Brandon Applegate's Blog

My article, “Can Horror End On A Hopeful Note,” is now live on Horror Oasis! Here’s an excerpt:

Horror does not have to be inherently nihilistic, although that worldview certainly has its place. I believe that some horror can hold up a mirror to us, show us our errors, our mistakes, our monsters—and also challenge us to be flexible about how we think about the world, and in doing so, find the light in the darkness.

– Brandon Applegate, Can Horror End On A Hopeful Note, HorrorOasis.com

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I’ve been editing my own short story collection and getting it ready for print for a little while now, and one of the best investments I have made has been the formatting software called Vellum. It makes formatting your book easier than it ought to be, but there are still some pro tips and tricks to help you get your book into shape.

Some notes: Vellum is Mac-only, so if you’re on a PC, you’re out of luck. Also, it’s a bit pricey. But man, does it ever make a pretty book.

Importing You...

The Deep, the latest entry in Ghost Orchid Press‘s Hundred Word Horror series, will launch on July 28, 2021, including my story “Siren In The Shower Drain.” Ebook pre-orders are live now. The author list is incredible, and I’m so excited to be a part of it! Check out the list of participating authors below:

Abi Marie PalmerAdrian DavidAlex ShenstoneAlexis DuBonAlice Mae JamesonAnastasia GarciaAndrew McDonaldApril YatesAshley HawkBelicia RheaBlaise LangloisBlen MesfinBrandon Applegate (of ...

No, really. I’m asking the question. Think about it. Can horror have a happy ending, or even just a hopeful one? The obvious answer seems to be “no,” right?

One of the things I love about the genre is its flexibility. There are so damned many subgenres of horror that if I tried to list them all, this article would be much too long, and there are plenty of stories that straddle all of those subgenres, blending and smudging to make an immense palette.

But, for endings there seems to be ...

If the haunted house genre was a goldmine, it would be abandoned by all but the most stubborn prospectors. The walls would be smooth. Pickaxes would litter the ground, abandoned where they fell when the writer moved on to pick at the walls of some other, less trodden sub-genre.

Before you scream “Attack this man for besmirching my favorite thing!”, please keep in mind that I love a good haunted house. It’s my horror home, the trope that got me started. There are still numerous practition...

I am proud to announce that my microfiction story, “Siren In The Shower Drain” will appear in Hundred-Word Horror: The Deep, an anthology by Ghost Orchid Press. The date of release is yet to be determined, but I will update you here when there’s more to tell.

Sign up for my mailing list and get three free stories sent to your inbox. (Also, I won’t email you unless I release something new, I promise.)

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My friend Thomas and I are in a very similar boat when it comes to horror movies. Both of us love them, but we’ve both lived most of our lives having nobody to watch them with. So, we’ve avoided them alot out of deference to the other person, and we’re terribly behind. There’s a lot we haven’t seen.

Since COVID hit, there have been a number of advances in technology that have allowed us to more easily watch movies together online (I live in Texas and Thomas is in Wisconsin). So we’ve deci...

In an effort to watch more horror movies, a friend and I have made a (too long) list and will be watching one movie from the list each week. Then I’ll review it. Enjoy.

Also, SPOILERS AHEAD. Non-spoiler review: it’s good. You should watch it. If you haven’t yet, go do that now, then we’ll talk turkey.

A long time ago, when I was quite wee, I stole a book from the library. It was John Beloff’s “The Relentless Question: Reflections On The Paranormal.” Definitely a departure from my usual...

Merek stood at the line between sunlight and shadow. Behind him was his home, the ancient stone longhouse, occupied by his forefathers for centuries. Before him stood the writhing wall of black trees that took his son.

He dreamed about it. Every night since his son, Rowan, was taken from him, Merek found himself on the great wooden porch of the longhouse, the sun just peering over the horizon, nursing a cup of hot broth and watching Rowan play in the yard between the house and the trees. ...

Clay inhaled the smoke, and when he breathed it out, he imagined himself a dragon. He opened his mouth wide, bared his teeth, prematurely yellow at only nineteen from the tobacco, and let the cloud roll out of his throat and gather around his face, stinging his eyes. He let a deep playful growl roll up out of his larynx to chase the smoke.

“Oh, Smaug the Mighty,” said a deep voice with a heavy Texas accent behind him, “Not gold alone brought us hither. I’d take a smoke, if you’ve got one to s...