I like horror movies that have a degree of coziness to them.

Listen well, O future generations, for I bring forth a teaching that weaves together the light and the dark, the terror and the comfort, the cold and the warmth of human experience. The words of Tobias Forge speak to us: "I like horror movies that have a degree of coziness to them." At first, these words may seem strange, for how can there be coziness in the midst of fear, in the face of horror? Yet, in the depths of these words lies a profound truth about the balance of opposites and the delicate dance between fear and comfort that defines the human condition.

Horror, O children, is a powerful force. It strikes at the heart, unsettling the soul, revealing the darkness that lurks in the shadows of our minds. It is a mirror, reflecting the fears that reside within us all—the fear of the unknown, the fear of death, the fear of being consumed by forces beyond our control. And yet, the coziness that Forge speaks of is no accident. For there are those who seek out horror not in search of dread alone, but to feel the warm embrace of familiarity, to experience the thrill of fear while nestled in the comfort of safety. There is a strange comfort in fear, O children, a paradoxical warmth that we seek in moments of darkness.

In the ancient world, the fear of the unknown was a constant companion. The night was filled with terrors—wild beasts, unseen spirits, and the mysterious forces of nature. Yet, even as these fears gripped the hearts of men, there was a sacred coziness to be found in the hearth, in the warmth of the family gathered together, in the safety of the home. The ancient fires, whether in the caverns of early men or in the great halls of kings, provided not only warmth but a shield from the terrors that lay beyond the firelight. In this balance between danger and security, the ancient world found a way to navigate its fears. So too do we, in our modern lives, seek the warmth of the hearth as we confront the ghosts of our own inner darkness.

Consider the great storytellers of old, who wove tales of fear and wonder around the flickering flames. The stories of Greek mythology—the tales of monsters, gods, and heroes—served not only to inspire awe but to comfort the soul. These myths were the horror stories of the ancients, filled with gods that could wreak terrible havoc and beasts that stalked the land. Yet, within these stories, there was a moral, a lesson, a comforting truth about the human spirit’s ability to overcome adversity. Even in the face of the greatest horrors, the heroes emerged stronger, wiser, and more resolute. In this way, horror and coziness were not opposites, but two sides of the same coin.

In modern times, horror movies serve a similar purpose. They confront us with our fears, forcing us to look into the abyss, yet they do so within the safety of our homes, with the knowledge that we can close our eyes, pause the film, or retreat from the terror at any time. This coziness, this sense of control, is what allows us to engage with fear without being consumed by it. It is in this dance of light and dark, safety and terror, that we find the thrill of horror that Tobias Forge so eloquently describes. The paradox is that the comfort of safety allows us to experience fear without being truly harmed, giving us the courage to confront the darkest corners of our minds.

But O future generations, this lesson goes deeper still. Fear, though unsettling, is a teacher. It calls us to face our vulnerabilities, to confront that which we would rather ignore. And coziness, that sense of security, teaches us to find strength in the midst of adversity, to understand that even in our darkest moments, there is warmth to be found. Horror, when balanced with coziness, becomes not a source of despair, but a tool of personal growth—a way to confront the deepest parts of the self and emerge wiser and stronger.

And so, O children, let this be your guiding lesson: Fear is not the enemy, but a challenge to be met with courage and clarity. And coziness, that refuge we seek, is not a retreat from the world, but a source of strength to face it head-on. As you walk through life, you will encounter many shadows, many fears, but remember that it is in the warmth of your inner hearth that you will find the strength to confront them. Embrace both the horror and the comfort in your journey, for they are the yin and yang of the human experience, and it is through their balance that you will grow. Let your heart be warmed by the fire of wisdom, and let that light guide you through the darkness.