The Short Horror Magic of Happenstance Horror Fest

SATURDAY MORNING CARTOONS (24:45)

The shortest block in the lineup turned out to be one of the most memorable—and a perfect reminder that animation remains one of the most creative, emotionally resonant, and deliciously deranged corners of the horror world.

If I can offer one piece of advice to anyone attending a horror fest: never skip the animation block. It’s where you’ll find some of the most daring, weird, and inspired voices in the genre. These are artists who can bend the rules of reality and deliver surreal nightmares or heartfelt oddities in just a few minutes. I only wish this block had been longer, because what we got was wonderful.

Festival Favorites

The Carvening (Dir. Matt Incontri, 3 min)

I absolutely adored this charming love letter to horror—how it shapes lifelong fans from a young age, and the parents who nurture that fascination instead of shaming it. The film opens on two brothers in a bedroom lined with posters and VHS tapes, the elder coaxing the younger to watch a forbidden slasher called The Carvening. But this isn’t your typical “kids watch cursed movie” story; it’s something far cleverer, funnier, and more heartfelt.

To spoil the twist would rob you of the delight, but suffice it to say this is a slasher send-up with a soul. It’s creative, witty, and surprisingly sweet. The dedication at the end (“For my mom, who showed me Evil Dead and taught me to see the humor in horror”) is the perfect grace note.

The Naughty List (Dirs. Anna & Al Liakos, 3.5 min)

A Florida-set Christmas Eve tale about a struggling single mom and her daughter, The Naughty List takes every ounce of holiday cheer and drenches it in blood and neon light. When the mom is robbed while walking home, she’s saved by an unlikely hero: Santa Claus—if Santa were a tracksuit-wearing vigilante with a knack for brutal justice.

What makes this short sing (or scream) is its tonal balance. It’s funny, gory, and full of inventive kills. But beneath the chaos lies a genuine sweetness about protection, hope, and the light that shines in the darkest hours. It’s the perfect bridge between Halloween and Christmas… a reminder that the season of horror never really ends.

Further Frights

Cold Terror (Dir. Ozkan Yasun, 3 min)

This twisted little nightmare begins innocently enough: a man watching a horror movie on a stormy night. But when he heads to the fridge for a beer, he discovers something even more horrifying than what’s on screen. Without giving too much away, let’s just say it involves killer cold ones and a gleefully absurd payoff.

It’s wickedly funny, perfectly timed, and proof that good horror comedy doesn’t need more than a couple of minutes to land the punchline.

The Outsider (Dir. A. Burnett, 3 min)

Burnett’s haunting animated adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s short story The Outsider is beautiful, eerie, and unexpectedly tender. With lush illustrations and shadowy hues, it captures loneliness, despair, and self-discovery in the most chilling way.

What makes this version special is how it translates Lovecraft’s text visually, using minimalism and mood to evoke existential terror rather than cheap scares. It’s horror that’s as heartbreaking as it is horrifying. The ending is a triumph.

Trial of the Concubine (Dir. Simon Young, 1 min)

A warlock risks damnation to become the concubine of a demon who lives in the eye of a hurricane. The short opens with a voice so commanding it feels like a spell being cast: “I come to you, foul goddess in the storm…” From there, the brief burst of imagery that follows feels like a gothic poem rendered in motion.

Tomas Herudek’s score elevates this to a near-religious experience. It’s one minute of perfection that lingers like a curse.

Late Night TV (Dir. Aubrey Kinsel, 30 sec)

This blink-and-you-miss-it claymation short features a man literally melting into his television. It’s short, strange, and darkly funny. And that’s exactly what you’d hope to stumble upon during a midnight animation block.

Kinsel, a student at SIU Carbondale, already shows a strong grasp of tone and texture. The short feels like a fever dream in miniature.

Intermission (Dirs. Anna & Alex Liakos, 2 min)

A hellish remix of the classic drive-in snack-bar ads, Intermission plays like a demonic cousin of “Let’s All Go to the Lobby.” It’s catchy, nostalgic, and genuinely unnerving—a reminder that consumer culture can be just as sinister as any slasher.

Lone Buck Motel (Dir. Sarah Rae Franklin, 2 min)

A mysterious motel, an ominous invitation, and a story that refuses to go where you expect it to. Lone Buck Motel is surprising, whimsical, and sexy. The setup is thrilling, and the payoff is a joy. Franklin describes it as “a love letter to queer kink and hookup culture.” And that perspective makes it feel fresh and fearless. It’s about embracing your monstrosity, or at least as others perceive it, and being authentically free.

I Think I’m Afraid of Girls (Dir. Ben Lynch, 20 sec)

This microshort is over before you know it, but its humor and handmade charm stick with you. It feels like flipping through an old sketchbook that suddenly starts moving on its own.

VHX (Dirs. Alisa Stern & Scott Ampleford, 4 min)

Anthropomorphic VHS tapes full of memories, from school dances to family vacations, argue over which of them deserves to be played next. That is, until their owner starts taping over them with monster movies to tragic results. Equal parts funny, tragic, and nostalgic, VHX is a love letter to obsolete media and lost memories. It’s clever, full of personality, and a testament to what can be achieved with creativity and craft instead of budget.