Published November 4, 2025 by Berkley 

A woman must confront the evil that's been terrorizing her street since she was a child in this gripping haunted house novel from the national bestselling author of The House That Horror Built and Good Girls Don’t Die.

On an otherwise ordinary street in Chicago, there is a house. An abandoned house where, once upon a time, terrible things happened. The children who live on this block are told by their parents to stay away from that house. But of course, children don’t listen. Children think it’s fun to be scared, to dare each other to go inside.

Jessie Campanelli did what many older sisters do and dared her little brother Paul. But unlike all the other kids who went inside that abandoned house, Paul didn’t return. His two friends, Jake and Richie, said that the house ate Paul. Of course adults didn’t believe that. Adults never believe what kids say. They thought someone kidnapped Paul, or otherwise hurt him. They thought Paul had disappeared in a way that was ordinary, explainable.

The disappearance of her little brother broke Jessie’s family apart in ways that would never be repaired. Jessie grew up, had a child of her own, kept living on the same street where the house that ate her brother sat, crouched and waiting. And darkness seemed to spread out from that house, a darkness that was alive—alive and hungry.

Add to Goodreads

 

This is horror tucked inside a monster house, with an entire cosmos pulsing just beneath the floorboards. The house is alive in that constant, watching-you way, crowded with impossible voices and layered tragedy. Cosmic horror often feels vast and distant, but here it’s close. It presses in. It’s slow, suffocating, and painfully personal. The universe doesn’t just fail to care. It mocks.

What hit hardest was the found family at the center of it. These characters are bound together by shared damage, survival, and the kind of loyalty that forms after everyone else has already failed you. The house has taken so much from the neighborhood, and they stay behind to bear witness. To keep watch. To carry the guilt that refuses to be outrun.

Bleak, eerie, and still emotionally cutting.

Published April 9, 2024 by Tor Nightfire

A crew must try to survive on an ancient, abandoned planet in the latest space horror novel from S.A. Barnes, acclaimed author of Dead Silence.

Space exploration can be lonely and isolating.

Psychologist Dr. Ophelia Bray has dedicated her life to the study and prevention of ERS—a space-based condition most famous for a case that resulted in the brutal murders of twenty-nine people. When she's assigned to a small exploration crew, she's eager to make a difference. But as they begin to establish residency on an abandoned planet, it becomes clear that crew is hiding something.

While Ophelia focuses on her new role, her crewmates are far more interested in investigating the eerie, ancient planet and unraveling the mystery behind the previous colonizer's hasty departure than opening up to her.

That is, until their pilot is discovered gruesomely murdered. Is this Ophelia’s worst nightmare starting—a wave of violence and mental deterioration from ERS? Or is it something more sinister?

Terrified that history will repeat itself, Ophelia and the crew must work together to figure out what’s happening. But trust is hard to come by…and the crew isn’t the only one keeping secrets.

Add to Goodreads

 

S.A. Barnes catapulted herself onto my must-read list with Dead Silence in 2022.  Space horror isn't something I typically pick up, but I adored her take on an abandoned ghost ship in space. Choosing to read Ghost Station was, therefore, a complete no-brainer for me. 

Set on a remote research outpost far from Earth, Ghost Station follows a team sent to investigate an abandoned space station with a dark history. Psychologist Dr. Ophelia Bray is sent along with them to ensure everyone remains in a good mental state while away. Of course, that makes her the outsider. The crew, who have been on previous missions together, is tense, secretive, and clearly hiding something from Ophelia. 

Ghost Station delivers Barnes' blend of sci-fi horror stout with atmospheric dread, deep psychological apprehension, and a feeling of aloneness.  The tension that Barnes creates in the station and between the characters is prominent. You feel the seclusion, the anxiety, the creeping sense that something is very wrong, even as you still aren't sure what. 

Here's where it went wrong for me. There's a lot of telling, not showing, in this book.  Granted, there's a lot of backstory to get through, but so much of it is given to us in the form of Ophelia's inner monologue. Ophelia is deeply unreliable with herself while trying to portray herself to her team as a reliable psychologist. She second-guesses every sensation, every memory, every emotional reaction. While I understand the results, it was exhausting to read. I wanted more horror, less emotional vacillation.

While Ghost Station didn’t absolutely blow me away, it definitely kept me interested in some of the mysteries and had some really creepy moments. If you’re into slow-burn sci-fi horror with great atmosphere and unreliable characters, it's worth a read. It just didn't quite make it into the territory of Dead Silence.

