Tenebrous Press returns with its next highly anticipated Horror anthology, IN SOMNIO: A Collection of Modern Gothic Horror! 

Nineteen fearless authors—and some of today’s finest illustrators—cut to the heart of classic Gothic Horror and drag it into modern times, sculpting it into an altogether sleeker beast.

In the hands of Mary Shelley, Daphne Du Maurier, and Shirley Jackson, Gothic Horror often explored the bleak shadows of our very homes and the darkest corners of the human mind. It focused on themes of madness, personal transformation, phantoms, and the occult. 

Drawing inspiration from these original Gothmothers, IN SOMNIO takes those familiar themes and recasts them in a modern light!

​Within the walls of an arcane modern art gallery; upon the shores of a hostile but compelling sea; into the blackest burrows of the animal kingdom; tableside at the world’s last restaurant on the eve of the apocalypse; from the deep deep South to a Lovecraftian Steampunk theatre, a cornucopia of disturbing vignettes await you.

Cartoonist and writer Sloane Leong and writer Cassie Hart have partnered to launch a Kickstarter campaign for DEATH IN THE MOUTH, a horror anthology showcasing BIPOC and other ethnically marginalized writers and artists from around the world. It will feature twenty prose stories spanning the distant past to the far future, real and fictive worlds, all while exploring new and unique manifestations of horror. Each story will also be accompanied by an original black and white illustration by a unique artist. We've invited authors like C Pam Zhang (How Much of These Hills Is Gold), Darcie Little Badger (Elatsoe), Jewelle Gomez  (The Gilda Stories), An  Owomoyela  (Abandonware), Karin  Lowachee  (Warchild), Jahra Wasasala (MOTHER/JAW), K- Ming Chang (Bestiary), Rachel & Sean Qitsualik- Tinsley (The Raven and the Loon), and more to contribute stories.

Artists you can look forward to seeing illustrate these tales include
Michael Deforge, Joy San, Jabari Weathers, Makoto Chi, Allissa Chan, Pinchas Segal,  Alicia Feng,  and Natalie Hall. 

Nyx Horror Collective is a community of diverse women creators who develop, celebrate, and elevate original, women-led horror content for film, TV, and new media.

What began as a simple 60-second film challenge in January 2021 blossomed quickly into the little festival that could. Garnering top notch judges from the horror genre and securing Shudder as its official streaming platform, Nyx Horror is proving itself to be a creative force of nature.

One of the missions at Nyx Horror and with 13 Minutes is to give women horror filmmakers of all identities and backgrounds greater exposure and more opportunities through strategic partnerships with established industry professionals. With that in mind, the Festival has garnered support from production companies and film incubators that include Blood Oath (Starry Eyes, Satanic Panic) and Squid Farm Productions (Shudder Original Shook), as well as from development executives at Blumhouse [Get Out, The Invisible Man (2020)].

“I cannot wait for audiences to see the creativity and talent. These filmmakers packed so much story and scares into one minute,” said Lisa Kröger, Festival Co-Producer.

“Our drive to keep generating incredible opportunities for this festival really speaks to our tenacity and passion, as individuals and as a team, to dispel the myth of ‘no women, LGBTQIA+ or people of color working in the genre.’ We’re right here; you can’t say you don’t know any. Not anymore.” – Mo Moshaty, Festival Co-Producer
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“The messages that Nyx has received from women and non-binary filmmakers since launching 13 Minutes have been overwhelming in the most amazing way. This is why we do what we do—to share in the joy of so many talented creators is beyond rewarding.” – Kelly Krause, Festival Co-Producer

“We wanted to give these wonderful up-and-coming writers and directors the opportunity to have their work seen. The fact that Shudder is hosting us on their platform is a testament to their growing support of BIPOC and women-driven work and we’re eager for the world to see more of this kind of content.” - Melody Cooper, Festival Co-Producer


Nyx Horror Collective’s 13 Minutes of Horror Film Festival will air for 32 days on Shudder from August 13 – September 13, 2021.                                         ​

By 2007, when ‘The Washingtonians’ aired, I was already a massive Bentley Little fan. I was reading any novels of his I could get my hands on after picking up my first one not too long before (I believe it was ‘The Association, for anyone who’s curious, and it’s still one of my favourites of his). His novels were always dark and bizarre, weird and shocking, with a social commentary underlying them, and I couldn’t get enough. That fact alone made this episode (based on one of his short stories of the same name) one of my most anticipated. I do, however, believe this was the first thing I had watched that was directed by Peter Medak. Fast forward to today, and I think ‘The Changeling’ is an underrated genre classic, but in 2007, I hadn’t even watched ‘Species II’ yet. Shame on me, right?

