Is it possible? Can we already be in a new year? I’m writing this review at the tail-end of the old year. The world is in a weird place at the moment, and it’s only going to get weirder, to put it in the mildest terms. But there is still comfort to be found in fiction, and particularly horror, where the monsters are safely confined to the page. Here are four excellent, dark, and moody stories to kick off the New Year and hopefully help you persevere. As always, there are spoilers ahead, so beware!
“Wiremother” by Laura Mauro was published in the September 2024 issue of The Dark (https://www.thedarkmagazine.com/wiremother/). Mauro has a talent for surreal, immersive stories that feel lived in, even—or perhaps especially—when certain elements are left unexplained. “Wiremother” is no exception. It has the familiar feel of a fairy tale, like Rapunzel, and yet it is its own thing entirely.
Every morning is the same. I wake up, shower, get ready for school. I take Mother out of the chifforobe and place her on the dressing table, so she’ll catch a little afternoon sunshine. She tells me I shouldn’t bother, but I think she enjoys it, secretly; on those occasions where I forget, she’s sluggish for the rest of the day, more severe than usual. Like a plant starved of sunlight.
Helen lives in a neglected and crumbling house with Mother, a jagged creature of glass and metal and wires, supposedly built by her flesh-and-blood mother to care for her and protect her. Mother is obsessed with Helen’s cleanliness, and with her obedience. She fears Helen leaving her, and under the guise of protecting and taking care of her, she all but keeps her locked up, forbidding her from going anywhere other than to school. Despite Mother’s attempts to keep her isolated, Helen develops feelings for her friend Alanna and begins to want more from the world—including a relationship that’s built on trust and caring, not fear and control.
The oppressive atmosphere of the house and the sense of isolation comes through perfectly. Mauro does a wonderful job of capturing Helen’s complicated feelings toward Mother—her desire to be free and live her own life, along with her feelings of guilt and responsibility, not to mention that Mother is her last tie to her flesh-and-blood mother. While playing the victim, Mother effectively manipulates Helen, digging into that guilt under the guise of love. It’s an excellent story, and the whole thing is beautifully done.
“The V*mpire” by P.H. Lee, published at Reactor in October 2024, (https://reactormag.com/the-vampire-p-h-lee/) is another story that deals in isolation, with one character manipulating another’s emotions, insecurity, and guilt for their own gain.
It’s 2012 and you’re fourteen years old and you have strong feelings about Captain America so of course you’re pretending to be a girl on Tumblr.
Alex is still trying to figure out her identity. She isn’t quite ready to call herself a trans girl yet, and so she tells herself she’s just pretending to be a girl in a safe space on Tumblr where she can explore her fandoms and not feel judged. She writes fics and bonds with other users, in particular callmemaggie98. But even in a relatively safe space, there are community members who are toxic, including one who accuses anyone who wouldn’t issue a blanket invitation to all vampires to enter their homes of being a vampophobe. Afraid of being hurtful and not respecting others, Alex agrees that any vampire can enter her home at any time and ends up targeted by an abusive vampire. He convinces her that everything she does is wrong, that he’s the victim and she’s at fault. He leaves her isolated, cut off from her other friends, miserable, and hating herself as his behavior grows increasingly violent, culminating in him murdering Alex’s mother.
The story is dark, effective, and disturbing. Like Mauro’s story, the feeling of a young and vulnerable character being trapped by an abusive figure preying on their guilt is palpable. Lee does a wonderful job of looking at online toxicity and callout culture, exploring how bad faith actors might co-opt a genuine desire to be understanding and inclusive and use it to their own advantage, but also showing what genuine inclusiveness, kindness, caring, and acceptance looks like as Alex ultimately reunites with callmemaggie98 and finds her community.
“The House That Stands Over Your Grave” by Kyle Piper, published in Pseudopod in October 2024, (https://pseudopod.org/2024/10/25/pseudopod-944-the-house-that-stands-over-your-grave/) is another deeply atmospheric story. In this case, however, the emotional manipulation is largely accidental as Kennedy, the new girl in town, lightly pressures Lew into accompanying her to the local haunted house. She doesn’t know Lew’s full backstory, or the source of his reluctance, and Lew agrees readily out of his own loneliness and inability to make other friends, not wanting to lose the respect of the one person who is willing to hang out with him.
The approach to the house’s back porch is a minefield of broken glass bottles, cigarette butts, dried patches of tall grass, and a whole lot more of those gross mushrooms. Lew marches toward the ruin like he’s about to charge into battle. He’s come dangerously close to backing out already, and now he knows he’s at the point of no return. He hadn’t worked that hard not to cry in front of Kennedy just to wimp out now.
The house in question just happens to overlook the graveyard where Lew’s brother is buried, and Lew blames himself for Bryan’s death. He doesn’t share any of this with Kennedy however, forging ahead and following her into the house’s basement where they discover that unnaturally large mushrooms have colonized the space. Then something begins to push through the dirt of the wall.
The haunted house is perfectly described, as is the relationship between Lew and Kennedy. The story manages to be lovely, melancholy, and genuinely tense all at once—a beautiful exploration of survivor’s guilt, that also manages to capture the unnerving sensation of watching a character in a movie go down the stairs into a place you know they shouldn’t go, and then twisting the horror of the situation around again to turn it into one of heartbreak.
“A Stranger Knocks” by Tananarive Due, published in Uncanny in their September/October 2024 issue, (https://www.uncannymagazine.com/article/a-stranger-knocks/) also deals with what is very likely a manipulative vampire, though the character is never explicitly named as such.
Her memory of his appearance would change over time, but the first impression she would always remember was pale golden hair that curled nearly to his coat collar and eyes that looked silver more than blue, the color of moonlight. Those eyes smiled as if the young colored couple living in such a well-appointed bungalow amused him. So much about him was a puzzle, but she recognized his condescension on sight.
Judy and Alvin are newlyweds in the employ of Professor Garrett, taking care of his house while he travels. A stranger knocks on their door one night, offering them another employment opportunity—one they can’t refuse. He makes monster movies starring Black people and designed for Black audiences, allowing them to see themselves as fully rounded characters, rather than being caricatures, or being entirely absent, as they are in films made by white directors. All he needs is someone to drive him and his films around to various theaters. He offers the couple more money than either could hope to make otherwise, and he offers Judy a chance to learn the secrets of moviemaking, even though she never explicitly shared out loud her fascination with the craft and her desire to learn.
Cartier seems to know everything about Alvin and Judy, including exactly how to get them to agree to go along with him. During the first screening they attend, Judy temporarily goes into a trance-like state, unable to remember the specifics of the movie, but left with a haunted feeling that something is terribly wrong. It doesn’t take her long to work out that their new employer is a chameleon-like monster in his own right—able to alter his appearance to pass as white and as human, using his movies and the spell they cast to prey on a vulnerable population. By the time she works it out, however, it’s too late—Cartier uses her love for Alvin to trap her, leaving her no choice but to become complicit in his crimes.
The story is smoothly written and feels immediately immersive. While it doesn’t deal in the same oppressive feel as the other stories—except for one scene featuring a narrow staircase and a projection booth—the atmosphere transports readers back to the silent film era. The characters are vividly drawn—Cartier oozing oily and dangerous charm, Judy’s enthusiasm allowing her to overlook her doubts until it’s too late, and Alvin’s desire to make Judy happy all working together to trap the couple. While Due’s vampire is less overtly abusive than Lee’s, he employs similar tactics, manipulating Judy’s emotions, isolating her, and the threats he delivers are all the more chilling and effective for their subtlety.