Published February 4, 2025 by St. Martin's Griffin

Twenty-five-year-old Calla Williams is struggling since becoming guardian to her brother, Jamie. Calla is overwhelmed and tired of being the one who makes sacrifices to keep the family together. Jamie, full of good-natured sixteen-year-old recklessness, is usually off fighting for what matters to him or getting into mischief, often at the same time. Dre, their brother, promised he would help raise Jamie–but now the ink is dry on the paperwork and in classic middle-child fashion, he’s off doing his own thing. And through it all, The Nightmare never stops haunting Calla: recurring images of her brothers dying that she is powerless to stop.

When Jamie’s actions at a protest spiral out of control, the siblings must go on the run. Taking refuge in a remote cabin that looks like it belongs on a slasher movie poster rather than an AirBNB, the siblings now face a new threat where their lives–and reality–hang in the balance. Their sister always warned them about her nightmares. They really should have listened.

Add to Goodreads

 

Listen to Your Sister caught me completely off guard. The cover and blurb hint at a haunted house story, maybe a slow-burn spookfest. That’s not what this book is doing. It’s sharper, stranger, and far more emotionally intense than that.

Calla Williams is holding her family together with white-knuckle perseverance. She’s stepped into the adult role by default, trying to parent two brothers who resent her for it, even as they rely on her completely. She’s haunted by nightmares of their deaths, and the pressure of those dreams colliding with real life begins to warp her reality in genuinely horrifying ways.

This book runs on raw emotion. Grief morphs into rage, rage into guilt, guilt into love, and the whole thing barrels forward like a broken roller coaster that never slows down enough for you to catch your breath. Reality and the supernatural blend so seamlessly that you’re never quite sure what’s happening in Calla’s mind and what’s happening in the world, which only deepens the unease.

The sibling dynamics are messy and authentic. Calla is exhausted, grieving, angry, guilty, and stubbornly refusing to let go. She loves her brothers fiercely with all her heart, but they only see it as suffocating. There's grief, rage, love, and guilt—all tightly interlaced. Viel turns that emotional knot into horror, not with cheap scares, but by forcing you to sit inside the mess with her characters. The fear comes from love curdling under stress, from responsibility turning into a trap, from knowing everyone is hurting and no one knows how to stop it.

If you’re not a fan of fever-dream-like books that prioritize emotion over straightforward truths, this might not be your book. But if you enjoy horror that creeps under your skin because it acknowledges how difficult family can be, obligation can be stifling, and that you sometimes can love people too much, Listen to Your Sister is unforgettable.

Published March 24, 2026 by Tor Nightfire

Something darker than the devil stalks the North Carolina woods in Wolf Worm, a new gothic masterpiece from New York Times bestselling author T. Kingfisher.

The year is 1899 and Sonia Wilson is a scientific illustrator without work, prospects, or hope. When the reclusive Dr. Halder offers her a position illustrating his vast collection of insects, Sonia jumps at the chance to move to his North Carolina manor house and put her talents to use. But soon enough she finds that there are darker things at work than the Carolina woods. What happened to her predecessor, Halder’s wife? Why are animals acting so strangely, and what is behind the peculiar local whispers about “blood thiefs?”

With the aid of the housekeeper and a local healer, Sonia discovers that Halder’s entomological studies have taken him down a dark road full of parasitic maggots that burrow into human flesh, and that his monstrous experiments may grow to encompass his newest illustrator as well.

Add to Goodreads

Wolf Worm is T. Kingfisher's latest offering: a Gothic horror set amid the dense undergrowth of body horror on the lush, forest floor of Southern charm and weirdness. This time, facing down the absurdity is Sonia Wilson, an illustrator hired to draw insects for the unsociable and ill-mannered Dr. Hader. Kingfisher once again takes an everyday somebody and drops them right into her gruesome biological catastrophe.

Some readers might struggle with the slow-burning, atmospheric build-up of Wolf Worm. It's an insidious, creeping dread as Wilson discovers the wrongness of her environment. The horror doesn't leap out and wail. It encroaches on your awareness with little by little, with phantom sensations of wriggling bodies and tickling wings. This is the perfect hallmark of Gothic fiction, so I wasn't upset at the slow pacing.

No one really does weird like Kingfisher, yet her voice always has this peculiar balance between cozy and unsettling, mingling with the absurd. Her characters are just average Joes, wandering into the nightmareish, and having to totally wing it. They face their fear, yes, but not with superhuman prowess, but in the same way a child clutches a flashlight and faces the proverbial boogeyman under their bed. They just do, because the only way is through. Wilson is a perfect example of this; she's unnerved, but she keeps going anyway. 

