
A pastel milkshake parlour is not the place you expect to meet fear. Yet in Strawberry Sweet Killers, horror finds a way.
The short film by Bethany Barich takes something familiar and comfortable and twists it into unease. It’s revenge served in a sugar-coated setting.
“I knew that I wanted to work within the genre as young as 12,” Barich says. “Horror has no limits, and there’s a million ways someone can tell a story.”
That endless potential powers Strawberry Sweet Killers horror short film, which blends camp, and revenge to explore power & patriarchy in unexpected ways.
Why Strawberry Sweet Killers Horror Short Film Uses Familiar Spaces

Barich says horror thrives in everyday settings. Safety makes disruption scarier.
“You’re comfortable in your apartment, your car, your work,” she says. “But what happens when you introduce something sinister?”
The idea came from her own job at a milkshake shop. At first, she imagined employees sacrificing new hires to appease “milkshake Gods.” Over time, the story transformed into something darker, and layered with meaning.
Influences Behind Strawberry Sweet Killers
Wes Craven’s slashers shaped Barich’s early love for horror. But Strawberry Sweet Killers also draws from more recent feminist horror.
“Specifically for Strawberry Sweet Killers, I pulled a lot of inspiration creatively from Karyn Kusama and Diablo Cody, and Jennifer’s Body,” she says. She also looked to Promising Young Woman and Emerald Fennell’s pastel aesthetic.
For Barich, the thrill comes from horror’s range. “Horror is…horrifying, but it can also be fun! I love being able to scare people one second but make them laugh the next.”
Tension at the Core of Strawberry Sweet Killers Horror Short Film

The short plays out like a cat-and-mouse game. Characters flirt & taunt while pushing boundaries in ways that blur predator and prey.
“I wanted them to play with their food,” Barich says. Sexual tension and playful dialogue heightened the film’s danger.
Visually, she stuck close to her original vision. “Everything after Lucas comes in from taking the trash out is nearly exactly how I saw it in my head,” she says.
With just 20 minutes, Barich had to quickly make characters relatable, or unlikeable. That, she says, was the hardest task.
Exposing Lucas’s past without slowing the pace was another challenge. She wanted the audience to understand the truth without bogging the story down.
Catharsis Through Horror
For Barich, Strawberry Sweet Killers offers an outlet.
“Strawberry Sweet Killers can definitely be viewed as a release,” she says.
“Good for Her horror is cathartic, and my goal was to make a movie that felt that way.”
Shot at Iceburg’s Ice Cream in Canonsburg, Penn., the film showcases Barich’s ability to transform the ordinary into horror. She is already developing more projects: a body horror short called Tokophobia and a religious horror feature.
For now, she hopes viewers see Strawberry Sweet Killers as both stylish and empowering. “I hope audiences enjoy it and consider it a good entry in the ‘Good for Her’ subgenre,” she says.
Bethany Barich’s work proves that underneath what we consider comfortable and safe—including a milkshake shop—we can potentially find something dangerous and unsettling.