THE LAST TURN
The Dream Eater
On the set of a scrappy indie sci-fi series, a young production assistant finally lands the chance to be part of something meaningful—far from the clutches of the Hollywood machine. The creator at the helm is a visionary rebel, celebrated for giving outsiders a voice and reclaiming storytelling from corporate control. But as the lights flicker and shadows lengthen behind the scenes, it becomes clear that something far more sinister lurks beneath the surface. Behind the Lens is a chilling tale of ambition, power, and the hidden price of chasing a dream.
Witchboard (2025) Review: Dream Logic, Gore, and Occult Vibes Power This Wickedly Fun Remake
If you’re going to remake a cult classic, you better bring something fresh to the table—or in this case, to the kitchen. Director Chuck Russell (A Nightmare on Elm Street 3, The Blob) does exactly that with Witchboard (2025), a bloody, bold reimagining that swaps suburban séance for a New Orleans restaurant startup gone terrifyingly wrong.
REVISITING THE CRYPT OF MUPPET HORROR
Revisiting the crypt of muppet horror: a world where horror meets Henson’s Muppets. In a dark corner of reality that is familiar, yet eerily different, prepare for terror, laughter, and an existential crisis as your favorite felt friends star in their creepiest and most iconic roles yet.
SENSELESS BY RONALD MALFI: BOOK REVIEW
Senseless is a Los Angeles centered, thriller filled with vampires, a human fly, a monkey, doctors, detectives and Hollywood predators. When the mutilated body of a young woman is discovered in the desert on the outskirts of Los Angeles, Detective Bill Renney, assigned to the case can’t deny the similarities between this murder and one that occurred a year prior. As Renney struggles to find suspects, clues and a grip on reality he must overcome ghosts pursuing him from all directions.
Is it a serial killer? A copycat killer? And how do a human fly, a vampire, an author on the run from her past, a narcissistic Hollywood producer and his drug addict son and a Hollywood shrink fit into the puzzle? They will all converge on Renney to make Senseless an unforgettable rubiks cube of horror you won’t be able to put down.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: THE CRYSTALLINE VOW
They say when you’re dying, your life flashes before your eyes. But mine won’t stop replaying just one night—one scream, one blade, one name I still whisper in dreams. I broke a vow I never made, and they killed him for it. Now the crystal is humming again, and I don’t think I have much time left. So if you’re reading this, listen closely—because once I tell you, it won’t just be my secret anymore.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: THE GATEKEEPERS
There’s something lurking in the code, in the algorithms that’s preying on us—If you’ve seen this post, it might already be too late.
The door was open. It wasn’t supposed to be. It gaped like an invitation no one wanted, humming with silence. I stepped inside Justine’s apartment, whispering their name. No response. Just the kind of stillness that feels loaded. And then I saw the blood.
It was smeared along the edge of their keyboard—a perfect, curling half-print of a fingertip. Beneath it was a tiny message written in red Sharpie on the back of a Post-it note:
"Rule 0 is real."
That was the last thing they ever wrote.
THE DAMAGE OF GATEKEEPING IN HORROR
I have been having a blast on the NoSleep Subreddit, sharing horror stories and interacting with horror fans in fun, immersive ways. As a professor of Transmedia storytelling at RIT, community building and engaging is so important to me. Having been the Creative Director at DeviantArt and having overseen the development of many communities through curation and moderation, I was so excited to have the opportunity to play on Reddit with the Nerd Horror concept.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: POLLY MILLER ROAD
If you grew up in upstate New York, you’ve probably heard some version of the Polly Miller story. Witch. Murdered lover. Cursed swamp. The older kids always dared each other to go out there, to Polly Miller Road, after dark. I used to think it was all bullshit. Just local legend. But in the summer of 1999, I found out it wasn’t. Polly’s real—and she’s been waiting.
All we wanted was to run—me and Jess, two girls who’d gotten too deep in Carter’s bullshit. Swayed by the money, the free drugs, and that so-called safe compound tucked deep off Vickerman Hill. We had it made, but the cost was our souls, and that was too steep for me.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: JACK’S TONIC
WARNING: Never drink a 150-Year-old Snake Oil Tonic—My Aunt did, and now she’s not human anymore
They told me the old milk house hadn’t been opened since 1947. My great-grandfather, Jack “The Milk Man,” died there—collapsed by the churn with his boots on. The room had stayed sealed ever since, the cold stone cellar beneath it undisturbed.
