The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

In horror movies, the final girl is the one who's left standing when the credits roll. The one who fought back, defeated the killer, and avenged her friends. The one who emerges bloodied but victorious. But after the sirens fade and the audience moves on, what happens to her?

Lynette Tarkington is a real-life final girl who survived a massacre twenty-two years ago, and it has defined every day of her life since. And she's not alone. For more than a decade she's been meeting with five other actual final girls and their therapists in a support group for those who survived the unthinkable, putting their lives back together, piece by piece. That is until one of the women misses a meeting and Lynette's worst fears are realized—someone knows about the group and is determined to take their lives apart, piece by piece. 

But the thing about these final girls is that they have each other now, and no matter how bad the odds, how dark the night, how sharp the knife, they will never, ever give up. 

The very first movie I remember seeing in a theater was Dawn of the Dead. My mom loved it, so when it was rereleased years later, she took me along. I saw Creepshow at the drive-in, but had to turn around and watch The Sword in the Stone on another screen during one particular scene that will remain unspoken.

I grew up on horror: Children of the Corn, Friday the 13th, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween. These weren’t just movies, they were lessons in survival, in what it means to be the one who makes it out. One of the first movies I saw on my own was Bad Dreams, and that giant fan scene has lived rent-free in my brain ever since, a moment I still haven’t quite shaken.

I’m laying all of this out so you understand exactly where I’m coming from. I loved The Final Girl Support Group.

This book reads like the twisted sequel to every slasher I’ve ever seen — not the movies themselves, but what happens after the credits roll. The five women at its center survived everything the genre throws at you: summer camp massacres, sorority house bloodbaths, a home invasion that wiped out an entire family, miles of road turned into a moving nightmare. And then there’s Lynette — the book’s version of Laurie Strode — a woman shaped by a killer who tore through her town and left her to live in the aftermath. If you’ve seen the recent Halloween trilogy, you already understand what that kind of survival does to a person.

In the wrong hands, this could have been a straightforward slasher novel, something predictable, something easy to put down. In the hands of Grady Hendrix, it becomes something sharper and more deliberate. He shifts the focus from the violence itself to what lingers after it, memory, damage, and the way the past refuses to stay buried.

Because if horror teaches you anything, it’s that the past is never really dead.

Challenges: Cloak and Dagger 

What Feasts at Night by T. Kingfisher

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

After the 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 themselves 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 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 something is not quite right in their home...or in their dreams. 

Let me tell you a story, and if it gets too long, you can skip it. Promise. One of the few places my mom stopped long enough, as we moved more times than I can count — pre-carnival years — was Salem, OR. We lived there for at least a full year before moving further north, but that’s not the story. The house we lived in is.

It was a yellowish beige house on the corner of State St. and some random street I don’t remember the name of. It dead-ended at a railroad track, if that helps anyone place it. Salem wasn’t the safest area to live in the mid-1980s, and our neighborhood was pretty rough… but that’s not really the point.

This little, unassuming house was odd from the start. I had never sleepwalked before, but I started within the first week of living there. The attic opened into the garage, and if you threw a rock up there, it came back down a few minutes later. My mom kept our dog in the garage — not the attic — and it would go absolutely insane, barking up at the attic like its soul was in jeopardy.

One night, some kids from the neighborhood were spending the night, camped out in the living room, when we all heard what sounded like a power saw starting up in the attic. There wasn’t a kid there who didn’t bolt for home. Then there’s the time I watched a crutch travel across a wall in my mom’s bedroom. That one stuck with me.

Needless to say, my mom did a little digging, and while I won’t go into the details, that house had every right to be haunted.

I’m not here to convince you that ghosts are real or that haunted houses exist. I’m just telling you all of that so you understand why I love haunted house stories as much as I do. You’d think an experience like that would’ve sent me running in the opposite direction, but it did the exact opposite. I can’t get enough of them — especially when they lean more Gothic, like What Feasts at Night by T. Kingfisher.

When I realized the sequel to What Moves the Dead was set in a haunted hunting lodge, I was basically screaming in delight like a six-year-old at a My Little Pony birthday party.

I loved What Moves the Dead so much that, despite all that excitement, I was a little hesitant going into this one. I was worried a second outing with Alex — which still somehow doesn’t involve us sitting down for tea — wouldn’t live up to my probably overinflated expectations.

Thankfully, Kingfisher didn’t let me down. I enjoyed the hell out of this.

I tore through this in one sitting, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get under my skin a little. There’s a slow, suffocating dread here that just keeps building until you realize you’ve been holding your breath right along with Alex. That dread comes through most in how the haunting itself plays out.

The way she crafts this haunting genuinely got under my skin. Alex is attacked by a vengeful spirit that literally steals their breath as they sleep, slowly wearing down their already fever-racked body. And as if that isn’t bad enough, they’re trapped in a nightmarish dreamscape that forces them to relive the worst atrocities they experienced during the war — along with all the guilt and regret that comes with it. To fight back, Alex has to work through those memories head-on instead of avoiding them, which makes this feel more personal.

Maybe that’s why this worked so well for me. That house in Salem never really left me — that feeling that something is there, just out of sight, but very real. This book taps into that same kind of quiet, creeping dread.

Some haunted houses try to scare you.

This one feels a little too much like home.

The Taking of Jake Livingston by Ryan Douglass

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

Living in two worlds is exhausting, and no one knows this better than sixteen-year-old Jake Livingston. His working-class, diverse neighborhood is a far cry from the world of St. Clair Prep where he is one of the only Black students, constantly at the mercy of racist teachers and peers who don't understand him. But when his neighbor—a survivor of a grisly school shooting—is murdered and the bloody initials of the now-dead shooter, Sawyer Doom, are left on the entryway wall of Jake's home. Jake is forced to confront another world he wishes he could escape—the world of the dead.