We meet the Franks family at the beginning of the episode as they are travelling to the father, Mike’s (Johnathon Schaech) late grandmother’s house in order to attend her funeral and begin the process of packing up her belongings. When they arrive, they are met by Samuel (Myron Natwick) who is there to let them into the house. He seems genial and friendly enough, at first, A little eccentric maybe, but we won’t hold that against him. Still, something about him seems a little… off. He seems to spend an awful lot of time talking to Mike’s young daughter Amy (Julia Tortolano) and when, after Samuel has left, Mike assures her that “Not everyone’s gonna reach out and bite ya”, you do wonder whether Samuel may be the exception that proves the rule.

The Franks have an incredible work ethic because no sooner are they in the house but they get straight to clearing it out. Amy is startled by a huge portrait painting of George Washington down in the basement, knocking it over in her panic. Mike doesn’t seem too fazed. He confesses that he too found the painting a little creepy when he used to visit his grandmother as a kid. Turns out he had very good reason to as when he notices a rip in the corner of the painting, he spots something hidden behind it. A letter.

Most viewers will know at this point whether they are going to enjoy this episode or not. The big reveal is that the letter was seemingly written by George Washington himself (he was born in the town the Franks grew up in). The letter begins by stating “I will skin your children and eat them” before proclaiming that he will “fashion utensils out of their bones”. A somewhat surprising turn of events for the United States first president, and the founding father of America. If you think this is a silly development, then you ain’t seen nothing yet. If (like me) you found the concept hilarious, then you are in for a real treat.

I’m going to address the elephant in the room. Mysterious messages left by long-dead presidents, secret societies, clues left behind to find in present-day… It sounds an awful lot like a mix between ‘The Da Vinci Code’ and ‘National Treasure’. If you thought either of those films could have been improved with graphic cannibalism (I’m not sure I could handle seeing Tom Hanks messily chowing down on somebody’s spleen, but Nicholas Cage? Wouldn’t even crack his top ten weird movie moments) then ‘The Washingtonians’ is right up your alley.

Those strange vibes we got from Samuel? Turns out he is a Washingtonian.  A member of an elite society who is not only aware of George Washington’s child eating proclivities but also keep the tradition alive in the modern-day. The Franks even get a late-night visit from a couple of them, dressed in powdered wigs and sporting some awful wooden false teeth. They bang on the door and demand the letter, to which Mike responds (rather reasonably for a horror movie) by calling the police.

We get a lot of exposition on the Washingtonians from a local Professor (Saul Rubinek, who totally steals the show), who urges Mike to leave before the Washingtonians take the letter from him by force. It proves to be too little too late however as the Washingtonians return later than night in force, breaking into the house and kidnapping the Franks.

While the Bentley Little short is darkly humorous, the script for this episode (penned by another immensely talented horror author, Richard Chizmar) dials up the humour and embraces the ridiculousness inherent in the concept. I personally think it was a wise choice because, while the more serious tone totally works on the page in the Little original, I’m not convinced it would have translated to the screen quite so well if there weren’t a more overt nod to the outlandish nature of it all. Fun fact; Richard Chizmar also penned an unproduced screenplay for Stephen Kings ‘From a Buick 8 (one of my favourites). Based on this episode, it is a shame it never made it to screen, because I think he would be a great fit.

So far, the episode has been mostly build-up and very little action. It’s been a lot of fun, but I’m about ready to see what the deal is with these Washingtonians. I certainly get my answer, and it's crazier than I ever dreamt it could be. The Franks are brought into a lavish dining room by Samuel, where dozens of locals are dressed up in 17th-century get-up, getting ready to have their evening meal (someone who tells the Franks that they are “thrilled to have them for dinner” gets a rousing cheer from the room). A veritable feast is brought out for them, consisting of a large platter of people parts. It is not the best episode to be watching when you are eating a meal of your own. The Washingtonians are pretty messy eaters. Ambitious too, when somebody with a plate full of intestines declares that they’ll be eating Mike and his wife next, and saving Amy for dessert, I can’t help but wonder if they have eyes bigger than their bellies.

Overall, this is a pretty faithful adaptation of the Bentley Little short, but there is one change that was made that I wish hadn’t come to pass. In the filmed version, the Washingtonians are taken down by the police, but in the Little story, it was the redcoats. Maybe the budget didn’t quite stretch to the uniforms, or maybe it was just a little too out there, but I do think that would have been a pretty great ending.