Until now.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: SEE EMILY PLAY
This is a warning. If you hear kids calling outside your window after 2AM—don’t go. Don’t answer. And whatever you do, don’t say your name.
There’s something wrong with my street, and it starts after midnight. You’ll hear laughter—children playing. Sometimes tag, sometimes jump rope, sometimes just… calling.
But we all know better. You don’t open the window. You don’t peek through the blinds. You never go outside.
I told Emily this, but she didn’t believe me. She thought it was just some dumb story I made up to scare her.
She doesn’t think that anymore.
Because she’s gone.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: YOU GET WHAT YOU PAY FOR
Raymond Kessler’s father was, quite literally, a trust fund. Groomed into a vapid vessel devoid of empathy, Raymond pissed away his inheritance on the finest drugs, the loudest cars, and the trendiest clothes. He replenished his fortune by gutting pensions through the family business and selling conspiracy supplements to men who hated their wives. He believed aliens were real, we live in a simulation, and women were mostly decorative buckets for his sperm.
So when a shadow dealer in Morocco offered him a strange object—carved from jet-black meteorite, with spindled horns and a vaguely feminine shape—he wired $4.5 million instantly.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: THE CROOKED ONE
(HE WHO HAUNTS THE TOWPATH - as told in German Flatts, New York – circa late 1850s)
In the late 1850s, the towpath connecting Ilion and Mohawk, New York, was a vital link along the Erie Canal, bustling with activity. Running parallel to the Mohawk River, it was not only a hub of commerce but also a place of whispered legends among the locals.
One such tale was that of The Crooked One.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: THE DIRT WITCH
My best friend stole a cursed crystal. Now she’s gone, and someone—or something else has her face.
We were just two art students crafting costumes for Comic Con—until my best friend stole a strange red crystal to cosplay the Dirt Witch, a local legend known for vengeance and blood. Now she’s missing… and something wearing her face won’t stop staring at me.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: THE JESTER
My family is dead and everyone thinks I killed them—but it was the Jester, I swear.
I didn’t hurt anyone. He did. He tricked me. It was all just a joke. A bad joke.
I’m getting out tomorrow. Ten years in juvie. They say I’ve made “progress.” That I’ve “accepted responsibility.”
But they’re wrong. I didn’t kill my family. I was the victim. Preyed upon by that toy—that evil thing.
The Jester.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: ELON PRIME
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: THE FEAST
I should have known something was off the moment I downloaded an app specializing in underground food pop-ups. It was just another weak attempt by me to fit in with the young millennials at work. But this was the perfect chance to get Vanessa to go on a date with me.
“Sublime Bites” had no address, no reviews—just an invitation-only system and the promise of a "once-in-a-lifetime underground dining experience." As a programmer whose whole world is based on logic, I should’ve been skeptical. But as a single, socially awkward man trying to impress his way-out-of-his-league date, I was admittedly desperate.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: THE HOLE
I still dream about the fire. The way the flames clawed at the old barn, the smell of burning wood and something worse. The way my little brother screamed for me to save him.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: ROOTS
My uncle Jonas was a recluse. I thought he was interesting, but nobody else in my family could stand him—especially my mom, his baby sister. She blamed Vietnam. It wrecked him, stole the big goofy brother she once loved, and replaced him with an imposter dredged from the putrid mud of a battlefield. When the war ended, Uncle Jonas moved in with my grandma and never left. After she died in the late ’90s, when I was just a kid, he and my mom fought bitterly. She wanted to sell the house, but he refused. Being the oldest, he had just as much claim to it as she did, and he dug his heels in.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: HARVEST OF ASH
Jaycen’s parents always told him that progress came at a cost. He just never thought the cost would be their lives.
The fire in the main house cast long, twisting shadows across the greenhouse as the masked men dragged him forward. The air reeked of burning plastic, blood, and gasoline. His mother’s screams had stopped. His father’s body lay somewhere in the inferno, their life's work crumbling with them.