As a medium, Jake sees ghosts around him all the time. Most are harmless. Stuck in their death loops as they relive their deaths over and over again, they rarely interact with people. And while for most of his life Jake has avoided them, this time there is no running away. Sawyer was a troubled teen who shot and killed six kids at a local high school before taking his own life. Now he's a powerful, vengeful ghost, and he has plans for his afterlife—plans thay include Jake. When Sawyer begins stalking him, high school becomes a different kind of survival game—one Jake is not sure he can win. 

I’ve hemmed and hawed for far longer than I should have — I’m talking months — over how I wanted to start this review. Even now, as I’m typing, I feel like someone flipping through every streaming app they own, unable to settle on something to watch. I guess I’m just going to start typing and see what comes out. If I need to clean it up later, I will. It’s not like y’all will be able to tell the difference.

I absolutely love this book and think everyone who is even a little into YA should read it — if you’re comfortable with the themes it explores. The Taking of Jake Livingston ventures into very dark territory, and I’m not exaggerating when I say certain aspects of the narrative have stayed with me far longer than usual. That lingering weight is part of the reason I’ve had such a damned hard time writing this review. I think it’s impossible to talk about this book without discussing the gut punch that is Sawyer Doom, so I hope you’ll stick with me.

When I reviewed Come Knocking by Mike Bockoven, I discussed how the author had to strike a balance between showing us why the killer felt justified in doing something so barbaric and horrifying, without actually excusing or agreeing with him. That same balance had to be struck in The Taking of Jake Livingston by Ryan Douglass, and I think he handled it brilliantly — though perhaps with a bit more detail than I was expecting.

Instead of giving us a “manifesto” at the end of the book, Douglass lets us into Sawyer’s head throughout the story, as he relives the relentless abuse and bullying he endured for years. Those sections are not comfortable to read. I felt for this young man — no one should have to live through what he did. I can’t imagine the pain and anger that must have flowed through that boy’s veins. Where Douglass surpasses Bockoven, in my opinion, is that by allowing us into Sawyer’s head — the head of an evil, vengeful ghost — he removes any ambiguity. Whatever sympathy we might begin with hardens into horror and hatred as Sawyer torments Jake. Douglass does not shy away from making him as hate-filled and monstrous as any character I’ve read in a long time. By the end of this book, you will loathe Sawyer as much as you adore Jake.

I dare anyone to read this novel and not take an instant liking to Jake. He faces his own bullying, and while it makes him withdrawn and awkward at times, he never turns that pain outward onto others. He’s too busy trying to survive his day-to-day life. How anyone could cope with that — on top of the ability to see dead people — is beyond me. The inner strength that would require is admirable, and I’m not sure I could handle it half as well as Jake does.

Though he’s forced to confront Sawyer, Jake — with the emotional support of his family and friends, including a possible new boyfriend — faces it head-on. He doesn’t come out unscathed, but he may have just found a new version of himself in the process.

At its heart, this is a story built on contrast — two young men faced with unimaginable pain. Both are bullied. Both are isolated. Both are shaped by cruelty. But only one chooses to rise above it. Only one chooses to protect rather than harm.

And it’s in that contrast that this story has stayed with me, lingering far longer than I ever expected.

Favorite Fictional Character --- Herman and Lily Munster

 

There is something rather wholesome—and timely—about a family who looks and acts differently than anyone else around them, yet still considers themselves the perfect American family. The notion that a family doesn’t need to look like yours in order to have value should be the norm, and for the couple who head the Munster family, it absolutely is.

Sadly, for their neighbors, those differences stand out—something that feels all too familiar given the state of things right now. But that’s another post. This one is about celebrating Herman and Lily Munster in all their romantic perfection.

First of all, I have to congratulate Herman and Lily Munster for being married for 161 years. That level of commitment is something I can only dream of. I admire and respect a couple who willingly put in the work to make such a long-term relationship not only function, but truly thrive. It’s impossible to be around them and not see the utter joy and comfort they find in one another.

Herman, who happens to work at a funeral home of all places, lives for his family, and it shows—not only in every look and touch, but in the way he strives to give them the best possible life. Lily is the heart and soul of their family. She runs the home—and her husband, to a degree. Together, they are everything any of us could imagine a true partnership being.

I wish them another 161 happy years together.

Theme Music by T. Marie Vandelly

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket: 

For the lucky among us, life is what you make of it, but for Dixie Wheeler, the theme music for her story was chosen by another long ago, on the day her father butchered her mother and brothers and then slashed a knife across his own throat. Only one-year-old Dixie was left alive, infamously known as Baby Blue for the song left playing in the aftermath of the slaughter.

Twenty-five years later, Dixie is still desperate for a connection to the family she can’t remember, so when her childhood home goes up for sale, Dixie sets aside all reason and moves in. But as the ghosts of her family seemingly begin to take up residence in the home that was once theirs, Dixie starts to question her own sanity and wonders if the evil force menacing her is that of her father, or a demon of her own making.

In order to make sense of her present, Dixie becomes determined to unravel the truth of her past and seeks out the detective who originally investigated the murders. But the more she learns, the more she opens up the uncomfortable possibility that the sins of her father may belong to another. As bodies begin to pile up around her, Dixie must find a way to expose the lunacy behind her family’s massacre in order to save her few loved ones who are still alive—and whatever scrap of sanity she has left. 

How could anyone read that synopsis and not want to dive right in? Granted, it’s one of those synopses that might be just a tad long, but no matter how many times I read it, I can’t decide which lines I would cut. It’s a synopsis designed to make you want to read the book — and read it I did.

Dixie is one of those characters who, no matter how much she annoyed me at times, I still found myself caring for. I think it’s fair to say she makes horrible decisions. I mean, who moves into the house where their family was slaughtered? Well, Trevor did it in Drawing Blood by Poppy Z. Brite, one of my favorite books of all time — but that’s literally another story, so pretend I didn’t say anything about it. Dixie not only moves into this house, she ends her relationship to do it, and then starts decorating the house to make it look the way it did when her family was butchered. I think sanity is the least of her worries.