I have gravitated towards the lighter, more fun episodes of Masters of Horror throughout this series, and ‘The Washingtonians’ strikes a really fine balance between the comedy and the horror. The Washingtonians spend much of the episode being a whispered rumour, and they don’t disappoint when they finally appear on screen. The ending more than makes up for a slow build-up with a lavish and grand scale set-piece that is certainly not for the squeamish. It’s a great finale to a very enjoyable episode.
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Speaking of finales…
Join me next time as I’ll be wrapping up this series with a look back at the final episode of the second season, Norio Tsurta’s ‘Dream Cruise’. See you then!

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Fair enough; you might say that I'm stretching the bounds of what constitutes horror with this one, but, in my defence, the new Kevin Smith-authored Netflix release of Masters of the Universe: Revelation does include an entire sequence involving – the wonderfully hokey-named- Scareglow, a character played by none other than the Candyman himself, horror-legend Tony Todd. Besides which, this present-day resurrection of the classic 1980s toy and cartoon franchise represents a “growing up” thereof in almost every respect, not least of which in terms of what it is prepared or able to portray: 


As well as introducing genuine stakes, psychological depth and character complexity, the show includes multiple scenes of sincere horror. Forced to delve into the Hellish depths of “Subternia,” a realm of the dead not unlike the Greek Hades or even the Christian Hell, our heroes are encountered by Scareglow, a character that boasted a toy in the original franchise but barely featured in any original media at all (certainly not the iconic Filmation cartoon). Despite this, he has long-exercised a certain fascination with fans, owing to one -likely poorly-worded- entry in a single comic book from the late 1980s, in which he as described as “. . .the evil ghost of Skeletor.” This, along with his obvious resemblance to old bone-bonce, has led fans to speculate that he may in fact be a future, undead incarnation of Skeletor pulled back through time by arcane chicanery. This factor has been incorporated into various different lores and timelines that have come after, with some establishing that this is indeed the case whereas others have expanded into other arenas (in the Masters of the Universe: Classics mythology, Scareglow is actually the son of Skeletor and right-hand Evil Lyn, who, following in his Father's foortsteps, finds himself cursed by the power of Castle Grayskull, bound to it as a sort of spectral guardian forevermore). 


Quite what side Kevin Smith's work comes down on is open for debate, as the character makes reference to these potential origins without coming down on any one side. If anything, what Smith has done is taken this oft-neglected but much-beloved character and re-imagined it for the present day:


Far from being merely just another villain for the heroes to defeat, Scareglow is more of a force of nature; the presiding lord of Subternia, and therefore a kind of Hades or Plutonian figure: He rules over the dead of Eternia that, for whatever reason, failed to make to the celestial realm of Preternia, feasting on their fears, dreads and neuroses (he describes himself at one point as a “. . .collector of curios”). In this manner, not only does he provide an excellent basis for some superb horror set-pieces, but also allows the characters to directly confront the dreads and neuroses that plague them. 


Take, for example, protagonist Teela, who has been in a state of anger and denial since the series' opening (which sees not only her best friend destroyed but her life come crumbling down around her as secrets are revealed that turn her assumptions upside down and inside out). Scareglow hurls her headlong into those fears, manifesting them around her and forcing her to confront them directly. In this, he is not trying to aid her, rather wishes to parasitically feast on her doubt and dread. She is confronted not only with the avatar of her dead friend and ally, He-Man, but also with a shade of herself; the naïve but steadfast woman she once was. This allows her to see who and what she has become, but also who and what she needs to be in order to do what she came to do, providing the means for her to confront and conquer what has plagued her since Prince Adam's untimely demise. 


Likewise, comic-relief character Orko is presented with a vision of his home-dimension Trolla, in which he was regarded as little more than a joke: born to a species that is naturally magical, Orko became a disgrace to his parents and family name when he couldn't even master basic conjurations without them going -often spectacularly- awry. This is the fundamental fear that Scareglow confronts him with: his own lack of self-worth, his embarassment at being one of the few Trollans that can't master magic and be as his parents demanded (as Evil Lyn puts it in one of her more heartfelt moments: “...that sounds like your parents talking.”). ​

Of course, this being a new adaptation of a much-beloved 1980s kid's toy franchise and cartoon, none of the imagery presented is overtly horrific, though the trek through Subternia and the various nightmare-scapes Scareglow conjures are framed in such a manner that they are meant to elicit dread and fear. 


