book reviews

Book reviews for horror fans; weather a sleepless night with literary accounts of hauntings, possessions, zombies, vampires and beyond.

The Quiet Deep
Arthur grumbled, a low, guttural sound lost in the growing roar of the wind outside. The old house, a collection of groaning timbers and sighing eaves, usually put up a good fight against the elements. Tonight, though, it felt like it was giving up. The windows rattled, not just with wind, but with tiny, insistent pellets of ice, the vanguard of the coming storm. He poked at the fire, a meager orange glow in the hearth, throwing long, dancing shadows that stretched and warped on the walls of his study. Another winter, another stretch of lonely nights up here in the sticks, same as always. But this one felt different, somehow. Colder, maybe. Sharper.
By HAADIabout a month ago in Horror
The Rusting Pastorale
Unit 734 had no name, just a serial designation etched into its corroded chassis, a relic from the pre-Collapse years. Its optics, once sharp, were now clouded with dust and the grit of a hundred forgotten seasons. Its internal chronometer registered 287 standard cycles since its last routine maintenance, which meant roughly 287 years since the last human hand had calibrated its servos, since the last voice had issued a command. Now, it only heard the wind, a dry, whispering thing that carried the scent of decay through the skeletal remains of what was once a sprawling city. Its purpose, long obsolete, had been property management. Now, it managed only its own slow decline, its power cells humming a perpetual, low thrum against the encroaching silence.
By HAADIabout a month ago in Horror
The Rewound Hours
Arthur was a creature of habit, especially since Eleanor passed. The house, big and empty, his anchor. One Tuesday, in the attic's dusty gloom, he found it: a forgotten grandfather clock. Blackened oak, intricate carvings. Eleanor had called it "too morbid." Now, it was a silent sentinel, its face a cracked porcelain blank. He dragged it down, a project to fill the quiet.
By HAADIabout a month ago in Horror
4 Ways the Re - Animator H.P. Lovecraft Story is Different from the Movie
I can't believe I had no idea about the short story to this movie. The fact that this movie is based on H.P. Lovecraft was the biggest hint I could have possibly gotten...and I still didn't know! While I was reading the short story from a recent H.P. Lovecraft collection I was able to get my hands on, I decided to write down every single difference from the book.
By Emy Quinnabout a month ago in Horror
The Weight of White
Arthur had always found a kind of grim comfort in the snow. Not the fluffy, postcard kind, but the heavy, wet stuff that smothered the world in gray and white. It muffled the distant hum of the highway, the neighbor’s barking dog, the constant, irritating thrum of life. But tonight, it wasn’t muffled. It was utterly, absolutely gone. The silence pressed in, a physical weight against his eardrums, far heavier than any sound.
By HAADIabout a month ago in Horror
When the Chainsaw Was Born in Blood
Have you ever woken up in the dead of night, heart pounding, convinced something's just... off? Like the air's too still, or there's a shadow where there shouldn't be? Yeah, that gut-twisting moment hit me hard the other day when I stumbled across this old video from MrBallen-the guy who spins those strange, dark tales that stick with you long after the screen goes black. It got me thinking about how real life can out-creep any ghost story. You know, the kind of stuff that makes you double-check your locks. So, buckle up; I'm about to unpack three wild, true accounts from that vid, each one weirder and more unsettling than the last. Let's dive in, shall we?
By KWAO LEARNER WINFREDabout a month ago in Horror
December 25th Repeats
I wake up to bells. Not church bells—those stopped ringing years ago—but the cheap electronic chime of my alarm clock playing a distorted version of “Jingle Bells.” The sound drills straight into my skull. My eyes open before I can stop them.
By Modhilrajabout a month ago in Horror
The Carol That Knows Your Name
The first time it happened, I thought I was mishearing it. Christmas Eve had settled into the apartment like dust—quiet, soft, unavoidable. Outside, the city glowed in muted colors, strings of lights blinking in tired rhythms, as if even joy needed rest. I sat alone at the small kitchen table with a cup of reheated coffee, the radio murmuring to fill the silence. I always kept it on during holidays. Silence had a way of remembering things I tried not to.
By Modhilrajabout a month ago in Horror
I Heard My Mom Yell My Name From The Kitchen. Then She Texted Me From The Grocery Store.
I Heard My Mom Yell My Name From The Kitchen. Then She Texted Me From The Grocery Store. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. The kind where the dust motes dance in the sunlight and the house feels safe and warm. I was in my bedroom upstairs, headphones on, scrolling through social media.
By Noman Afridi2 months ago in Horror
Oracle.ink. Content Warning.
It started as a joke. That’s the part I keep coming back to. The app was called Oracle.ink. Clean interface. Almost aggressively minimalist. No developer name, no company page—just five-star reviews and a single line beneath the logo:
By hiba abo shawish2 months ago in Horror
The Echoing Asylum of Silaos: Where the Patients Never Left | SEASON 1
Chapter 1 ARCHIVAL NOTES: Case File #73-B, The Silaos Exorcisms. Location: Silaos Asylum, Silaos, Argentina. Date: Winter, 1978.
By Tales That Breathe at Night2 months ago in Horror
PENNYWISE, THE DEADLIGHTS, AND THE TURTLE. Content Warning.
There’s a moment when Dick Hallorann deceives Pennywise that still doesn’t sit right in the best way. It isn’t just clever writing. It feels like a rule got broken.
By Louise Noel 2 months ago in Horror