And who wouldn't be unnerved? Kingfisher has scripted her most cringeworthy horror yet—bugs. This book gets under your skin, literally. A "wolf worm" is the larva of the Cuterebra botfly that burrows under the skin and lives there, growing, until it drops out to start the cycle again. I was previously familiar with "warbles", as they are sometimes called, having worked in vet medicine before. (I once horrified a female client by plucking one out of a lump on her cat with forceps. In hindsight, I probably should have explained first. Oops.) These things have always icked me out, but hearing that they are also called wolf worms was new to me. As if the typical creepy crawlies aren't bad enough, Kingfisher's larvae come with... let's just say, abnormal capabilities. 

Reading a story by Kingfisher is like Wilson searching through the bug library drawers. There’s always something peculiar and something enormously endearing awaiting discovery in the next drawer. I can't wait to read whatever she comes up with next. 

Published June 10, 2025 by Wicked House Publishing

For fans of "The Haunting of Hill House" and "The Haunting of Bly Manor".

Noelle, a tragedy-ridden hospice worker with a unique connection to death, accepts a job caring for the dying patriarch of the reclusive August family at their lakefront manor just outside the town of Bell River, Oregon. The house does not have electricity, and the eccentric nature of the family is displayed through the grotesque artwork that lines the walls of the manor.

As Noelle wrestles with her own struggles with understanding her connection to death, she is also plunged headfirst into the dark mysteries surrounding the August family. The dying patriarch who she is strangely never able to see. The head of the household incapable of giving a straight answer, and a boy unable to speak but clearly terrified of something.

But above all, she must uncover the answers behind the ashen footprints she finds all over the house at night and the withered figure she sees looming at the tree line across the lake.

Add to Goodreads

  

Ashes of August Manor has the moody, unsettling atmosphere Blaine Daigle is known for. Its dark halls, foggy forests, and falling ashes only solidify the ghosts that haunt the manor and Noelle. The slow-burning tension, the creeping dread, and the feeling that something is inherently wrong are all present here, and Daigle’s descriptive style once again shines. August Manor is eerie and intriguing, and the family that inhabits it only lends strangeness to the place.

The mystery itself is solid, and the final reveal is satisfying enough, but the journey there didn’t seize me as his other stories have. There are plenty of supernatural elements at play, some villainy, and a bit of folk horror that I wish had a better seat at the table. There's some truly creepy imagery in Old Crow, the local legend that haunts the woods in its tattered red cloak, taloned hands, and beaked face. Daigle speaks of writing quiet horror, the type of horror that is macabre and melancholic, and he accomplishes that with every turn of the hallway, every squeak of the wood floors, and flash into the psyche of his characters. 

Compared to some of Daigle's other titles, this one doesn’t quite reach the same level of emotional weight. While his best books balance emotional depth with encroaching horror, the characters in Ashes of August Manor didn't stick with me the way his others have. A book centered around death and grief should have been emotionally devastating, but instead, due to its inconsistent pacing left me struggling at times, dipping into stretches that felt repetitive.  

 Overall, Ashes of August Manor is a respectable, gothic read with some classic Daigle elements. If you are looking for a slow-burning gothic horror, this one would sit well on your shelf. However, for long-time readers of Daigle's, it doesn’t quite reach the intensity or emotional profundity of his best work.

Published September 2, 2025 by Poisoned Pen Press

It's a Midsommar night's Scream in this blood-soaked thriller set at a remote healing retreat from horror author Brian McAuley.

Hannah has been running from her demons ever since she emerged from a harrowing wilderness trip without her fiancé. No one knows exactly what happened the day Ben died, and Hannah would like to keep it that way... even if his ghost still haunts her with vivid waking nightmares that are ruining her life. So when her friend group gets an exclusive invitation to a restorative spiritual retreat in Joshua Tree, Hannah reluctantly agrees in search of a fresh start.

Despite her skepticism of the strange Guru Pax and his belief in the supernatural world, Hannah soon finds healing through all the yoga, sound baths, and hot springs offered at the tech-free haven. But this peaceful journey of self-discovery quickly descends into a violent fight for self-preservation when a mysterious killer starts picking off retreat attendees in increasingly gruesome ways. As the body count rises and Hannah’s sanity frays, she’ll have to confront her dark past and uncover the true nature of a ruthless monster hellbent on killing her vibe for good.

Add to Goodreads

 

If you're a fan of slashers, unreliable narrators, and the kind of mystery that keeps you second-guessing —Breathe IN, Bleed Out is a wickedly fun ride. Brian McNulty delivers a fast-paced, genre-savvy novel that’s as much a love letter to horror tropes as it is a clever psychological mystery.

This book throws you into a world that feels like it was born out of a late-night horror movie marathon of Friday the 13th. You’ve got the tension between characters, the looming sense that someone (maybe everyone?) is hiding something, and the unreliability of the main character who is already seeing the ghost of her dead fiancé. 

