The Short Horror Magic of Happenstance Horror Fest
MICRODOSING & MUSIC VIDEOS (42 min)
This shorter block may be brief, but it’s also the most kinetic, kaleidoscopic, and just plain fun. The fusion of micro shorts and horror-themed music videos gives the lineup a buzzy, alive quality — like flipping through late-night cable in the best possible way. It’s bursting with rhythm, color, and gleeful weirdness.
If the animation block captured childlike imagination, this one channels pure chaotic energy. By the end, if you’re like me, you’ll even have added some new favorites to your streaming music queue and upped your Halloween playlist game for next year.
Festival Favorites
Little Deaths (Dir. Derek Bensonhaver, 6 min)
If there’s one film that completely embodies the chaotic spirit of this block, it’s Little Deaths — an experimental anthology of 15-second horror films that plays like a microdose of adrenaline straight to the heart. The concept is deceptively simple: a rapid-fire series of miniature nightmares, each lasting only moments but packing full-blown punchlines of horror and humor.
It’s a wickedly clever love letter to the genre and its obsession with creative death scenes. Think of it like a demented cross between The ABCs of Death and 1000 Ways to Die. The opening text gleefully introduces the experiment: “The following fifteen-second segments are representations of the unending possibilities of a hideous demise.” The closing line of narration, “Life sucks and then you die,” seals this delirious treat with a morbid grin.
Watch now: Inspired by Andrew J.D. Robinson and the 15 Second Horror Film Challenge, this short is a gateway drug to the weird world of micro-horror. Check out Robinson’s festival compilations and challenge entries on YouTube for even more bite-sized terror.
Borrowed Time (Dir. Collin Rousseau, 7 min)
A haunting, hypnotic music video for Dead Gods Are the New Gods, Borrowed Time feels less like a film and more like a summoning. It opens on a cult in the woods — all white robes and crimson accents — performing what appears to be a resurrection ritual. What follows is a swirl of stunning imagery and occult mysticism, anchored by the band’s post-punk, synth-heavy sound.
There’s something transcendental about the way Rousseau merges image and sound. The music evokes Bauhaus and Killing Joke; the visuals are pure fever dream. The refrain “We’re all on borrowed time” feels like both a warning and a mantra. This one left me spellbound.
Watch now: Borrowed Time is streaming on YouTube, but I recommend watching with headphones and the lights off. Let the sound wash over you and the visuals seep in; it’s like falling into a trance you don’t want to wake from.
Further Frights
Creep Dance (Dir. Christina Santa Cruz, 3 min)
The title alone tells you what to expect: something witchy, sensual, and just a little unhinged. Creep Dance is an atmospheric fever dream directed and performed by Christina Santa Cruz, set to the haunting track by the husband-and-wife duo Chestnut. The result is an intoxicating blend of horror and ritual.
You can’t stream the video yet, but the track itself is available, and it’s a perfect addition to any Halloween playlist. The haunting vocals and ambient textures crawl under your skin.
Listen now: Creep Dance by Chestnut is gorgeous, haunting, and dripping with gothic allure. Add it to your late-night rotation and let it cast its slow, intoxicating spell.
Omar, Pray for the Prophet (Dir. Bader al-Hakami, 3.5 min)
A rap song becomes a descent into hell in Omar, Pray for the Prophet, a stylish, nerve-shredding debut from Saudi director Bader al-Hakami. The video follows artist Omar Hosni as both performer and predator. His verses unfold in a red-drenched nightmare that sometimes feels like Hardcore Henry with its unnerving and frenetic first-person perspective.
The POV camera work adds intensity, pulling you into a grim, claustrophobic spiral. Thematically, it’s about guilt, faith, and damnation… but stylistically, it’s pure panic. Al-Hakami is one to watch; this short is a bold first statement.
Watch now: Teaser trailer. This debut from Bader al-Hakami proves that horror and music can be seamless when treated as emotional experiences rather than separate media.
Spooky Shit (Dir. J. Budro Partida, 4.5 min)
An instant festival favorite, Spooky Shit is pure campy bliss. It’s a punk rock ode to everything weird, wild, and wonderful about horror. Performed by Austin-based band The Immortalz, it’s a blood-splattered love letter to the genre, shot through with B-movie charm and fronted by an Elvira-esque lead singer who commands every frame.
It’s high-energy, low-budget, and absolutely infectious. This belongs on every Halloween playlist, and it’s destined to become a cult favorite.
Watch now: Spooky Shit is streaming on YouTube. Play it loud, and thank me later when you’re humming it for days.
Hatman (Dir. Andrew “Ducky” Dutkiewicz, 4 min)
From the Austin alt-rock band Capital Vice comes Hatman, a playful, creepy, and irresistibly catchy ode to urban legend. It’s part Weezer, part Scooby-Doo chase scene, and all heart. The music video captures a manic, surreal vibe while hinting at something darker lurking just offscreen.
It’s silly, stylish, and full of personality. And the potent end delivers a great payoff.
Watch now: Hatman on YouTube.
Bleeding Garden – Mama Doom (Dirs. Anne Hickey & David Mayer, 4 min)
A giallo-inspired, doom-metal fever dream that looks like it was filmed through a haze of incense and blood. Bleeding Garden is heavy, sexy, and surreal about a garden that feeds on human flesh. It’s full of stop-motion flourishes, twitchy skeletons, and killer attitude.
The song itself slaps, but it’s the video that steals the show. It’s full of lovingly crafted DIY touches, clever editing, and eerie visuals that channel everything from Suspiria to Hausu. If doom metal and horror cinema had a baby, it would look like this.
Watch now: Bleeding Garden – Mama Doom.
Van Goat’s Time of Year (Dirs. Alexander Covert Mallonee & Gavin Velasquez Murray, 5 min)
A holiday horror ballad that’s equal parts sweet and sad, Time of Year turns holiday cheer into something beautifully bittersweet. The swing-punk band Van Goat takes a playful jab at the contradictions of the season: the way joy and melancholy always seem to intertwine.
The miniature set design is gorgeous, zooming into a tiny snow-covered town that hides big emotions inside. “It’s just that time of year when I disappear,” the song laments. It’s a line that hits hard and lingers. This one stuck with me.
Watch now: Time of Year by Van Goat. It’s the rare horror-adjacent holiday track that makes you want to dance and cry at the same time. Add it to your December playlist — right between Krampus and heartbreak.
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