Dixie’s descent into an almost fugue-like state of madness is so gorgeously written that at no point was I able to look away or pretend that what I was reading was anything other than the story of a woman slowly coming apart, obsessing over her family’s horrific deaths. She was so lost in the minutiae of what happened that she — like me — didn’t really see the truth before it slammed into her face. I can only hope that now that she’s discovered the truth and faced it head-on, she’ll truly heal and be able to put the past, and her family, behind her.

What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

When Alex Easton, a retired soldier, receives word that their childhood friend Madeline Usher is dying, they race to the ancestral home of the Ushers in the remote countryside of Ruritania.

What they find there is a nightmare of fungal growths and possessed wildlife, surrounding a dark, pulsing lake. Madeline sleepwalks and speaks in strange voices at night, and her brother, Roderick, is consumed by a mysterious malady of the nerves. 

Aided by a redoubtable British mycologist and a baffled American doctor, Alex must unravel the secret of the House of Usher before it consumes them all. 

Apparently, despite my intentions to read more of the bazillion unread stories that have been languishing on my shelves, some for years, I’ve been more inclined to pick up old favorites. Visiting old friends, spending time in their company, has a soothing effect, and with all the chaos engulfing us right now, I need the comfort those old friends can provide.

Alex is one of those characters I can see myself being friends with. I can imagine the two of us in a darkened home library, the fireplace roaring as Alex regales me with tales of their past exploits. There would be a table set with tea, and we would talk late into the night. I just wouldn’t want that library to be in the Ushers’ ancestral home.

What Moves the Dead is a story that burrowed under my skin, flooding my system with its miasmatic spores until I felt as if my lungs were filled with a wiggling fungal infection, one that threatened to turn me into that nightmarish hare on the cover. It’s a story so steeped in mycological nightmares that once I walked through those doors, I felt just as doomed as Madeline and Roderick. Kingfisher’s prose is as enthralling as it is horrific. She weaves a tale I never wanted to end—even if I desperately wanted Alex and their friends out of it.

Red Rabbit Ghost by Jen Julian

 

Synopsis From Back Cover:

Eighteen years ago, an infant Jesse Calloway was found wailing on the bank of a river, his mother dead beside him. The mystery of her death has haunted him all his life, and despite every effort, he has never been able to uncover the truth. 

Now someone is promising him answers. An anonymous source claims that they'll tell him everything. But only if he returns to the hometown he swore he'd left in the rearview. 

But in Blacknot, North Carolina, nothing is as it seems. It's a town that buries its secrets deep. Jesse's relentless investigation garners attraction from intimidating locals, including his dangerous ex-boyfriend. And he'll soon discover that this backwater town hides a volatile and haunting place on its desolate edge.

I picked this up off a table at our west side Barnes & Noble, and I knew in less than a minute that it was coming home with me. The cover alone is worth the purchase, but then I read the synopsis—and really, who doesn’t love a good queer, haunted-house, Southern Gothic tale? That was all she wrote. I got suckered into buying another book when I already own far too many that are still waiting to be read. Now that I’ve read it, some of that initial luster has faded a bit, but I’m still fricking glad I experienced this one for myself.

I’m going to start off by saying that Jen Julian’s prose is a pleasure to read. It’s lush and evocative, creating characters and landscapes that have been lingering in my mind for days. With her words, she painted Blacknot, NC into vivid life. I experienced the putrid smell of the congested pig farms and felt the spongy give of rotting floorboards as Jesse explored the rooms of the Night House. I felt the desperation and rage Alice experienced as she watched her world crumble around her. The fetid smell and cloying humidity of the swamp clung to my skin and seeped into my lungs. Red Rabbit Ghost is a fever dream that unmercifully assaults the senses, and I was there for every second of it.

And yet, as much as I loved feeling like I was there with Jesse and Alice, that may be part of the reason I didn’t fully connect with the story as a whole. I need to phrase this next part as carefully as I can, so bear with me—I may ramble a bit. The landscape of this nightmarish world, full of ghosts and magic, felt so tangible that I think it may have gotten in the way of making the characters feel just as real. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the time I spent with Jesse, but the frantic pace he kept—trying to find his mom and uncover what happened to her—didn’t allow who he was as a person to come to the forefront. He felt two-dimensional for most of the book, and I hate that for him. He deserved to feel as real as the world he inhabited.

Alice, for the most part, was so full of rage and hurt that, despite the amount of page time she had, she never felt fully real to me at any point in the story. That leaves the side characters—including the ex-boyfriend I wanted dumped in the swamp for the alligators to feed on—who I can only describe as storytelling props. They were there, they did the narrative jobs they were written to do, but they felt more like NPCs in a random, generic video game.

Now, based on the length of that last section, you might think I didn’t enjoy this book as much as I did—but you’d be wrong. While Blacknot, NC isn’t a place I’d ever want to experience in the real world, I loved the time I spent with Jesse as he navigated dirt roads, swampy backwoods, and the Night House in search of the truth. It’s just not a story I feel compelled to revisit anytime soon.

Challenges: Mount TBR

Nothing But Blackened Teeth by Cassandra Khaw

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

A Heian-era mansion stands abandoned, its foundations resting on the bones of a bride and its walls packed with the remains of the girls sacrificed to keep her company.

It’s the perfect wedding venue for a group of thrill-seeking friends brought back together to celebrate a wedding. 

But a night of food, drinks, and games quickly spirals into a nightmare as secrets getbdrwgged out and relationships are tested. 

But the house has secrets too. Lurking in the shadows is the ghost bride with a black smile and a hungry heart.

And she gets lonely down there in the dirt.