The isolated setting adds so much creeping dread and the growing paranoia builds until you are yelling "The killer is right behind you!". Mix that with a little bit of gritty angst and dark humor. McNulty really leans into the “whodunit” energy while still delivering all the bloody, campy, adrenaline-pumping thrills you expect from a slasher. 

If you’re a fan of books that keep you guessing and characters who keep you suspicious, Breathe IN, Bleed Out is well worth your time. What really sets this apart from your typical slasher is the way it messes with your head. It’s a bloody good time — in every sense.

Published April 15, 2025 by Quill & Crow Publishing House

Carve the bones. One for the gate, one for the door, two for the mantel, and three for the floor… Hyacinth Turning knows the terrors beyond her village, the insatiable hunger of the Teeth. She listens to the sermons given by the Elders in their hare-skin masks. She watches as the heathens hang and the witches burn. They tell her to be good and quiet. But Hyacinth is neither good nor quiet. After a series of tragic events, Hyacinth finds herself hastily wedded and sent far away from all she has ever known to a settlement at the edge of the sea. Where more than just the Teeth are hungry. Another horror swims below, leviathan shadows kept at bay by offerings of flesh and bone.

But no sooner does Hyacinth take root in her new home do the Teeth and the Deep come to feed. Suspicion soon falls upon the outspoken Hyacinth, who spends more time with the outcasted Morgan Carroway than her own husband. The Elders want her burned, her husband wants her hanged, and a long-lost love claws at her dreams, but Hyacinth only wants one thing. A life and death of her choosing.

Add to Goodreads

   

Hyacinth Turning is sent away to a remote village near the forest and sea, where ancient horrors like the Teeth and the Deep are kept at bay through sacrifices. She’s reeling from personal tragedy, isolated in a new marriage to a man she doesn't like, and immediately flung into a new claustrophobic community ruled by folklore, fear, and blood rituals...exactly like the one she left. She’s not just unwelcome, she’s disposable. Her body, her grief, and her silence are all things to be used, suppressed, or sacrificed for the “greater good.”

Hyacinth is constantly acted upon rather than acting. She’s shipped off, married off, silenced, accused, watched, threatened… and she endures all of it, often with the emotional affect of a ghost—just a resigned shuffle through escalating misery. She’s worn down by it until she’s just absorbed into the horror. I'm sure that's the point but it doesn’t make for satisfying character development. It makes for bleak existential rot. No sharp turns. No big “aha” moment. Just damp misery, sprinkled with vague dread.

Folk horror ofttimes tries to fake the ancient, the ritualistic, the uncanny, but The Bone Drenched Woods feels authentic. The bone offerings, the hare-masked Elders, the silent submission to the Deep? It all feels like it could have grown out of some obscure corner of real folklore. It’s primal and unnerving.

L.V. Russell absolutely nails that oppressive, damp, rot-soaked feeling of being somewhere ancient and uncaring. This book is all aesthetic. The prose is undeniably pretty, damp and bloody and yet frustratingly vague. Atmosphere can only carry you so far when the plot is doing the slowest, saddest shuffle toward nowhere. If you enjoy slow-burn folk horror where nothing is explained, and everyone is miserable, this one is for you.

Published October 28, 2025 by Thomas & Mercer
 

Cutthroat NYC lawyer Mary Whelton just buried her problematic old mentor. But as she leaves the mourners and protesters behind, the press stays hot on her heels. Desperate to escape, she unwittingly barrels deep into a remote forest in upstate New York. Until a collision—with a buzzing, oozing throng of cicadas—stops her dead in her tracks.

She awakens in a crude cabin, held captive by Girl, a simple, hulking woman who mistakes Mary for her derelict mother and obsesses over a mysterious Brood. While tortured echoes from Mary’s past feed her growing sense of fear, it becomes clear that she’s destined to bear an unthinkable role in the cicadas’ cyclical reemergence. But when Girl’s grisly past comes back to haunt them both, Mary is thrust into a violent battle of wills.

Confoundingly creepy and atmospheric, The Brood peels back the hurt and pain of the female experience, laying bare the messy necessity for transformation and growth.

Add to Goodreads

Rebecca Baum is a novelist, ghostwriter, and content marketer. While her ghostwriting has served founders of global nonprofits and mission-driven businesses, Baum wades into the wonderfully troubled waters of horror with her novel The Brood. Her prior book, Lifelike Creatures, was longlisted for the Crook’s Corner Book Prize Foundation’s 2021 best debut novel set in the American South. A native of rural Louisiana, Baum feels she has almost earned the right to call herself a New Yorker after more than twenty-five years in the city. She lives in Greenwich Village with her husband and favorite karaoke partner, Gary. 

