Return of the King: The rise of coming-of-age horror on streaming

A small town. A handful of teenagers trying to make sense of life – often on bicycles – while being stalked by supernatural forces that seem curiously confined to their hometown. If this description sounds familiar, it should. Multiple shows or films likely came to mind before you finished the sentence.

In recent years, this trope has become almost unavoidable in horror storytelling. It began with "Stranger Things", followed by "Dark", and now HBO has returned to the well with a new series rooted in Stephen King's "It" universe. Like its predecessors, the show has been warmly received. The question, then, is not whether this formula works – but why it has resurged so forcefully.

All of these shows, to varying degrees, owe something to Stephen King. It would not be an exaggeration to say that if Derry did not exist, the Upside Down might not have either. After decades of dominating bookstores and box offices worldwide, King has re-emerged to assert a similar influence over streaming platforms as well.

The roots of this trend can be traced back to "The Body", a comparatively overlooked King novella that later became a cult classic after Rob Reiner adapted it for the screen as "Stand by Me". Much like "It", "The Body" follows a group of adolescents drawn together by a grim discovery – a dead body – and the journey that follows. Unlike "It", however, the story contains no supernatural elements. Its horror is ordinary: death itself, encountered too early.

Yet "The Body" laid the groundwork for what would become the coming-of-age horror genre. It demonstrated that adolescence, with its confusion, vulnerability, and fragile friendships, is fertile ground for fear. "It" expanded this idea by externalising those anxieties into something monstrous. The bittersweet turbulence of growing up was transformed into horror, and Pennywise became not just a villain but a cultural symbol – so ubiquitous that Halloween without him felt incomplete.

But "Stranger Things" has received a completely different audience base than Stephen King's "It". "Stranger Things" and "Dark" contain all the elements King's "It" does, but while "Stranger Things" has received mainstream viewership, "It" has remained confined to horror fanbases.

The primary reason lies in how these shows are marketed. "It" presents itself as an overt, gory horror that demands endurance from its audience, foregrounding fear as the central experience. "Stranger Things", by contrast, adopts a far more inviting strategy. It draws in younger viewers by positioning itself as a story about high school friendships that happens to involve cosmic monsters.

In "Stranger Things", horror is not the dominant selling point. Mystery takes precedence, supported by interpersonal relationships, adolescent dynamics, loyalty, and first love. The supernatural operates less as an end in itself and more as a narrative device that intensifies emotional stakes. As a result, the show broadens its appeal beyond horror enthusiasts, transforming fear into a shared backdrop rather than the defining feature.

What surprises me is that many viewers still place "It" above "Stranger Things" in terms of horror, despite the fact that "Stranger Things" is far gorier and more visually aggressive. Its strength lies in scale and myth-building. The Upside Down, the Mind Flayer, and Vecna are part of a carefully constructed universe where horror escalates through spectacle, body horror, and expanding lore. The fear is immediate and overwhelming, driven by imagery and world-building rather than slow psychological erosion.

If fear is measured through psychological intimacy, Pennywise is ultimately scarier than Vecna by contrast. Pennywise does not simply attack; he ingrains himself into the psyche of his victims. He studies their deepest fears, mirrors them back with precision, and returns across time, turning childhood trauma into something inescapable. His horror lingers because it is personal, rooted in memory, shame, and the long shadow of growing up in a place that refuses to let you forget.

What these stories ultimately suggest is that the most enduring horror does not come from monsters alone, but from memory: the terror of growing up, of losing innocence, and of realising that the world is far less safe than it once appeared.