I don’t say this often—or lightly—but Nothing But Blackened Teeth is one of those books you are either going to love with everything in you, or loathe with your entire soul. I’ve seen no middle ground on this one, and sadly, those who hate it seem to be in the majority.

I personally find the hate this book receives to be undeserved. I fall firmly into the camp that absolutely adores this 124-page novella with every fiber of my being. When I decided to give this a reread a few days ago, I went back and looked at the short little review I typed up on Goodreads the first time around. I loved it so much that I said it belonged alongside The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, Hell House by Richard Matheson, and Drawing Blood by Poppy Z. Brite. After this reread, I stand by that.

When I read this for the first time, I experienced an author who truly loves language—the way words feel as you take them in, one after the other, as they lodge themselves into the nooks and crannies of your mind. There is a rhythmic flow to Khaw’s writing as she chooses words and then plays with the way they connect to one another. I think the reason I love this book as much as I do is because this gorgeous writing wraps itself around a group of petty, spiteful, deeply unlikable characters who have no business being friends, let alone gathering together to explore a haunted house and a culture they have no respect for—an experience not all of them will survive. The contrast is so stark that I can’t help but be completely enthralled by it.

While I’m on the subject of language, I want to briefly mention how much I appreciate the seamless way Khaw incorporates Japanese without feeling the need to translate or explain every word outside of the natural context already provided. All too often, those explanations pull me right out of the story, and I’m grateful that never happens here.

I don’t know how often I’ll pull this off the shelf to revisit this beautifully written piece of horror, but I do know that when I do, I’ll embrace the experience and happily lose myself in the ebbs and flows of the prose as I once again walk the halls of that house.

Road of Bones by Christopher Golden

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

Surrounded by barren trees in a snow-covered wilderness with a dim, dusty sky forever overhead, Siberia's Kolyma Highway is 1,200 miles of gravel-packed perma frost within driving distance of the Artic Circle. A narrow path where drivers face such challenging conditions as icy surfaces, limited visibility, and an average temperature of sixty degrees below zero, fatal car crashes are common. 

But motorists are not the only victims of the highway. Known as the Road of Bones, it is a massive graveyard for the former Soviet Union's gulag prisoners. Hundreds of thousands of people were worked to death and left where their bodies fell, consumed by the frozen elements and plowed beneath the road. 

Fascinated by the history, documentary film producer Felix "Teig" Teigland is in Russia to drive the highway, envisioning a new series capturing life and death on the Road of Bones with a ride to the town of Akhust, "the coldest place on Earth," collecting ghost stories and local legends along the way. However, when Teig and his team reach their destination, they find an abandoned town, save one catatonic nine-year-old girl—and a pack of predatory wolves, faster and smarter than any wilds animals should be. 

Pursued by the otherworldly beasts, Teig's companions confront even more uncanny and inexplicable phenomenon along the Road of Bones, as if the ghosts of Stalin's victims were haunting them. It is a harrowing journey that will push Teig to the edge of human endurance. 

Damn, that is a long synopsis. Normally, when a synopsis runs that long, I’ll try to condense it myself, but everything I cut made it unreadable. So, apologies in advance for a summary that’s longer than my review.

This has been my year of intentional rereads—mostly because I wanted the comfort of knowing I’d be spending time with books I already loved. And in a few cases (some of which I’ve already reviewed), there were books I read after I stopped blogging or writing anything longer than a two or three sentence Goodreads review that I’ve been itching to finally write a “proper” review for. Road of Bones by Christopher Golden is one of them.

There are a few living authors I love enough to be automatic buys that I can count them on one hand. Christopher Golden has been on that list since I read his Buffy the Vampire Slayer tie-ins. How quickly I get around to reading each new book he releases is a different story.

What I adore about horror—when it’s done right—is its ability to rip my heart out, leaving me on the floor, shattered beyond comprehension. That ability to break me never fails to satisfy, even when I’m mourning characters who grew to mean so much. Golden writes the way I dreamed of writing as a kid, and because of that he creates worlds populated with characters I connect to instantly—people who feel so real I’m fully immersed within a few pages.

That ability is in 3D Technicolor in Road of Bones. From the moment Teig’s truck slams into a guardrail on the Kolyma Highway as he skids across icy permafrost, to the moment Nari stomps her hooves before slipping back into the forest, I’m sold. I’m ready and willing to believe in the reality Golden has created.

This is a folk-horror, ghost-story fever dream set in a place most of us wouldn’t survive for five minutes. I felt every icy blade of wind cutting through the landscape. I saw shadows sliding across my walls as they crawled out of the dark. I felt the fleeting relief, the deep bone-cold terror, the fierce love I developed for these characters, and eventually the hollow sorrow that settled in as I followed them across Siberia. And yes, I know I’ll put myself through it again with a kind of twisted joy.

Now I just need to decide which of the other four Golden books sitting on my shelves I’m going to pick up next.

Binge Watch --- Grimm

 

Grimm is one of those shows I stopped watching when I abruptly went cold turkey on all TV. Grimm and Supernatural aired around the same time, so before I said goodbye, my DVR was getting a workout. Of all the shows I was watching, those were the two that were the hardest to give up—though I think my DVR was grateful.

If you’ve ever wanted to live next door to your favorite fairytale monsters, Grimm is the show for you. If you’re not familiar with it, let’s recap the premise. Nick Burkhardt, played by the uber-hot David Giuntoli, is a Portland homicide detective whose life changes when his dying aunt shows up out of the blue. Nick discovers he’s a Grimm—part of a long line of guardians who maintain the balance between the human and Wesen worlds.

If you’re unsure what Wesen are, think: the Big Bad Wolf, the Three Little Pigs, Anubis, naiads, wendigos, witches, and a myriad of other creatures from fairytales and myths. Wesen hide among us, appearing as normal humans until they woge, revealing their true selves.