Rather, they stand as an example of how the tropes, themes and subjects classically redolent of horror can be found anywhere and in almost any medium. Masters of the Universe: Revelations is in no way unique in this regard; any number of children's cartoons and toy franchises -both classic and recent- boast similar qualities. Take, for example, the 1990s show Mighty Max, a cartoon based on the toy line of the same name, whose episodes generally drew inspiration from numerous horror, mythological and science fiction archetypes, from vampire stories -notably gruesome, for its era- to brain-eating aliens from outer-space B-movie fodder. Or, in more recent examples, the various Nickleodeon adaptations of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise, which boast various homages to horror, ranging from Cronenberg's The Fly to Carpenter's Big Trouble in Little China. 


What makes the Scareglow sequences in Masters of the Universe: Revelations notable is not only their deftness and significance to the overarcing story, but the manner in which they encapsulate what horror manifests at its most ideal: 


Here, fear is used as a meditation upon itself: Scareglow might seek to induce dread and despair for their own sakes, but, for the characters and wider story, those confrontations are necessary for healing and transformation. Protagonist Teela cannot function or put down the baggage of her past without the experiences Scareglow provides; without facing her fears and acknowledging them for what they are, she is doomed to failure. Likewise Orko, a character who -up to this incarnation- has been nothing but comic relief: here, his cartoon-buffoonery is revealed as the source of his despair and lack of self-worth; his dread of ridicule what he ultimately has to assimilate and transcend so that he can fulfil his true potential. This leads to an almost zen-like condition in which he matches his -dubious- magic against that of Scareglow and ultimately wins out, even though it means his self-sacrifice. 


These sequences stand as microcosms of what horror can be and do when it is allowed to swell beyond the assumptions of genre and proscription: the experience of dread, fear, repulsion -as induced by art or fiction-, whilst visceral and worthwhile in that regard, also serves to place us in a condition whereby we are more pliable, open and exposed, able to confront and work through what most distresses us in ourselves and the wider world. Through those experiences, we are able to grow beyond assumed contexts, become broader and more comprehensive human beings. Those of us who make a habit of experiencing horror in that manner know this well; we often emerge from our consumptions of disturbing or distressing material shuddered, unsettled but also transformed. We actively seek it out; the fictional experiences that touch the raw nerves, the barely-healed wounds, that dare to violate us in the most intimate and traumatic fashions. Far beyond the assumptions of wider culture, this is not merely a prurient love of the deviant or a momentary thrill (though horror can readily incorporate that experience, too). Rather, it is deeper, more profound and traumatic: an experience that, at its most heady, resonates for days or even weeks after, working its slow metamorphoses in our minds and souls until we emerge newborn on the other side. 


Whilst the Scargeglow sequences of Masters of the Universe: Revelation are primary-coloured, cartoon-overt exaggerations of that phenomena, that they are examples at all is noteworthy; evidence of how the show attempts to take the hokey, “saturday morning cartoon” ethos of the original show and reimagine it for an audience that is now in their adulthoods and demands more complex, challenging fare. They serve as a synthesis of the principle that can be found throughout horror in various forms and sub-genres: that what we fear, what we dread, can also be a pathway to transformation, even a kind of redemption (as in Orko's case). 


Taken on a purely technical level, the sequences stand out as some of the most brilliantly written, framed and animated in the entire show, the sense of threat Scareglow and the environment of Subternia elicit pronounced and tangible, the character himself a strangely threatening Hades or Pluto-analogue who has a quality of near-omnipotence within his nightmare realm, but is revealed as being akin to a nightmare himself: something that has power over us only insofar as we allow it. 


That he is the trial that the protagonists must face before opening the way to Preternia (effectively a form of Paradise or Eden) echoes certain mythological templates and traditions in which it is often the case that heroes must pass through the annealing process of being broken down, brought to states of uktimate disgrace, before they can truly ascend to new heights. 


In that, Masters of The Universe: Revelation demonstrates how horrific tropes and subjects are part and parcel of such storytelling traditions; the most fundamental and ancient humanity is able to identify, and which recur throughout our works and media, no matter how far removed or complexified by time and shifting contexts from their original incarnations. 


There is a universality to much of the storytelling in the show; a post-modern reimagining of myths we are all familiar with (in this, it echoes the likes of the Marvel super hero films and comic books in general). Nowhere is this more true than in Scareglow, who is one of the principle threats and obstacles the protagonists face during a journey that is as much spiritual as actual. 


Beyond a superbly chilling performance by Tony Todd (more than redolent of his Candyman role), some superb design and animation, the reimagining of Scareglow as an avatar of fear itself, a demi-god of dread, is a superb one, and demonstrates how even material as -ostensibly- unlikely as 1980s toy and cartoon franchises can become the basis for deeper and more enduring discussion. 

