How YouTube Became the New Home of Horror

A film can begin with a knock at the door. Or a strange, half-glimpsed silhouette in the dim lamplight. Or a smile that lingers just a second too long on a stranger’s face. In the world of short-form horror, it doesn't take much for everyday events to spiral into spooky nightmare territory. Films with a running time of fifteen minutes or less, like The Smiling Man (2015, A.J. Briones), Other Side of the Box (2018, Caleb J. Phillips), and Double Vision (2024, Isabelle Kiser), have racked up millions of views since premiering on YouTube through channels like ALTER, a channel exclusively for horror short films. This (often) low-budget filmmaking mirrors the immediacy of urban legends that play on fears of stranger danger or uncanny worries that something terrible can happen to an ordinary person like you.

Horror shorts often tot up viewer numbers through YouTube’s algorithm, where a chilling thumbnail can pique the interest of an idle viewer (and generate viral viewing numbers). The platform offers an experimental testing ground for emerging filmmakers to showcase their filmmaking style. Structurally, many of these films mimic the style of Creepypasta urban legends which are shared in forums online. The films often open in an ordinary, domestic setting. A quirk in a lead character’s day-to-day routine hints that something is not quite right in their surroundings. Once-familiar homes quickly transform into a haunted maze of supernatural danger where characters cannot trust what they see. In the final scenes, they come face-to-face with a grotesque presence with little explanation of the creature’s origin or backstory. This ambiguity leaves the viewer’s imagination to dwell on what happens next. 

These short films are the horror equivalent of a catchy tune you can't shake. Images from the films replay in your mind’s eye long after you've clicked away. Take, for instance, The Smiling Man, A.J. Briones’s short feature. It follows a young girl left home alone, who wanders into the darkened kitchen only to find herself face-to-face with a grotesque and grinning figure that lures her in with a balloon (with echoes of the perversely playful Pennywise in Stephen King’s It). The closing scenes reveal that the grinning figure has murdered her mother, and the final shot rests on the child’s face, which is frozen in silent terror. The creature’s cackling face lingers onscreen long enough to sear itself into the viewer’s memory. The narrative arc is simple, and the slow build, a burst of horror, and the catharsis of shock are all delivered in under ten minutes.

The Smiling Man is part of a growing body of YouTube horror shorts that reward brevity and jump scares. This brevity lends itself to dry online humor. The tongue-in-cheek comments section of The Smiling Man reveals a hooked audience trying to reassure themselves with jokes (“Pennywise's dad is looking a bit dry these days”).  Yet the audiences acknowledge the deeper meanings within the short running times.  One comment observes some pop-Freudian symbolism layered within the short film: “I loved the interpretation of the smiling man being an abusive father as this would make sense as to why the little girl has no fear of him even upon seeing her mother dead.  Because it’s still her father and someone she hasn’t learned to distrust yet […] yet maybe after this great job Alter!!  I am obsessed with Alter anyone else?!”

As a result of the viral success of these films, horror storytelling itself is evolving, with emergent directors looking to generate impactful scares that hook viewers quickly and have a richer, psychological depth that convinces producers that there is enough material for a longer feature film. Lights Out (2013, David Sandberg) is the poster child for a horror short that successfully leapt to feature film. Originally a 3-minute short, Lights Out terrified audiences with its minimalist setup: A woman turns off the lights and glimpses a shadowy figure that vanishes when the lights come on. The short went viral, racking millions of views and catching the attention of Hollywood producer James Wan (The Conjuring and M3GAN). Three years later, Sandberg directed the feature-length version of Lights Out (2016) for New Line Cinema. 

Another notable example is Other Side of the Box (2018), a tightly wound short by Caleb J. Phillips that begins with a mysterious parcel left on a couple’s doorstep. The short film’s viral success helped Phillips secure funding to develop a feature-length version, now in post-production with SpectreVision and slated for release in early 2026. Many of these viral films share a stripped-back aesthetic that prioritizes mood, tension and clever practical effects necessary with low-budget films. Domestic spaces, including kitchens, hallways, and bedrooms, are transformed into sites of dread, often lit in shadowy blues and grays that enhance a sense of claustrophobia. Sound design is subtle, with creaking floorboards and abrupt silences, and builds a psychological unease. These production values keep costs low while ramping up the jump-scare factor.

Low production values are also a psychological trick. By keeping the monster half-glimpsed or the threat undefined, viewers can project their fears onto the gaps. Rachel Walkup, writing for Collider argues that there is no obvious way of categorizing horror shorts. “Each [short] varies heavily even if they fall into similar subgenres, and each carries a unique mood and atmosphere. There’s something for everyone, whether they’re fans of classic horror, blood and guts, terrifying mysteries, horror comedies, or any other niche horror market.” These suggestive styles of horror tap into a primal fear of the unknown, which, when paired with the intimacy of the YouTube viewing experience (often consumed alone, late at night), creates a deeply personal kind of dread.

The stylistic influence of YouTube horror shorts is increasingly visible in mainstream, long-form horror. Features like Smile (2022) and Talk to Me (2023) borrow the same ambiguity and pared-back visuals of short-form horror. Key scenes in Smile, notably, echo short-form horror, including the film’s use of unsettling facial expressions and abrupt tonal shifts. In one standout moment, a traumatized woman calmly smiles at the protagonist before slashing her own throat. The act unfolds in one continuous, tension-filled shot. The shock is intensified not by gore, but by the unnatural stillness and eerie grin that echo viral images from horror shorts like The Smiling Man. 

Even streaming giants like Netflix and Hulu have begun incorporating short horror into their programming, with anthologies like Two Sentence Horror Stories (2017–22) and Monsterland (2020) reflecting this shift toward short and memorable psychological horrors. In Monsterland, the horror lies more in grief and emotional ambiguity than monstrous scares or body horror. This style is especially evident in episodes like “Port Fourchon, LA.” In this episode, a young waitress encounters a shape-shifting creature posing as her estranged mother. In “Newark, NJ,” a man haunted by guilt is visited by a vision of an undead girl whose quiet presence and bloodstained dress evoke the stark, minimalist dread of short-form horror. Like their YouTube counterparts, these episodes favor suggestion over splendor, building unease through stillness and moral ambiguity. 

As new filmmakers enter the industry, we may see more features that mimic the rhythm and tone of viral shorts. Horror’s next generation may be shaped less by traditional studio setups and more by creative trends that take off with internet audiences. This shift reflects the changing media landscape of how audiences are consuming and responding to horror cinema. There are risks to this shift. While short-form horror encourages immediacy and emotional punch, it can also favor formula over depth. Still, in the hands of new filmmakers, this trend may bring audiences a new wave of horror that’s unafraid to make their audiences uncomfortable through quiet and stillness.

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Article written by Christina Brennan

Christina Brennan is a writer and reviewer whose work has appeared in various places, including Little White Lies, Flux Magazine, and Horror Homeroom. She’s been a reviewer for the Salem Horror Film Festival and Glasgow FrightFest Film Festival. She’s also writing a book on George Sluizer's The Vanishing, a film that Stanley Kubrick called the most terrifying film he'd ever seen. Read more: https://www.christinabrennan.net/ Twitter: @bigloudscreams

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