Grimm lasted six seasons, from 2011 to 2017, and in my not-so-humble opinion, that was nowhere near long enough. It built an entire mythology that was not only fun to be immersed in but believable as well. That’s why I love fantasy, in all its forms—when done right, it submerges you, pulling you out of the real world for an hour or two, maybe even ten, at a time. The “reality” that Grimm creates is one of those instances.

They built a world that just feels real. While I’m watching it, I forget Wesen aren’t real. I believe the royal families are pulling the strings behind the scenes. I believe that Black Claw and Hadrian’s Wall are fighting a war that will force everyone to choose a side. I forget that Nick, Hank, Renard, Adalind, Wu, Monroe, Rosalee, and Juliette are characters being played by ridiculously talented actors. Whether I’m watching one episode or ten, I’m all in the entire time.

Before I leave you with just enough curiosity to check the show out for yourself, I have to touch upon the city it’s set and filmed in—Portland, Oregon. This isn’t the Portland of the 1980s, which was the last time I was there. This is a vibrant city full of life and beauty. I absolutely adore the Pacific Northwest, with its old-growth forests and ferns as big as golden retrievers. I love the weather and the way of life.

Grimm brings all of that to the forefront, and Portland is as much a character as Nick himself. I honestly don’t know if the show would have worked as well anywhere else. It rekindled my love for the region—and if I don’t end up moving back to the north shore of Lake Superior, it’ll be back to Oregon, on the western side of the Cascades.

And make no mistake: I’m Team Adalind all the way. After everything she and Nick go through separately, they both deserve any happiness they can find together.

I’ve heard they’re planning a movie set a decade or two after the show ended. I hope it’s a continuation of the story and the characters I love—but at this point, I’ll take whatever they’re willing to share with us. I can’t wait to be immersed in that world again.

Favorite Fictional Character --- Elvira

 

Jack-o'-lanterns are being carved, bats are hanging from the ceiling, and costumes are being finalized for Halloween night — just two more short days!

I’m sure a lot of us are also getting ready to watch our favorite scary movies (if you haven’t already started, like I have). I plan to spend Halloween night cuddled up in bed with the lights off, eating popcorn — a mix of butter and cheesy jalapeño — and watching way too many of those spine-chilling movies I love so much.

If you’re a horror-loving movie fan, there’s no way you don’t know tonight’s Favorite Fictional Character: Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. Played by the effervescent Cassandra Peterson, Elvira is both a horror and pop culture icon.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a full episode of her various TV hosting gigs where she introduced those glorious B-movies — but she was everywhere in the ’80s and ’90s. It was impossible not to know who she was. When she co-wrote her own movie, Elvira: Mistress of the Dark (1988), my lifelong obsession officially began.

Elvira is drop-dead gorgeous, flirty, sarcastic, and completely in control of her persona. Some may see a vapid creature of the night; I see a vamp of a woman whose intelligence shines through every wink and slyly biting quip. I honestly don’t know how anyone resists her charms. Elvira is — and forever will be — my Queen of the Night.

I’ll leave you now, as I have a few final preparations to make. Happy Halloween! 🎃

Come Knocking by Mike Bockoven

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

When Come Knocking came to Los Angeles, the interactive theater production that took over six floors of an abandoned building was met with raves, lines for tickets, and reviews calling it the "must-see experience of a generation." But after dozens of people were killed and hundreds injured on a bloody night of chaos during the shows run, the nation was captured by one inescapable question: How could this happen?

As the dust settles, investigative reporter Adam Jake's is tasked with uncovering the truth behind the massacre. Through a series of interviews with survivors, cast members, and witnesses, Jakes pieces together the chilling reality behind what was supposed to be the ultimate theatrical experience. 

Somehow I missed—despite it being boldly stated on the cover—that Come Knocking was written by the same author who wrote Fantasticland, a book that’s been on my TBR for a very, very long time. Told through a series of interviews, Reddit posts, voice memos, 911 calls, and the occasional letter, Come Knocking explores the events that led up to more than fifty people being murdered on the night of March 14th.

I was going to talk about the structure of the novel, the play/performance itself (I would’ve loved to experience the show firsthand), and the way the author manages to make each voice distinct and believable. Instead, I want to touch on the not-so-subtle social commentary woven through this heartbreakingly violent act born of rage and pain.

I think most of us are aware of just how mean-spirited the internet has allowed people to become. As a society, we hide behind our screens and usernames, giving ourselves permission to use hurtful, hateful, extreme, and occasionally violent rhetoric when dealing with people or works of art we consider to be the “other.” It seems we can no longer have a civil discussion on most platforms, largely because we’ve segregated ourselves into online communities that think like us and hold the same “values” — values we see as superior to those of the “other” groups we now view as the enemy. That kind of online self-radicalization saturates the narrative of Come Knocking. This was not an act of violence that could have happened twenty years ago.

To a lesser extent — as the real motivation isn’t revealed until the end — the other piece of commentary I want to touch on is probably a bit more controversial. This violent act, like too many of our real-world tragedies, was ultimately born from abuse and trauma that was never treated or taken seriously. Come Knocking may be fictional, but it fits a pattern we’ve all come to recognize. When massive, extremely violent acts are inflicted on the public, we often chalk them up to “mental illness,” yet almost no one asks what caused that illness or what pushed someone to lash out this way. An abusive or violent past can’t excuse what a person does—but how can we ever start preventing such acts if we refuse to address their roots?

What I don’t want you to think is that the social commentary gets in the way of the story—because it doesn’t. The author is skilled enough to let the story tell itself, allowing all these themes to resonate without overwhelming the narrative. It’s a story that’s both violent and heartbreaking, and it’s made all the more frightening by how real it feels. When I finished reading, it took me a few minutes to remind myself that this was fiction—because it felt all too real.

If Fantasticland comes even close to the emotional impact Come Knocking had on me, I really need to move it up on my TBR pile.

Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero

 

Synopsis From Back Cover:

In 1977, four teenagers and a dog—Andy (the tomboy), Kate (the nerd), Kerri (the bookworm), Peter (the jock), and Tim (the Weimaraner)—solved the mystery of Sleepy Lake. The trail of an amphibian monster terrorizing the quiet town of Blayton Hills led the gang to spend a night in Deboën Mansion and apprehend a familiar culprit: a bitter old man in a mask. 

Now, in 1990, the twentysomething former teen detectives are lost souls. Plagued by night terrors and Peter's tragic death, the three survivors have been running from their demons. When the man they apprehended all those years ago makes parole, Andy tracks him down to confirm what she's always known, they got the wrong guy. Now she'll need to get the gang back together and return to Blyton Hills to find out what happened in 1977, and this time, she's sure they're not looking for another man in a mask. 

Does anyone of a certain age not love Scooby-Doo? How many of us grew up watching Fred, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby run through spooky mansions catching thieving butlers and shady real estate developers? I own the entire series of Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! and my favorite episode of Supernatural is the one where they’re sucked into a Scooby-Doo cartoon. I even own all the Funko Pops! I’m saying all this to explain why, when I found Meddling Kids at Barnes & Noble, I bought it faster than a cat lapping chain lightning.

Based on the blurb, I was expecting a more adult version of the Scooby gang. I wanted a story that delivered the humor I’d expect, blended with some genuinely scary happenings. I wanted higher stakes and real monsters. What I wasn’t expecting was a full-on Lovecraftian horror story that was hilarious and still managed to make these “kids” feel fully human—flaws and all—rather than the cardboard cutouts this sort of story usually serves up. I mean, let’s face it: as much as I love Scooby-Doo, I’m not expecting a lot of depth from the gang while we’re all haunting out.

Stylistically, reading this was a fricking blast. It regularly switches between second and third person, slips from traditional prose into play format (complete with stage directions), and includes some brilliantly made-up words that the author seems to have invented on the fly. If that sounds like utter chaos—it is. And I loved every single word of it. If any book should be chaotic, it’s a violent Lovecraftian Scooby-Doo send-up that somehow had me laughing out loud and contemplating life, sometimes on the same page.

I had such a good time reading this book that it reminded me of being a kid again—curled up on the couch, watching Scooby and Shaggy get used, once again, as bait in one of Fred’s elaborate traps. It was both nostalgic and refreshingly new at the same time. I’m just hoping we either get a sequel or, even better, a movie. That’s one I’d absolutely be there for on opening night.

Favorite Fictional Character --- Grace Le Domas

 

I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m a huge horror movie fan. At last count, I own over 500 physical movies, and I believe it’s safe to say that almost 70% of them are horror. Hell, it might even be more than that. When I go to the movies, nine times out of ten, it’s going to be a horror film. I saw Good Boy two weekends ago (and yes, the dog will absolutely get his own FFC post). This weekend, I think I may go see Shelby Oaks.

One of the best times I’ve ever had in a theater was in 2019 when I watched Ready or Not. For those of you unfamiliar with one of the greatest horror comedies of all time, let me set the stage. Samara Weaving plays our heroine, Grace Le Domas. She’s just married into a rich and powerful family who made their fortune through games—and a little secret deal on the side. When someone marries into the family, the newlywed has to draw a card from an ancient box in the family’s game room. Whatever game is drawn, everyone must play. When Grace pulls her card, it reads Hide and Seek.

Grace, like most of us would, assumes it’ll be a harmless game—she hides, someone finds her, everyone laughs, and the night ends. But she quickly learns that if she’s found, the seeker gets to kill her. If she survives until sunrise, she wins… and the rest of the Le Domas family loses. And trust me, they really, really don’t want to lose.

Grace is one of those characters you can’t help but admire in a huge way. She’s thrown into a situation that most people wouldn’t be able to handle. I’d like to think I have the same fire inside me that she does. Realistically, I’d probably be curled up in a ball, waiting for my time to come. She’s resourceful, quick-thinking, adaptable, and has a pain tolerance I’m downright jealous of. Grace is the kind of character who embodies the inner strength I want for myself. She’s amazing—and I revisit her story at least once a year. Hopefully, you’ll choose to meet her soon yourself.

And yes, I know I was being a little facetious with my opening line—because let’s be real, this isn’t the first (or the last) time I’ve mentioned my love of horror.

Horseman by Christina Henry

 

Synopsis From Back Cover:

Everyone in Sleepy Hollow knows about the Horseman, but no one really believes in him. Not even Ben Van Brunt's grandfather, Brom Bones, who was there when it was said the Horseman chased the upstart Crane out of town. Brom says that's just legend, the village gossips talking.

More than thirty years after those storied events, the village is a quiet place. Fourteen-year-old Ben loves to play Sleepy Hollow boys, reenacting the events Brom once lived through. But then Ben and a friend stumble across the headless body of a child in the woods near the village, and the sinister discovery makes Ben question everything the adults in Sleepy Hollow have ever said. Could the Horseman be real after all? Or does something even more sinister stalk the woods?

This review has taken me longer to write than I expected—and not because I didn’t absolutely adore the book (I did). It’s not that I wasn’t fascinated by the characters either; they’re still living rent-free in my soul. I hope I made that clear when I chose Brom Bones for a Favorite Fictional Character post. It’s also not because Christina Henry didn’t craft one of the most unputdownable books I’ve held in a long time. I honestly read until I was too damn tired to keep my eyes open.

What I’ve struggled with is how to review this book without spoiling anything. The plot points I most want you to discover for yourselves are so tightly woven into the fabric of the story that discussing them at all would give something away. And that would be, to borrow a phrase, a crying shame.