You get inured, sometimes. The sheen goes out of the world. All you see is the grim and the gritty, the sour and the shitty. Times like that, you don't want something fancy laid out on the bar; you just want a hit of something raw to match the horror and hollow you out awhile. What you've got here is simple, hard-hitting, and straight down the line: Something is Killing the Children. You gonna just sit there and take it?

When the children of Archer's Peak begin to go missing, everything seems hopeless. Most children never return, but the ones that do have terrible stories of terrifying creatures that live in the shadows. Their only hope of finding and eliminating the threat is Erica Slaughter, a mysterious stranger who believes the children and claims to see what they can. She kills monsters. That's all she does. She bears the cost because it must be done.
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I took a bit of time away from the world of comics while I was setting up my editing business, so I had no idea what this little beauty was when it dropped through the door. It sat there for a couple of days before I cracked the cover. There was something unsettling about the scratchy white lettering, the...directness of the title, the shadowy menace of the cover. It held a promise (and a memory) of fear that I wasn't quite ready to face. Ridiculous I know, but true horror is a visceral experience; it bypasses rationality.

​This is emphatically not Jaws set in the deep dark woods, but James Tynion IV does tap some similar sensibilites: vulnerable people vanishing, periods of uneasy tension both built and shattered by a trail of bodies, an expert haunted by long experience (yet widely disbelieved), and a creature which remains invisible or only half-seen for much of the story. The focus shifts neatly between the panicking populace whose fear sparks our own, and the (ambiguously) heroic hunter we cling to for comfort. Erica Slaughter kicks all kinds of ass, but she's probably not the kind of person you want to hang out with. She's more Blade than Buffy, and I have a sneaky suspicion there's some kind of demonic pact going on with that weird-looking toy octopus she lugs around with her.

It's not enough to have a cool character, though; presentation is everything. Fortunately for us, Tynion is a *cracking story-teller with a deep understanding of the craft. Fuck, it's all right there from the start, at the heart of this book: monsters may be shaped by a skilled hand, but it takes an audience to bring the shadows to life - animated by our shared imagination. The first issue **alone is a densely-packed masterclass that gives us the themes, the world, tone, characters to root for, plot seeds for the future, and a monster that will mess up your pants.

Bringing this vision to life is the partnership of Werther Dell'Edera, an excellent illustrator, and Miquel Muerto, whose subtle colour-work adds essential depth and highlights to the world. The cool blues, greens and autumnal browns have a chilling effect, helping to evoke the atmosphere of quiet dread in town, raising goosebumps with every shadow and breeze in the woods. There is a starkness to the artwork - the  expressions on the characters' faces, the pacing of the ***panels, the long-shot perspectives of the town, dwarfing its sparse population - all of which suits perfectly the mood of Tynion's story.

​Dell'Edera uses delicate fine-liners which allow for sharper detail and greater nuance of expression: anger, fear, aggression, suspicion - scratched into the canvas with every twitch and wrinkle. These feel real to me. Human beings. Captured in moments of quiet vulnerability, emotional pain, and day to day life, rather than those familiar comic-book heroes who live in perpetual extremis. That said, the action - when it comes - is furious, painting devastation without excess. Both artists and writer understand that the result of an attack is far more impactful than the set-up (particularly when it comes to the monster), giving us the sense of terrifying speed and a helplessness to do anything about it. Quite the trick really, when you consider that all we ever see in comics are static images, perused at our own damned time. 

I was hooked by it. This book ticked every box for me in terms of emotional investment, gripping plot, a world to admire and explore, and a whole bunch of questions begging to be answered. If I have any criticisms at all, it's that it is occasionally hard to know whether the panels crawl across the double-page spread or should be worked down individually. I understand why it required so many panels and so many pictures for pacing and tone, but flow is an essential part of the comic-reading experience. Can I recommend it? Abso-damned-lutely. Will I be buying the next volume? Hell yeah! I don't know if this is a limited run or an ongoing series, but if the quality of story-telling remains this high, and the artwork this compelling, I'm in it for the long haul. Now...where’s volume 2?

Written by https://tinyonionstudios.com/
Illustrated by Werther Dell'Edera
Coloured by Miquel Muerto
Lettered by Andworld Design
Published by Boom! Studios

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Available now!
Reading experience: 4.5/5
Reviewer: Dion Winton-Polak

* In point of fact, he's just won the esteemed Eisner Award for Best Writer, 2021.
** And happily, we get 5 issues in this volume. Savour them!
*** Numerous, capturing small moments, giving us time to think and to empathise.