Why Horror Movies and Shows Have a Special Place in My Heart

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 Welcome to My Nightmare Filed under: beginnings, popcorn, and the first shadow in the corner



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It All Started With a Feeling—And a Locked Door That Wasn’t Locked the Night Before

There’s something about a good scare that feels like coming home.

For as long as I can remember, horror has been my comfort genre—not because it made me feel safe, but because it made me feel seen. Heard. Alive. It wasn't just about monsters or final girls—it was about the people I watched them with, and the memories left behind after the credits rolled.


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The Nightly Storyteller’s First Memory

We didn’t call it that back then, of course.
But sometimes when I think back to those nights—dim TV glow on our faces, the sound of my brother nervously crunching popcorn, my uncle muttering “She’s gonna die” every five minutes—it feels like I wasn’t just watching horror… I was becoming part of it.

There was one night—I must’ve been ten—we watched Pet Sematary and the air felt too still. Too heavy. After the movie ended, we noticed the back door was open. Not wide. Just… cracked. And no one had touched it.

Join me again soon as the Shelf of Secrets grows, and the Nightly Storyteller dives deeper into horror’s forgotten corners. Drop a comment if you've ever seen something strange hidden in a film. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's… the next clue.

thenightlystoryteller.blogspot.com

Stay curious. Stay uneasy.
—The Nightly Storyteller

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