What I can say is that this is Ben’s story, and at fourteen, he commands it in a way that many adults can’t manage. He’s not perfect—he makes bad decisions, often because he has the emotional and mental maturity of a typical kid his age—but he’s also a young man who knows who he is and how he fits into the world around him. He's one of those rare young characters I can't help but look up to. 

I also want to briefly touch on how impressed I am with the author’s ability to build upon an existing classic while making it completely her own—without compromising the original material or making it feel small or dated. Horseman feels like a natural continuation of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow—a continuation I hope you’ll read for yourself.

Favorite Fictional Character --- Michael Emerson

 

I’m not even going to pretend I picked Michael Emerson from The Lost Boys for any reason other than the fact that I had a massive crush on him during my adolescent years. I’m actually a little tongue-tied as I’m typing this because, while I’m not embarrassed to admit it, I feel like I should at least try to come up with one profound reason why I think he’s so damn dreamy.

Sorry—hot.

Holy hell, that’s not right either. What I meant to say is that I’m picking him for the way he’s always there for his brother, and for how he stepped up to help his newly single mom. Or maybe because he’s fearless when protecting his family from a nest of rampaging vampires. Actually, that just makes him even more attractive. So, I guess what I’m really saying is that I picked him because at one point in my life, I wanted to jump his bones.

Look at those eyes and tell me you wouldn’t get lost in them. Tell me you wouldn’t want him gazing into your eyes as you tell him about your day—really listening, not pretending. You wouldn’t want to run your fingers through his hair as he rests his head in your lap while you binge your favorite show, just because he knows that’s what would make you happiest in that moment?

I double dog dare you to even try to deny it. 

There’s no way you wouldn’t want to fall asleep next to him, knowing he’d keep you safe from any vampire trying to stake their claim.

I’m 49 now — no longer that kid with hearts and fangs in his eyes. But if Michael showed up on his motorcycle, looking at me like that, I won’t be responsible for my behavior.

Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

When Quinn and her father move to a tiny town with a weird clown for a mascot, they're looking for a fresh start. But ever since the town's only factory shut down, Kettle Springs has been cracked in half.

Most of the town believes that the kids are to blame. After all, the juniors and seniors at Kettle Springs High are the ones who threw the party where Arthur Hill's daughter died. They're the ones who set the abandoned factory on fire and who spend all their time posting pranks on YouTube. They have no respect and no idea what it means to work hard.

For the kids, it's the other way around And now Kettle Springs is caught in a constant battle between old and new, tradition and progress. It's a fight that looks like it will destroy the town. Until one homicidal clown with a porkpie hat and a red nose decides to end it for good.

Because if your opponents all die, you win the debate by default.

I’ve only been to Albuquerque, New Mexico once in my life—and that was more than enough. I don’t remember the exact year, but it was sometime around seventh or eighth grade, back when my family was traveling with a carnival. I hated that stop from the moment we pulled in. Within a day, my left eye had swollen shut, and I was forced to wear an eye patch. Spoiler alert: it’s not nearly as fun as pirates make it look.

The third night we were there, after the midway had shut down, my younger brother and I got hungry and decided to walk three blocks to what I think was a Whataburger. We were passing what looked like a car lot when a dog rushed the fence. We bolted across the street—and that’s when I saw what was in the window of the building we’d just reached. I immediately turned around and ran right back across. I’d rather take my chances with a guard dog than face a creepy-ass mechanical clown moving in a store window in the middle of the night.

I don’t like clowns. I never have. They’re wrong in a way that gets under your skin. There’s something about those painted faces—those fixed smiles—that hides whatever’s really underneath. Look at John Wayne Gacy. That’s reason enough. I hate them so much that a friend once bought me a shirt that said, Can’t sleep. Clowns will eat me. They thought it was funny. I thought it was prophetic. 

Once, at a Hometown Buffet, a clown came in to make balloon animals. I left mid-meal, plate still full. I wasn’t about to sit there while that greasepainted demon floated toward my table. Clowns are my boogeyman.

Now, I do better when the clowns are fictional—on a page or a screen. Since they’re not physically in my space, I can manage. In a perverse way, I even enjoy testing the limits of what I can handle when it comes to dealing with them. Naturally, since I don’t have to look at them, I prefer reading about those murderous fiends from hell. Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare is chock-full of them.

I won’t go into too many details because I don’t want to spoil the blood-soaked fun, but I will say this: the body count is massive—at least 33 people die, many by crossbow. The book is bloody without being gory, something I’m eternally thankful for. I love horror, but I’ve never been a fan of gore for gore’s sake. The humor is dark (which is probably why I loved it so much), and the queer representation is surprisingly good—without falling into the “bury your gays” trope that annoys the hell out of me.

It’s a lot of fun for a teen slasher novel. The author clearly loves the genre and plays with its tropes in a way that feels fresh instead of tired. I had an absolute blast reading it, and while the movie version was enjoyable, I—unsurprisingly—prefer the book. Now I just need to read the sequels.

And just in case you were wondering, the reason my eye swelled shut in Albuquerque was because of mountain cedar, which is everywhere there. I didn’t find that out until much later, when I had an allergy scratch test done where I now live—far from New Mexico. Apparently, the winds blow the pollen all the way here, which is why they test for it. That little test spot swelled to the size of a fifty-cent piece and stayed that way for a week. So yeah—Albuquerque will be a city I never visit again.

Favorite Fictional Character --- Abraham "Brom Bones" Van Brunt

 

It’s not often that I change my mind about a character, but a book I finished last night has me seeing Brom Bones in a whole new light. Within twenty minutes of reading the last page, I found myself rewatching The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad, and I honestly think Ichabod got what he deserved. Brom did what he had to do to protect Katrina—and his own heart—from that gold-digging schoolmaster.

Now, I’ll admit, I haven’t actually read The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving yet, but I plan to fix that soon. The book that sent me down this rabbit hole was Horseman by Christina Henry. I haven’t written my full review yet, but it’s coming—so keep an eye out.

