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By Elizabeth Suggs

Captured, edited by Robin Knabel, isn’t just a horror anthology—it’s a love letter to a very specific form of nostalgia: the flickering light of a VHS tape, the maze of video rental shelves, and that sacred ritual of choosing the perfect Friday night movie. But it’s also a warning. These stories ask: what if the horror didn’t remain on the screen?

As someone who didn’t grow up in the �80s but still feels oddly attached to it through the pop culture it left behind, this collection really resonated with me. The stories here are soaked in that analog dread—the kind you can almost smell (tape sleeves, stale popcorn, and something else you can’t quite place). But what makes this anthology work isn’t just its setting. It’s how the authors use that nostalgic backdrop to explore deeper fears—about memory, karma, media, and the things we try to rewind but can’t.

Two stories stood out the most for me: Robin Knabel’s “The Bucket List� and Jonathan Reddoch’s “Vehicular Crash Report.� These weren’t just good horror stories—they lingered, long after I closed the book.

Robin’s story reads almost like a meditation on obsession, danger, and our relationship with media. It has this quiet, creeping dread, and the shark imagery brought me back to Jaws in the best way. It doesn’t scream �80s� in an obvious way, but it captures that era’s fascination with the line between real and recorded—especially when it comes to death. There’s a subtle nod to Faces of Death that ties it all together, and by the end, I felt like I’d just surfaced from deep water.

Jonathan’s “Vehicular Crash Report� takes a totally different tone—dry, darkly funny, and ultimately chilling. The format is clever, but it’s the story beneath that structure that really grabbed me. It’s a classic tale of karmic justice, but with enough originality and bite to make it feel fresh. That last line was so sharp it made me stop and reread it—one of those endings that just clicks.

Of course, the rest of the anthology has plenty to offer. Some stories lean more into traditional scares (“Raising Hell at Blockbuster� is pure rental-era chaos), while others dig into more psychological horror. “Cinema Vérité� brings cursed-object horror into the camcorder era, and “Skin Flicks� walks a fascinating line between gore and intimacy. The overall flow of the book is smooth, with each piece building on the atmosphere of the last.

What I appreciated most is that this isn’t just a trip down memory lane. It’s a reminder of how powerful stories—and the devices we use to tell them—can be. In the �80s, horror didn’t just live in theaters. It crept into living rooms, with the whir of a VCR, in the fuzzy image of a dubbed tape passed between friends. Captured taps into that fear and makes it feel immediate again.

If you’re someone who loves horror, especially the kind that makes you a little paranoid about the blinking light on your old electronics, this anthology is worth your time. It’s nostalgic, yes—but it’s also deeply unsettling in the best way. 

The real question is: Are you afraid, or will you press play?

Favorite Quotes: 

“The cage rubs against the boat with an orchestra of metallic screeches.�

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“And a few other appendages I won’t name.� (“Vehicular Report�)