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This is part of my “Art of Noticing” series, in which I learn, find, or discover the things around me that usually go unnoticed and turn them into an endless source of creative inspiration.

Today I noticed how much LESS scary horror movies get in Act 3, when the hero finally finds and fights the monster. It made me think about the power of the unseen and unknown.

I’m a white-knuckle horror film fan. I like them, but I’m always nervous. But then I noticed how, once you can see the monster(s) or bad guy(s) enough for the hero to fight them, they’re no longer that scary, and I can un-white-knuckle and relax.

Like The Descent. It’s terrifying, but then the monsters truly attack and the women run for the exit, and it’s tense but not scary.

It’s why Paranormal Activity stayed scary until the end: Because you never DO see the monster.

And it’s why the movie Birdbox did a VERY, VERY, VERY smart move by keeping “the monster you can’t look at lest you go crazy” UNSEEN … which, by the way, wasn’t the original plan. A monster you can’t look at (because it takes the form of whatever scares you) is way scarier than anything you see.

If you doubt me, here’s what the monster in Birdbox was supposed to look like to Sandra Bullock’s baby/responsibility-fearing character:

This whole thing points to a truth: What people imagine, if they see nothing, is worse than anything they could be shown … and that waiting for something to attack is much worse than when it actually does.

So hey, writers: Pay attention.

Here's how this "noticing" can influence my stories and art:

In horror, the unseen and unknown can be a powerful source of fear. By withholding details about the antagonist or the threat, we leave all that to the audience's imagination. Imagination conjures up horrors far greater than anything explicitly shown. This technique can be employed in all sorts of narrative forms, from novels to screenplays, to keep the audience on edge.

Using shadows, sounds, and partial glimpses is usually far more effective in creating suspense and dread than simply showing the thing. The less the audience knows, the more their minds fill in the gaps, often with their own worst fears (like Birdbox baby-monsters. Scroll back up!) This kind of hide-and-seek heightens tension and makes the story more immersive, because the audience is actively participating in inventing the horror.

The key to using “the unknown” effectively is to balance the hiding and the showing of whatever-it-is. It's important to keep certain elements hidden, so providing just enough information to keep the audience engaged is the way to go. You want to draw them deeper into the story, eager to uncover the truth.

(This is all true in written work, by the way, even though my examples are films. As an author, you control your story’s “camera,” and you can decide what’s “show” through words.)

Using the unknown in stories is a great tool for creating suspense and fear. By balancing what’s shown and what’s left to the audience's imagination, we can craft narratives that are not only terrifying but also deeply engaging and thought-provoking.

P.S: Speaking of things I’ve been leaving to your imagination, it’s time to reveal one last horror:

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