If you’re not too familiar with Brom, he’s basically the local hero of Sleepy Hollow, this quiet little village that doesn’t get many outsiders. Then along comes Ichabod Crane—the awkward, lanky schoolmaster with a bottomless appetite—who somehow decides he’s going to win over Katrina Van Tassel, the local beauty and daughter of the richest farmer in town.

Naturally, that doesn’t sit well with Brom, who’s been in love with Katrina since they were kids. And while he knows Katrina is just using Ichabod to make him jealous, he decides to make sure Ichabod gets the message loud and clear. Maybe scaring a man half to death was a bit much—but honestly, I can’t say I blame him.

In Horseman, which takes place a few decades after his run-in with Ichabod, Brom is older, a grandfather now, but still completely in love with Katrina. His family is everything to him. He’s still got that same temper and swagger, but it’s mellowed with age. I don’t want to say too much yet—I’m saving that for the review—but I really hope you’ll check out Horseman and maybe, like me, find yourself looking at Brom Bones in a whole new way.

Episode Thirteen by Craig DiLouie

 

Synopsis From Back Cover:

Fade to Black is the newest ghost hunting reality TV show. Led by husband-and-wife team Matt and Claire Kirklin, it features a dedicated crew of ghost hunting experts. 

Episode 13 takes them to every ghost hunters holy grail: the Paranormal Research Foundation. This crumbling, derelict mansion holds secrets and clues about bizarre experiments that took place their in the 1970s. It's undoubtedly haunted, and Matt hopes to use scientific techniques and high-tech gear to prove it.

But as the house begins to slowly reveal itself to the crew, proof of an afterlife might not be everything Matt dreamed of. 

I’ve been in love with found footage horror ever since I first saw The Blair Witch Project back in 1999. Since then, I’ve watched everything from the movies that show the genre at its best—like Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum, The Taking of Deborah Logan, and Hell House LLC—to the ones that make me roll my eyes, like Apollo 18 and Classroom 6. Truthfully, even when they’re bad, I almost always have so much fun watching them.

So when I first heard about Episode Thirteen, I was a tad bit skeptical. How could a movie genre I love so much possibly translate to the page? But here’s the funny thing—it’s the book’s flaws that made me love it even more. Those rough edges, that slightly chaotic structure… they gave the story the same immersive, jittery energy that makes found footage films so addictive.

If you’ve seen even a few of the more popular found footage movies, you already know the formula: a group of people make terrible choices, the camera keeps rolling, and eventually someone finds their footage because—well, no one made it out alive. And yes, the book follows that tradition in terms of the body count. But unlike a lot of movies in the genre, I didn’t find everyone annoying. In fact, I grew really fond of Matt and Jake. By the end, they’d joined the short list of horror characters who genuinely broke my heart—right up there with the narrator from Security by Gina Wohlsdorf.

The story unfolds through journal entries, emails, text messages, video transcripts, and interviews, which perfectly captures that chaotic found footage rhythm. One moment it’s frantic and terrifying; the next, it slows to a crawl, letting the dread seep in. It was those journal entries that really got me, though—they made Matt and Jake feel so real that I couldn’t help rooting for them, even knowing it wouldn’t end well.

By the time I reached the final pages, I was completely wrecked. Episode Thirteen nails everything I love about the genre: the tension, the intimacy, the creeping feeling that I shouldn’t be reading what I’m reading.

If you’re a horror fan, especially one who loves the found footage style with all its chaos and nerve-shredding suspense, this is one book you absolutely need to read.

Ten of the Sexiest Screen Vampires, Volume 7

 

Halloween has, over the years, crept past Christmas to claim the title of my favorite holiday. There’s just something magical about October: the nights grow cooler (even if the days are still too darn warm), the leaves shift into fiery shades, and my already horror-loving heart gets to revel in all things spooky. Because of that, I’ve decided to resurrect some of my old Halloween traditions here on the blog. And what better place to start than with the return of my annual list of sexy vampires? If you missed my earlier posts rising from the crypt, you can revisit the lists from 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, and 2014.

Without further ado, I give you ten damn sexy vampires who’d love nothing more than to sink their teeth into you.

The Men

Vlad Dracula as played by Luke Evans in Dracula Untold (2014). Not going to lie, Luke Evans is just about the hottest man on the planet, and I would let his version of Dracula do just about anything to me. 

Louis de Pointe du Lac as played by Jacob Anderson in AMC's Interview with the Vampire. He's broody, emotional, and from all accounts a hell of a kisser. Brad Pitt's version as already appeared on these lists, but I think this version runs laps around him. 

Remmick as played by Jack O'Connell in Sinners (2025). Between his Irish accent and singing like a dream, Remmick is a catch. He's looking for a family, and he might just decide you'd fit right in. 

Edward Dalton as played by Ethan Hawke in Daybreakers (2009). Smart and sexy is always a winning combination. 

Raphael Santiago as played by David Castro in the TV show Shadowhunters. A religious family man to his core, Raphael loves with a conviction few others posses. It helps that he's hot too. 

The Women

The Girl as played by Sheila Vand in A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (2014). An avenging angel who won't tolerate men mistreating women, The Girl is both gorgeous and deadly. Side note, if you've never seen this movie, do so. 

Mary as played by Hailee Steinfeld in Sinners (2025). Mary is walking contradiction of emotions, both vindictive and loving, Mary is just wanting to be loved by a man who will stay. Isn't that what we all want? 

Darla as played by Julie Benz from the TV shows Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. Darla has the soul of a demon, but loves hard despite it. And she's smoking hot.

Lucy Weston as played by Frances Dade in Dracula (1931). As kind as she was beautiful, Lucy caught the eye of Count Dracula, and she was never the same again. 

Marya Zaleska as played by Gloria Holden in Dracula's Daughter (1936). Regal in manner Countess Zaleska commands attention, and she gets it.