Growing up, the genre of horror was one that I firmly avoided. I was the kind of person who would search up the plot of the movie to know when the jump scares were coming. I would clasp onto my friend’s arm so hard that their blood circulation would cut off, hide under the covers (only peeking out to breathe), and pull my hair out at every character who decided to investigate a weird noise (which, of course, led to a series of jump scares, chases, and gore that would give me nightmares for weeks). It was safe to say that horror movies were not for me.Â
But somehow, something changed on the Friday night of October 9, 2026.
When I found myself stepping out of the Uber into the pyrotechnic explosions, flashy lights, and booming music that encompassed Universal Studios’ Halloween Horror Nights, I began questioning my sanity in deciding to accompany my friends, who were shaking with excitement.
Yet, somewhere between our first jump scare and the fifth time being chased by a scare actor, my whole perspective began to shift.
It wasn’t that I suddenly began loving horror. I still had no interest in spending my time watching eerie plots unfold or spending the inevitable next month imagining the shadows of my room morphing into gore-faced monsters leaping out to get me. I definitely wouldn’t be jumping at the opportunity to watch a horror movie at our weekly movie nights anytime soon. Rather, the shift was a quiet realization: sometimes, doing the things that scare us the most teaches us how brave we can actually be.
Simply knowing that I was surrounded by hundreds of other people going through the same experience as me made me feel instantaneously more relaxed (or as relaxed when one can be when being chased by an eight-foot-tall demon bird in stilts). When watching horror movies at 2 am in the darkness of my room, there was a sense of existential dread that engulfed me. My overactive imagination would conceptualize mysterious creatures lurking beyond the frame, making me hyperaware of my surroundings and more susceptible to my thoughts. At Halloween Horror Nights, though, every scare led to laughter, a funny interaction with a scare actor, or a new inside joke among my friends and me. The scares weren’t internalized anymore; they were a shared experience.
The thrill of the adrenaline rush, combined with the high-energy park and vibrant crowd, made it feel like a massive party. The fear became fun because the people were fun. Every sudden appearance of a chainsaw man or Art the Clown sent the crowd into a frenzy of shrieks. Instead of shying away, though, the contagious excitement transformed what I had anticipated would be an anxiety-inducing experience into one I couldn’t get enough of. For once, I couldn’t care less about the fear I was experiencing; I was too busy living in the moment. At the end of the night, leaving felt as heavy as saying goodbye to a lifelong friend.
But most importantly, so much of my experience was shaped by the people I was with. From downing four churros to collect the “One Wish Churro” boxes inspired by the breakout horror film Obsession, to running into two Harry Potter death eaters who kept finding us throughout the park and making fun of my friends and me, being chased by trees and getting laughed at by the people around us, taking cute pictures and being photobombed by scare actors, sprinting to the Terror Tram line (which was still 40 minutes long even after all of that cardio) while playing charades in the hour-long lines for the haunted houses, thirsting over the Sinners haunted house and tearing up when “Purple Rain” played at the end of the Stranger Things house, the moments I remember most are not the scariest ones.Â
I would be lying if I said that I was fearless by the end of the night. I still have no plans to become a horror movie enthusiast and will most definitely be begging my friends for movie spoilers to plan for jump scares, pulling my hair out when characters willingly walk into a dark hallway to investigate a mysterious noise that is quite obviously going to lead to their death, and running out of the room when things start to get a little too scary for my taste.
But, if Halloween Horror Nights showed me anything, it’s that sometimes, it can be life changing to let your friends drag you into a terrifying haunted house that you never would have entered otherwise.
I went into Halloween Horror Nights ready to be terrified but left overjoyed, with amazing memories and plans to return again next year, and the year after that, and the year after that.
So yes, I can 1,000% confirm that I still hate horror movies, but Halloween Horror Nights reminded me that sometimes the experiences that we are the most reluctant to pursue are the ones we become most grateful to have. So, if that means willingly walking into a park filled with chainsaws, dementors, unusually fast trees, and spooky churros, maybe I’m braver than I thought.