Published October 1, 2025 by Falcon Lit

 

A collection of horror-infused novelettes for mature readers who crave the macabre. Within these pages wait twisted tales of possession, ravenous monsters, vengeful demons, and deeply rooted phobias clawing their way to life.

Each story is a separate haunt on Halloween — from modern horrors to ghost-haunted histories, and a bleak future scarred by a deadly plague.

After three years working on writing projects together, Fallon and Lewis debut their first anthology with guest author Rissa Miller; Historian and Seer.

Combining their interests in horror, speculative fiction, and gritty characters, these authors twist dark fiction into reality

Add to Goodreads

Published August 1, 2025 by Savage Realms Press

 

Seeking to understand the recent deaths and disappearances in their town, a disgraced homicide detective and a group of grieving high schoolers unwittingly join forces. But what this ragtag bunch of answer-seekers find will not only force them into a fight to save themselves and their town, but all of humanity as we know it... Welcome to Cedar Mills.

Add to Goodreads

Dylan James is the author of a dozen plus short stories and poetry publications, appearing in Horror Tree’s Trembling With Fear, Moria Literary Magazine, and more. 

His nonfiction novel BROTHERS peaked at #3 on Barnes & Noble’s History Bestsellers.

His horror fiction novel CEDAR MILLS is set to be published in 2025 by Savage Realms Press.

Published February 13th 2024 by Tor Nightfire

The follow-up to T. Kingfisher’s bestselling gothic novella, What Moves the Dead .

Retired soldier Alex Easton returns in a horrifying new adventure.

After their terrifying ordeal at the Usher manor, Alex Easton feels as if they just survived another war. All they crave is rest, routine, and sunshine, but instead, as a favor to Angus and Miss Potter, they find themself heading to their family hunting lodge, deep in the cold, damp forests of their home country, Gallacia.

In theory, one can find relaxation in even the coldest and dampest of Gallacian autumns, but when Easton arrives, they find the caretaker dead, the lodge in disarray, and the grounds troubled by a strange, uncanny silence. The villagers whisper that a breath-stealing monster from folklore has taken up residence in Easton’s home. Easton knows better than to put too much stock in local superstitions, but they can tell that something is not quite right in their home. . . or in their dreams.

Add to Goodreads

 

T. Kingfisher returns to the eerie world of gothic horror with What Feasts at Night, the second novella in her Sworn Soldier series following the acclaimed What Moves the Dead. This novella once again follows Alex Easton, a gender non-binary former soldier with a dry sense of humor, a haunted past, and a knack for running into things that go bump in the night.

This time, Easton heads to their family's old hunting lodge in Gallacia in search of some rest. Naturally,  rest is the one thing they don’t get. The lodge is falling apart, the caretaker has died under bizarre circumstances, and the quiet feels wrong. The longer they stay, the more the atmosphere closes in: disturbing dreams, strange local legends, and plenty of superstition. Familiar faces return, including the ever-delightful Miss Potter, a no-nonsense mycologist who continues to steal every scene with her fungal fanaticism. New faces charm as well, like the sharp-eyed Widow Botezatu with her baleful looks and no-nonsense ways.

While What Feasts at Night trades some of the first book’s energy for a slower, more reflective pace, it still delivers plenty of dread. The horror here is quieter, more psychological, and steeped in folklore and PTSD. Kingfisher’s uniquely dry humor is still present, with sharp, witty banter and Easton's internal dialogue. Easton’s internal battle adds emotional depth to the creeping horror, and the camaraderie between characters brings just enough warmth to offset the gloom. 

While it’s not as fast-paced as What Moves the Dead, What Feasts at Night is haunting in its own way: moody, thoughtful, and quietly chilling. It’s another strong entry in Kingfisher’s growing collection of uniquely strange horror stories.

Published June 10, 2025 by Rowan Prose Publishing, LLC;  

Sapphire Imprint
 

To believe in that other world, she must first learn to believe in herself.

The signs were always there.

The footsteps.

The cries.

The melancholy music from a faraway place.

Though Melissa Roberts lives alone, she chooses not to believe in superstitions. Locked in the rational prison of her closed imagination, she must open her mind and soul to that other place before it’s too late.

For the voices are rising.

The footsteps draw closer.

Until the music is deafening.

She must prepare herself. She must become the Straw Girl. They are coming for her.

Fans of "The Invited" by Jennifer McMahon, "The Ghost of Slackwood House" by J.T. Westbrook, and Susanna Kearsley’s "The Shadowy Horses" will enjoy Straw Girl.

