Some of the best horror stems from mining the paranoia of real-life situations. Part of the power of a film like Eli Roth’s HOSTEL stems from the thought that somebody might actually be sick enough to put something like the Elite Hunting club together. The background of AFTERSHOCK—which stars Roth but is not directed by him—lies in truth, specifically the devastating 8.8 earthquake that struck Chile in 2008.

As found footage settles itself in as the new raison d’être of indie genre filmmakers, we start to see it mold and blend with time-honored tradition (the anthology, the ghost story, etc). In HOLLOW (available now on VOD from Tribeca Film), director Michael Axelgaard brings the aesthetic to the historic English countryside where it gains rich, somber atmosphere in the process.

CREEPY has been scaring kids since your daddy's day. While you were still a twinkle in his eye, he was staying up late at night, covered in a blanket, with a flashlight in one hand and a CREEPY in the other. With its twisted tales of morality, the iconic comic has been a staple of the horror genre for many a year, entertaining both children and adults for generations. Originally started in 1964, CREEPY has stood the test of time, and is now widely available through the fine folks at Dark Horse comics.

Dave Wong (Chase Williamson) meets reporter Arnie Blandstone (Paul Giamatti) late one night in an empty Chinese restaurant. Dave has a story to tell, about the intravenous ichor nicknamed “soy sauce,” and how this strange new drug can allow users to see through time and communicate with the dead.

The premiere of the much-anticipated anthology THE ABC’s OF DEATH was one of the final genre screenings at the Toronto International Film Festival, and was met with mixed responses. This ambitious project (coming to theaters early next year from Magnet Releasing) teams together 26 directors from around the world, spanning 15 countries; each was assigned to do a short film based on a letter of the alphabet (“A is for Apocalypse,” etc.) and given complete creative control.

The ultimate terror for any even half-decent parent is the unthinkable—yet perfectly plausible—concept of losing their child. That primal fear is even more profound in a mother, she who miraculously grew this tiny person inside her and whose connection to her charge is one of the most powerful bonds known.

Rarely do we chart true crime in the pages, virtual or otherwise, of FANGORIA, but in the case of Amy Berg’s new documentary (a world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival) on an ongoing, painful and often detailed subject, it makes perfect sense. 18 years ago, in West Memphis, Arkansas, three little boys were found submerged in a ravine, bound, dead, their genitals apparently skinned, their bodies cut, torn, broken. In the small Bible belt community, human agony at the unspeakable crime was matched only by murmers of Satanic worship spreading like wildfire.