Horror Writers Discuss the Scariest Narratives They've Ever Experienced
A Renowned Horror Author
A Chilling Tale from Shirley Jackson
I read this tale some time back and it has lingered with me from that moment. The named seasonal visitors are a family from New York, who rent an identical off-grid country cottage every summer. On this occasion, instead of going back to urban life, they opt to extend their vacation for a month longer – something that seems to disturb everyone in the nearby town. Everyone conveys the same veiled caution that nobody has remained by the water beyond the end of summer. Even so, the couple are determined to stay, and at that point things start to get increasingly weird. The person who delivers oil won’t sell to the couple. Nobody agrees to bring supplies to the cottage, and as they try to travel to the community, the car refuses to operate. A tempest builds, the energy in the radio diminish, and as darkness falls, “the two old people clung to each other inside their cabin and anticipated”. What are this couple waiting for? What could the townspeople know? Whenever I revisit Jackson’s unnerving and influential tale, I recall that the best horror stems from the unspoken.
Mariana Enríquez
An Eerie Story by Robert Aickman
In this brief tale a couple go to a typical coastal village where church bells toll the whole time, a perpetual pealing that is annoying and puzzling. The first extremely terrifying scene takes place during the evening, when they opt to take a walk and they can’t find the water. The beach is there, the scent exists of putrid marine life and brine, waves crash, but the sea is a ghost, or another thing and more dreadful. It is truly insanely sinister and whenever I go to a beach at night I remember this narrative which spoiled the beach in the evening for me – favorably.
The young couple – she’s very young, the man is mature – go back to their lodging and discover the reason for the chiming, in a long sequence of confinement, macabre revelry and death-and-the-maiden encounters dance of death pandemonium. It’s a chilling meditation regarding craving and decline, a pair of individuals maturing in tandem as spouses, the attachment and brutality and gentleness within wedlock.
Not merely the most frightening, but probably a top example of brief tales in existence, and a beloved choice. I encountered it in Spanish, in the debut release of these tales to appear locally several years back.
Catriona Ward
A Dark Novel by an esteemed writer
I perused this narrative beside the swimming area in the French countryside a few years ago. Although it was sunny I experienced an icy feeling within me. I also felt the thrill of fascination. I was working on a new project, and I faced a block. I didn’t know whether there existed any good way to craft various frightening aspects the book contains. Reading Zombie, I understood that it could be done.
Released decades ago, the book is a bleak exploration through the mind of a criminal, Quentin P, based on an infamous individual, the murderer who killed and mutilated 17 young men and boys in a city during a specific period. As is well-known, this person was fixated with producing a compliant victim who would never leave him and attempted numerous macabre trials to achieve this.
The acts the novel describes are appalling, but just as scary is its mental realism. Quentin P’s awful, shattered existence is directly described in spare prose, identities hidden. The audience is sunk deep stuck in his mind, compelled to see ideas and deeds that appal. The foreignness of his thinking feels like a physical shock – or finding oneself isolated on a barren alien world. Entering Zombie feels different from reading than a full body experience. You are swallowed whole.
Daisy Johnson
A Haunting Novel from a gifted writer
When I was a child, I sleepwalked and subsequently commenced having night terrors. On one occasion, the terror included a vision in which I was stuck within an enclosure and, when I woke up, I discovered that I had removed a piece off the window, attempting to escape. That house was falling apart; when storms came the downstairs hall flooded, insect eggs dropped from above into the bedroom, and once a big rodent climbed the drapes in that space.
After an acquaintance presented me with the story, I was residing elsewhere with my parents, but the tale of the house perched on the cliffs appeared known in my view, longing as I felt. It is a book featuring a possessed clamorous, emotional house and a young woman who ingests limestone from the shoreline. I loved the story immensely and went back frequently to it, consistently uncovering {something