Add to Goodreads

Brigid Barry is a lifelong resident of Maine. A disabled Air Force veteran and blessed parent of twins, she lives on a small hobby farm with her favorite husband and too many animals. "Straw Girl" is her debut book.

www.brigidbarry.carrd.co

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 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. 

Published May 2, 2023 by Tor Nightfire

From USA Today bestselling author Cassandra Khaw comes The Salt Grows Heavy, a razor-sharp and bewitching fairytale of discovering the darkness in the world, and the darkness within oneself.

You may think you know how the fairytale goes: a mermaid comes to shore and weds the prince. But what the fables forget is that mermaids have teeth. And now, her daughters have devoured the kingdom and burned it to ashes.

On the run, the mermaid is joined by a mysterious plague doctor with a darkness of their own. Deep in the eerie, snow-crusted forest, the pair stumble upon a village of ageless children who thirst for blood, and the three 'saints' who control them.

The mermaid and her doctor must embrace the cruelest parts of their true nature if they hope to survive.

Add to Goodreads

 Cassandra Khaw’s The Salt Grows Heavy is a grim, lyrical horror-fantasy that begins with the mermaid's children having just eaten her prince. Albeit, he wasn't a very nice one. Khaw takes the familiar mermaid myth and completely capsizes it, crafting a story that’s brutal, surreal, and, beneath all the blood and bone, surprisingly tender. It's a novella that defies clear classification — a hybrid of gothic fairy tale, body horror, and lushly poetic prose. 

The story kicks off with the merchildren eating their way through the kingdom. Striking a weird companionship are the murderous mermaid and a plague doctor. She’s a predator, archaic and uncaring, but also deeply introspective. (Of course, she'd have to be since her husband recently cut out her tongue.) The peculiar plague doctor is enigmatic yet witty. The two strike up a friendship and almost coy flirtation.

I've said before that Khaw's writing is not for everyone. It's dense, with each morsel needing to be chewed carefully before being consumed. It’s the kind of language that turns violence into poetry and transforms body horror into something oddly exquisite.  It’s brutal and beautiful, grotesque and captivating. For readers who enjoy language that leans into the stylized and surreal, it’s an enjoyable experience. For many others, it may be a barrier to reading any of Khaw's writing. 

The tone is relentlessly grim, but not without a strange, dry humor that punctuates the story in unexpected places. It’s perfect for readers who enjoy weird literary horror, mythic storytelling, and moral ambiguity. It’s about monsters but also transformation, and what it means to survive when the world sees you as a thing to be used or controlled. This isn't a fairy tale. It's what crawls out of the sea foam after the supposed "happily ever after" is over.

Just like Khaw's expansive writing, The Salt Grows Heavy is not for everyone. If you’re looking for a tightly plotted story with clear moral lines and conventional structure, this probably won’t be your thing. It’s strange. It’s lyrical. It’s emotional. It’s a novella that doesn’t explain itself — it just pulls you under the waves and waits for you to drown.

Published March 25, 2025 by Poisoned Pen Press

"I'm in your blood, and you are in mine…"

The Netherlands, 1887. Lucy's twin sister Sarah is unwell. She refuses to eat, mumbles nonsensically, and is increasingly obsessed with a centuries-old corpse recently discovered on her husband's grand estate. The doctor has diagnosed her with temporary insanity caused by a fever of the brain. To protect her twin from a terrible fate in a lunatic asylum, Lucy must unravel the mystery surrounding her sister's condition, but it's clear her twin is hiding something. Then again, Lucy is harboring secrets of her own, too.

Then, the worst happens. Sarah's behavior takes a turn for the strange. She becomes angry… and hungry. 

Lucy soon comes to suspect that something is trying to possess her beloved sister. Or is it madness? As Sarah changes before her very eyes, Lucy must reckon with the dark, monstrous truth, or risk losing her forever.

Add to Goodreads

 

Set in 1887 Netherlands, Blood on Her Tongue follows Lucy as she returns to her family's estate to care for her twin sister, Sarah, who has become ill and dangerously fixated on a bizarre body unearthed in the bog near their home. As Sarah's behavior grows increasingly erratic, Lucy must confront the possibility that something far more sinister than madness is at play.

As is true with gothic fiction, the atmosphere reigns supreme. The author builds a haunting, claustrophobic setting that perfectly complements the story’s tension. The house feels cold and suffocating, the nearby bog is basically a character itself, and there’s this constant dread hanging over everything. Sarah's transformation is both disturbing and magnetic, drawing readers into a world where the line between the natural and the supernatural blurs. Her peculiar behavior and condition are filled with uncertainty and mystery.

