Real horror is not something you can see or hear. It’s something you feel at the nape of your neck in the form of a cold shiver. It’s something you think you sight from the corner of your eyes but when you turn around, it isn’t there. Real horror is only felt. It’s the apotheosis of all negativity, all sadness and pain. Just like forgotten bones buried deep in the woods, horror makes home under the surface; from where it extends the reaches of its macabre talons towards your unsuspecting heart, and grasps it in an unforgiving clench, never to let go again.