Published January 23, 2024 by Page Street Kids

Labyrinth meets folk horror in this darkly romantic tale of a girl who wishes her baby brother away to the Lord of the Wood

Growing up in the small town of Winston, Pennsylvania feels like drowning. Leah goes to church every Sunday, works when she isn’t at school, and takes care of her baby brother, Owen. Like every girl in Winston, she tries to be right and good and holy. If she isn’t the Lord of the Wood will take her, and she’ll disappear like so many other girls before her.

But living up to the rigorous standards of the town takes its toll. One night, when Owen won’t stop screaming, Leah wishes him away, and the Lord listens. The screaming stops, and all that’s left in the crib is a small bundle of sticks tied with a ribbon.

Filled with shame and the weight of the town’s judgment, Leah is forced to cross the river into the Lord of the Wood’s domain to bring Owen back. But the devilish figure who has haunted Winston for generations isn’t what she expects. He tells her she can have her brother back―for the price of a song. A song that Leah will have one month to write.

It’s a bargain that will uncover secrets her hometown has tried to keep buried for decades. And what she unearths will have her questioning everything she’s been taught to fear.

Add to Goodreads

 

My Throat an Open Grave is a exploration of folklore, guilt, and the complexities of good and evil in small-town America. Set in Winston, Pennsylvania, the story follows 17-year-old Leah, who, after wishing her baby brother Owen away, must confront the Lord of the Wood—a mythical figure who has taken children for generations. 

Drawing comparisons to Labyrinth might be unfair. Yes, she wished the child away, and has to journey to get him back, but there is no jewelry-crazed Hoggle, tricksy labyrinth, or singing fireys swapping limbs and heads in this story. Nothing as fantastical as the world in which Sarah finds herself. Instead, Leah has to cross the river, find the terrifying Lord of the Wood and trade something of meaning to get her brother back. 

Leah's inner voice takes center stage often. She speaks to and about herself with a level of cruelty that’s difficult to stomach at times. Throughout the story, she repeats the idea that she’s broken, bad, or unlovable, and this negative self-talk becomes a major lens through which we see her experiences. Leah's self talk becomes a way to unravel not just who she is, but how others have defined her. It's heavy (and sometimes annoying).  Leah's journey isn’t just about confronting the Lord of the Wood—it’s also about confronting the narrative she’s been forced to believe about herself. 

While there are supernatural elements, the true horror in My Throat an Open Grave isn’t from the Lord or the forest, it’s in the silence of the town, in what people are willing to ignore, and in the way fear and guilt twist Leah’s choices. While those looking for more in-your-face horror will be disappointed, keep in mind this is rated young adult. I found it less eerie than just sad. 

Published October 17, 2023 by Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)

A bloodstained tale of a girl torn between her vows and her heart, where falling in love may be the deepest sin of all…

Everline Blackthorn has devoted her life to the wardens—a sect of holy warriors who guard against monsters known as the vespertine.

When a series of strange omens occur, Everline disobeys orders to investigate, and uncovers a startling truth in the form of Ravel Severin: a rogue vespertine who reveals the monsters have secrets of their own.

Ravel promises the help she needs— for a price. Vespertine magic requires blood, and if Everline wants Ravel to guide across the dangerous moorland, she will have to allow him to feed from her.

It’s a sin for a warden to feed a vespertine— let alone love one— and as Everline and Ravel travel further across the moorland, she realizes the question isn’t whether she will survive the journey, but if she will return unchanged. Or if she wants to.

Add to Goodreads

 

Unholy Terrors is a breathtaking descent into a world of ruined faith, cursed forests, and forbidden love. It’s the kind of gothic fantasy that is full of blood and bone-deep magic and decayed beauty. 

Set in a realm haunted by terrifying creatures called vespertine, the story follows Everline Blackthorn, a young warden bound by duty but born without magic. Her life has been shaped by silence, discipline, and the shadow of her mother’s betrayal. When she meets Ravel Severin—a boy she’s been taught to fear—Everline’s world begins to unravel. Forced into a dangerous alliance to save her best friend, she must question everything she’s ever believed about monsters, loyalty, and herself.

Clipstone’s writing is lush and immersive, filled with grief, rage, longing, and desire woven through every scene. The worldbuilding is gorgeous: ancient cathedrals slowly sliding into rot and ruin, magic that’s as much curse as blessing, and monsters that speak in riddles and memory. There’s an almost reverence for decay and ruin, making the setting feel like a living character in its own right.

The relationship between Everline and Ravel is at the heart of the novel, with their growing connection adding emotional depth to the story. It’s everything a gothic love story should be—slow-burning, feral, and dangerous. Everline and Ravel’s bond is rooted in shared pain and the brutal process of unlearning everything they’ve been taught about good and evil. Their connection is intense, yet tender, and never simple. Their dynamic is layered and complicated, exploring how love, loyalty, and betrayal intertwine in a world filled with secrets. 

Lyndall Clipstone has written a novel that feels like it was pulled from the bones of a dark fairytale—strange and darkly beautiful. Unholy Terrors is more than just a fantasy with monsters. It's about shedding the expectations that bind you, breaking free of old truths, and finding love in the last place you’re supposed to look.

Published March 28, 2023 by Tor Nightfire

A contemporary Southern Gothic from award-winning master of modern horror, T. Kingfisher. A House With Good Bones explores the deep, dark roots of family.

Sam Montgomery is worried about her mother. She seems anxious, jumpy, and she's begun making mystifying changes to the family home on Lammergeier Lane. Sam figures it has something to do with her mother's relationship to Sam's late, unlamented grandmother.

She's not wrong.

As vultures gather around the house and frightful family secrets are unearthed under the rosebushes, Sam struggles to unravel the truth about the house on Lammergeier Lane before it consumes her and everyone else who stands in its way...

Add to Goodreads

 

A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher is what happens when Southern hospitality meets creeping dread—and then both sit down for a very awkward family dinner. The story follows Sam, a refreshingly snarky archaeologist and bug enthusiast, who returns to her childhood home only to find her usually vibrant mother behaving like a polite, nervous stranger. The usually eccentric house is too clean, too white, the air too still and the garden? Let’s just say it has… opinions. Things go from “Hmm, that’s odd” to “Holy freaking ladybugs” in the best, weirdest way possible.

Kingfisher blends unsettling horror with laugh-out-loud moments in a way only she can. One minute you’re creeped out, the next you’re snorting at Sam’s deadpan commentary. It’s not a scream-fest, but it is eerie and absurd and deeply weird in the way only Kingfisher does. One minute you're reading about ghostly whispers and oppressive vibes, the next you're laughing at Sam's sarcastic inner monologue or her casual conversations about bugs. The horror here is more unsettling than terrifying, but it sticks with you—and there's a wonderfully grotesque twist that really delivers.

The novel spends a lot of time carefully layering tension, hinting at deep-rooted family trauma, strange supernatural forces, and an ominous legacy tied to the grandmother’s influence. But when the horror finally arrives, it feels a bit rushed and underdeveloped. It’s not a bad ending by any means, it’s quirky, bold, and in line with the novel’s tone but compared to the expansiveness of the first two-thirds, it feels like it wrapped up too quickly. Despite that, Kingfisher remains on the must-read list for me.