 
Lucy is a great narrator, determined to make sense of her sister's decline. The bond between the twins is the heart of the story, but it’s twisted and uncomfortable in a way that totally works for gothic fiction. It's complicated, painful, and achingly human.  You’re never quite sure what’s real or what’s supernatural, which helps the creeping unease. As with a lot of gothic fiction, it’s a slow burn. There’s more moodiness and creeping unease than plot devices, but the payoff is worth it if you hang in there.

If you like your horror quiet, slow, and full of creeping dread, Blood on Her Tongue might be right up your alley. This book is all about mood—foggy landscapes, crumbling family homes, and the kind of tension that feels both tender and terrifying.

Published June 7, 2024 by Wicked House Publishing

Whitt Rogers has been dreaming.

Horrible dreams.

Dreams that stretch the very fabric of the real and the unreal as he is pulled by a voice across the country to a small crab fishing ship set to depart into the Bering Sea. At sea, the memories piece themselves together in cracked fragments. But there is something out there. Something speaking to Whitt in his dreams. A voice from a long-forgotten memory that promises peace at the cost of madness. A voice that leads to a place unimaginable and inescapable

Add to Goodreads

A Dark and Endless Sea is a quiet, introspective horror novel that leans heavily into grief, memory, and isolation. Blaine Daigle clearly has a talent for atmospheric writing—his prose is thoughtful and often poetic, creating a somber tone that lingers throughout the book.

The story centers on Whitt, who has woken with no memory of what came before this moment.  He's plagued by nightmares of a flooded town and floating dead bodies. He's directed to a crabbing boat in small-town Alaska. There’s a lot to admire in how Daigle explores the fragility of human connection while in isolation.  The emotional realism is the book’s strongest point. There are a lot of dream sequences, compounding Whitt as an unreliable narrator, and leaving the reader with a sense of surrealism.

That said, the pacing is slow—very slow. While some readers may appreciate the quiet build, I found myself wanting more payoff and a clearer sense of stakes. It’s a story that flirts heavily with dread, but the ending just didn't deliver in a satisfying way.

I loved The Broken Places, but this one just wasn't for me.

Published October 15, 2024 by Titan Books

A grieving mother and son hope to survive Christmas in a remote mountain cabin, in this chilling novella of dread, isolation and demons lurking in the frozen woods. Perfect for fans of The Only Good Indians, The Shining and The Babadook.

Two weeks ago, Christine Sinclaire's husband slipped off the roof while hanging Christmas lights and fell to his death on the front lawn. Desperate to escape her guilt and her grief, Christine packs up her fifteen-year-old son and the family cat and flees to the cabin they'd reserved deep in the remote Pennsylvania Wilds to wait out the holidays.

It isn't long before Christine begins to hear strange noises coming from the forest. When she spots a horned figure watching from between frozen branches, Christine assumes it's just a forest animal—a moose, maybe, since the property manager warned her about them, said they'd stomp a body so deep into the snow nobody'd find it 'til spring. But moose don't walk upright like the shadowy figure does. They don't call Christine's name with her dead husband's voice.

A haunting examination of the horrors of grief and the hunger of guilt, perfect for readers of Stephen King, Christina Henry, and Chuck Wendig.

Add to Goodreads

 

I went into Cold Snap expecting a chilling, atmospheric horror story with strong emotional distress — and for the first little bit, that’s what it seemed to be. Set against the icy backdrop of a small Appalachian town, the setup is familiar but effective: people with emotional baggage retreat to a remote cabin in the woods, and weird things begin to happen. To quote Dora the Explorer: "¡Vámonos!"

Unfortunately, what begin as isolation horror deeply embedded with grief (the husband died hanging Christmas lights), the story quickly took a turn into surreal territory, and I found myself more confused than captivated. Her dead husband is talking to her, or is it the moose, and events start to feel disjointed — almost dreamlike, but not in a way that ever fully clicks.

What really pulled me out of the story, though, was the cat death — which is not only graphic and disturbing but referenced multiple times throughout the book. I understand horror can be visceral and I don't shy from gore, but the way this was handled felt excessive and deeply unpleasant. And the only person traumatized by it was the kid! Mom was just like "Darn, the cat got stomped to death in the snow by a maybe-moose". If animal harm is a deal-breaker for you, I strongly recommend skipping this one.

There are interesting ideas here — grief, guilt, isolation — but they get buried under so much weirdness and emotional chaos that they never fully land. Cold Snap might resonate with readers who enjoy abstract, metaphor-heavy horror, but for me, it was more frustrating than frightening.  I kept waiting for it all to come together or for the deeper meaning to reveal itself, but by the end, I was wondering WTH just happened.

Having loved Bless Your Heart and Throw Me to The Wolves, I was excited to venture into this one, but it missed its mark with me. 

