THE GHOST AT SKELETON ROCK is the film I’ve been waiting decades to make. It’s rooted in the summer of 1992, the year I came out as a teenager in a small conservative town during the height of the AIDS crisis. Back then, silence was survival, and the fear around Queerness was so thick, it felt supernatural.

This is a fictional story, but it’s haunted by real memories: frantic drawings, rambling journal entries, obsession, and horniness. It’s a coming-of-age thriller about shame, desire, and what happens when a ghost story turns out to be true.

What makes this film unique is that it captures a specific moment in Queer history that’s largely unknown to younger generations, the moment when every act of intimacy, even a kiss, could feel dangerous. The specter of AIDS was everywhere, and so was the misinformation. You could catch it from a toothbrush. From sweat. From looking too long. That kind of fear shaped how an entire generation experienced desire, not as freedom, but as threat. That moment defined how many of us learned to cope and survive. That’s the energy I wanted to bring to this film.

This history is vanishing, even as we see the same rhetoric and repression rising again. THE GHOST AT SKELETON ROCK is about keeping that memory alive and sharing stories so we don’t repeat the same silences.

Made with support from the Princess Grace Foundation and a community of backers who understand what’s at stake, this project turns that haunted past into something beautiful, unnerving, and real. This is the film I needed when I was 15. I made it for anyone who’s ever felt invisible, or worse, cursed.


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