By W.F. Harvey
The idea that we live in the golden age of horror, a notion once perfunctorily questioned by pop culture critics, is now generally accepted as fact. Maybe the discussion lives on for those of us who care enough about the issue to discuss it – an admittedly narrow segment of nerds like me, who, to the dismay of every adult chaperone, dressed up as Ted Bundy for Halloween in the seventh grade – but the “debate” itself was never as interesting as why it was debated in the first place. Have people just become better at telling stories? Do we develop a higher tolerance for the macabre? Or is there simply more to be afraid of?
Probably it’s a little bit of everything. I don’t think the world is any wickeder now than it was centuries ago. In antiquity, rape and enslavement were just the cost of doing business. In the late 1800s, H.H. Holmes built a literal murder castle, complete with custom crematoriums to dispose of his victims. And, if the rumo