Published  June 25, 2024 by Del Rey

A chilling horror novel about a haunting told from the perspective of a young girl whose troubled family is targeted by an entity she calls “Other Mommy,” from the New York Times bestselling author of Bird Box

 

To eight-year-old Bela, her family is her world. There’s Mommy, Daddo, and Grandma Ruth. But there is also Other Mommy, a malevolent entity who asks her every day: “Can I go inside your heart?”  

 

When horrifying incidents around the house signal that Other Mommy is growing tired of asking Bela the same question, over and over . . . Bela understands that unless she says yes, soon her family must pay. 

 

Other Mommy is getting restless, stronger, bolder. Only the bonds of family can keep Bela safe but other incidents show cracks in her parents' marriage. The safety Bela relies on is on the brink of unraveling.  

 

But Other Mommy needs an answer. 

 

Incidents Around the House is a chilling, wholly unique tale of true horror told by the child Bela. A story about a family as haunted as their home.

Add to Goodreads

 

Josh Malerman’s Incidents Around the House is a haunting, tightly-wound domestic horror story told entirely through the lens of a child’s eyes. With its eerie tone, it’s a novel that creeps under your skin slowly, but steadily.

The story centers on Bela, an eight-year-old girl who begins seeing an invisible presence she calls “Other Mommy.” At first, it’s easy for her parents to chalk this up to normal childhood fantasy. After all, many children have imaginary friends, until “Other Mommy” becomes more persistent—and more terrifying.  Every day, the entity asks Bela the same chilling question: “Can I go inside your heart?” The tension builds from that single line, as we begin to understand that what’s happening to Bela may be far more than imaginary.

What makes this novel so unsettling is its perspective. Malerman’s choice to stick closely to eight-year-old Bela’s point of view gives the book a disorienting quality. It’s a bold narrative style that won’t work for everyone, but for Malerman, it serves the story’s creeping dread incredibly well. I picked this one up in audiobook as well, and let me tell you, Delanie Nicole Gill gives life to Bela in the creepiest way.

This is less of a jump-scare horror novel and more of a slow horrific boil. The horror grows not from gore or violence, but from emotional unease and the erosion of safety in the home. You know it's only a matter of time until it spills over, but you can't look away. 

Some readers may find the repetition or ambiguity frustrating—particularly if they prefer clean answers or fast-paced horror—but for those who appreciate character-driven, atmospheric terror, Incidents Around the House delivers. Malerman crafts a tale that is both terrifying and poignant, leaving readers to ponder the true nature of the horrors that lurk within our homes and hearts.

Published July 9, 2024 by Tor Nightfire

Misha is a jaded scriptwriter who has been working in Hollywood for years, and has just been nominated for his first Oscar. But when he's pressured by his producers to kill off a gay character in the upcoming season finale―"for the algorithm"―Misha discovers that it's not that simple.

As he is haunted by his past, and past mistakes, Misha must risk everything to find a way to do what's right―before it's too late.

Add to Goodreads

  

Chuck Tingle has delivered a horror novel that’s weird and surprisingly heartfelt. Bury Your Gays is a wild ride through Hollywood, queer trauma, and the horror of being told your story isn’t marketable unless it ends in tragedy. This book is part surreal nightmare, part heartfelt unpacking of queer trauma, and part roast of an industry that loves queer suffering as long as it’s profitable. It’s weird, raw, and a little chaotic—but it knows it’s chaotic, which makes it work.

The story follows Misha Byrne, a queer screenwriter finally getting his big break, nominated for an Oscar. But just as things are looking up, the studio demands he kill off his queer characters “for the algorithm.” Misha refuses—and suddenly, reality starts to bend. Literal monsters show up, old traumas resurface, and Hollywood’s shiny surface reveals some very real rot underneath.

Misha is a fully fleshed-out protagonist: vulnerable, angry, exhausted, and desperately clinging to his sense of self while the industry chews him up. Misha’s emotional journey, especially flashbacks to his rough childhood and complicated present, is heavy, honest, and really well done. His relationship with boyfriend Zeke is sweet, offering warmth and grounding that somehow doesn’t come off cheesy (okay, maybe a little cheesy, but we’re rooting for them anyway).

Tingle throws every flavor of horror into the mix as Misha's own scripts come to life—cosmic dread, slasher gore, eldritch horrors, and some wild body horror—and somehow it all holds together. Is it weird? Absolutely. Is it fun? Most definitely. The result is chaotic, but deliberately so. It’s a mess with meaning. Underneath all the madness is some genuinely powerful insights about identity and how queer people are treated by the media machine. 

“I call on all of you to usher in a new era of stories where the gay, or bi, or lesbian, or asexual, or pansexual, or trans character lives happily ever after. Buy those stories. Make those stories profitable.”