- He was a ghost all along.
- Her “parents” had actually kidnapped her as a child.
- The monster had been protecting her all this time.
- Poor little Billy died a gruesome death but didn’t stay dead.
- The secret behind old lady Gertrude’s meat pies are a healthy portion of human fetuses.
- You’re not safe because it’s right behind you!
I’m tired of these stories. None of you know how to write a good twist anymore. You know how to recycle old ideas, but you don’t do it well. When I can predict your twist by the end of your first paragraph, that’s a problem.
It’s time we changed this and teach you all how to make a proper twist in horror. Let’s run through some scenarios:
1. I’m a charming, good-looking man who has wooed a woman over the course of three dinner dates. I take interest in her hobbies, express concern about her troubles, and “get” her. By all accounts, I’m the perfect man. In reality, I’m a serial killer, and she’s my next target.
This isn’t a twist; it’s a cliché. Let’s take it a step further:
2. She invites me back to her home for sex. We’re reaching the height of our passionate dance, and I’m ready to crush her throat. True to the horror genre, her vagina suddenly opens up into this toothy maw and devours me in the most painful, emasculating way possible.
This is unsettling—and tragic— but not a solid twist. Would-be murderer killed by seemingly innocent victim? Done a hundred times. I can even think of at least three other times a vagina has killed a man. I can think of several thousand more examples if we’re talking figuratively.
3. What if I don’t die once I’m eaten? What if my consciousness takes control of the woman? I become her; I learn how to live as she does. All the while, a primal need grows within, hungering for human flesh.
Some writers would call this a twist, claiming that the story can end satisfactorily because they implied the murderous cycle would continue. This is just lazy writing. This should be the meat of the story, not the butt end.
4. Now let’s imagine I become aware of three other states of consciousness in my brain. There is another man, and I know of his life just as well as I do mine. He was a womanizer who picked the wrong woman. He “ate” me. Another consciousness exists “below” him, that of a lesbian lover who hoped things would go right this time. Her life is fuzzy, almost like a worn VHS tape. The guy below her feels only like a silhouette of a man. I can barely understand any events of his life. Just raw emotions. We can add that they are all crying, pleading for me to not kill anyone. The lowest state of consciousness is stuck on a constant, low scream.
At this point, we’ve finally reached some level of creepiness, the hook which allows for a later twist. Let’s add something more absurd to build the suspense.
5. Below all of these consciousnesses is an empty pit, a void. I could confuse it for the edge of my awareness, but it’s something else. Some entity exists in there, and I can feel its pull. Sometimes the others warn me about it.
Ready your pencils: is this a twist? If you’ve paid attention this far, you know it isn’t. We have the hook and now a conflict. We need a climax, and the twist could fill that role.
6. Now, allow time to pass. I succumb to the urge and consume another human. My consciousness is “pushed down” a layer, and the screaming guy disappears into the void. Now the woman has descended into incoherent babbling, and I find my personality blurring with the others, specifically the new dominant personality.
The answer to scenario six is the same as the ones before it. There be no twist here. It’s important to understand this next part because I will add a minor twist. This twist is meant to add spice to the story, not be the main flavor. A little salt improves a meal. Too much ruins it.
7. Through sheer willpower, I wrangle control of the body from the dominant consciousness. I still exist on the second layer of awareness, but I get to control the girl. I get to live as a functioning human a little longer. However, I cannot stave off my urge to feed, and soon enough, after two more helpings, I find myself as the lowest state of being. I still control the girl, but one more feeding and to the void I go.
Again, this is all exposition, allowing a twist to fester and grow. We haven’t fully prepared for the twist yet because we don’t fully understand the void. We must look into it for a bit.
How much description do we need? We need to capture the atmosphere at least. We could say that looking into the maw might initially create a feeling of warmth, almost like you belong in there. Your consciousness slips ever so slightly into the void’s pull, allowing the warmth to recreate your physical body. This warmth then turns sickly as you feel it wriggle within your veins, burrowing into your nerves and wrapping around your brain. Centipede legs march along the back of your eyes, and its body chokes you as it extends up and out of your throat. 8. Vertigo sets in, causing your vision to become jagged swirls of shadowy creatures with branching limbs, gnashing teeth, decaying flesh, oozing tumors, millions of eyes. Everyone is screaming but their mouths are fused shut, they have no eyes, and they have stretched into the walls and floors of this place. My consciousness slips 9. stretches sucked into the vortex. The air reeks of vomit I vomit my body melts with other flesh GET OUT OF MY THOUGHTS I’m burning and10. they’re eating us it hurts and they won’t stop stop it it hurts stop 11.
That’s about all you need describe the atmosphere. Add more if you’d like, but this is enough to get me going.
This leaves us with the twist. I’ll give you three options and see if you can identify the good one:
- This void exists in all of us. Only my character is distinctly aware of it.
- Channeling his own murderous energies, my character devours the void and becomes the true monster.
- In my character’s attempt to push the other states of consciousness below him, he shatters the mental bonds which trapped the void, thus unleashing its apocalyptic being upon the world.
Have your answer yet?
If you chose option 1, you’ve learned nothing. “It’s in all of us” is one of the most stereotypical twists out there. If you said option 2, you selected an “unrealistic” twist which the audience will reject. How can a mortal “eat” an ancient, intangible monster? Lastly, if you picked option 3, you fell for a more complex version of “it’s right behind you.” By “endangering” the reader, you have given up on creating a twist by yourself and relied on scared teenagers up past their bedtime to “fill in the blanks” for you.
What’s the true answer? I don’t know. I believe I have been crafty in developing the story this far, but I’ll acknowledge I can’t create a satisfactory twist for it either. I’ve set myself up without thinking it through. I’m only good enough to be the writing teacher, not the writer.
The story could finish here, with my character suspended above everlasting doom. It could still be considered good horror. Not all stories need a twist, especially not a bad one. Some end just as everyone predicted it would, and sometimes the horror comes from the fact that the ending was inevitable.
I find such a conclusion unsatisfactory. I believe our lovable serial killer deserves a more unexpected ending, one that does not see him fall prey to the void. Because I can’t create it, myself, I challenge you all of prove your writing ability and make it for me. Show me what you have learned. With all of your minds working together, maybe one of you will strike a fountain of creativity. Clichés will not be tolerated.
I’ll be the first to admit this is not an easy task. Personally, it’s been driving me insane for weeks. Any longer, and I don’t know what I’ll do.