Nonfiction
Media & Book Review: December 2025
We’re not too cool to admit we love Stephen King. Adam-Troy Castro checks out a new King film adaptation and an anthology inspired by The Stand. Find out why he’s recommending them both!
We’re not too cool to admit we love Stephen King. Adam-Troy Castro checks out a new King film adaptation and an anthology inspired by The Stand. Find out why he’s recommending them both!
I kept a few elements from the myth of the Shahmeran. It’s a mythical creature that is half-woman, half-snake, and whose blood has healing properties. But while the original story is a tale of hope and trust and forgoing sacrifice, this story is about multiple acts of selfish desire.
An important feature of childlore is that kids spread it to other kids, independent of adult instruction. Because as soon as parents got involved (or teachers, or adult authors of books marketed for children), that wasn’t really ours anymore, was it? That was somebody else’s lesson, written for us.
Maybe it’s the long dark nights stirring up the imagination, or maybe it’s the strange light you get when sunshine glints off the snow: We might be out of spooky season, but December is the time when our thoughts are often in communication with legends and lore.
My main inspiration for this story, however, was the Final Destination franchise, and my own endless fascination with lost films and telenovelas, the latter a media I’m very much in love with. Brazil is a juggernaut in the telenovela industry, and we have an extremely rich history.
Lisa Morton literally wrote the book on seances and spiritualism (you should all check out her delightful book Calling the Spirits). Here’s a short reading guide from her compiling great fiction about ghost hunters.
I have a habit of writing stories inspired by trips that I’ve enjoyed. This one, I started writing after the first time I attended CLAW, a BDSM and kink convention in Cleveland. I distinctly remember thinking—on the way back—that some of the activities I got up to would be considered “niche” or “extreme” by a large percentage of the population. I wanted to speak to that through speculative fiction.
It is something that is just accepted: forests are places where things become lost. There is a dark, entangled history that grows in the shadows of the woods, weaving through myth and legend—through stories we have told and warnings we have whispered into the night. The forest is the void of the unknown, a ravenous mouth that picks clean the bones of trespassers because the forest has a stomach, and that stomach has never been full.
I have lost count of the number of discussions I’ve had about what the difference between horror and dark fantasy might be. Plenty of people have very crisp definitions and think applying them helps them better understand dark fiction. Me? I have a tougher time every year. I’m inclined to say that dark fantasy is the stuff that when you finish, you care more about what couldn’t be explained than the parts that were trying to make you feel scared.
Believe it or not, it all started as a pun. I read a description somewhere of a bird species being “cavity nesters,” and my brain immediately went “you mean like thoracic cavity?” That then gave rise to the line “they nest in hollows—do you feel hollow?” and the double meaning felt interesting enough that I wrote it down. But then it sat there. For years. Because I didn’t have a story—I had a bit of wordplay.