Enjoy a few reviews . . .

THIS IS A story for readers who enjoy horror with elements of other genres blended into it. A paranormal element that lends itself to something like King’s Firestarter, a detective at work, supernatural shenanigans, plus some mental health, addiction, and fidelity themes are thrown in there too. It seems like it’s a lot – and initially it is – but it comes together as a melting pot rather than a mess.

     After some truly weird dreams and a disturbing message, Nate is compelled to track down Cathy, an old flame, whom he hasn’t seen for almost a decade. He’s alarmed to find her institutionalised and he, along with us, realises swiftly that this might not be a normal medical establishment. The primary doctor caring for her has some . . . shall we say, special interests? One of them is most definitely Cathy, and this interest seems to expand past the usual professional parameters. Nate is doubly alarmed to find someone else with Cathy, someone that shouldn’t be there. He sets his sights on freeing both of them, despite the fact that this means physically breaking them out.

     Meanwhile, a cop is on Nate’s trail because some of his recent activity bears much resemblance to a bizarre former case that has suddenly flung itself into the present, and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it all and discover what the link to Nate actually is.

     What we end up with is a fast-paced, complex story that keeps us guessing and entertained throughout. Sure, it could have been a little tighter, plot-wise – there’s a lot going on here – but it’s an engaging story full of surprises, without any boring predictability. I’d recommend this to general horror fans – I had fun with it!

—Kayleigh Dobbs

THIS BOOK IS a sequel to Pennies from Heaven, and it’s a – and I say this with about 50% confidence because I rarely read outside horror and am not confident identifying other genres! – cosy murder mystery. I think. It follows Jane and Jerry, one of my favourite ever married couples after reading the first novel, in a continuation of their lives after the events of Pennies. Jane and Jerry are a wonderful couple who support each other, and for this part of their journey, they’re ambitiously undertaking separate entrepreneurial ventures. The problem is, they seem to have been spitefully targeted, and before long, Jane worries that the culprit is an insufferable, murderous woman from their past, who is presumed dead by the town.

     Jane and Jerry might have a bit more information about said apparently dead woman, but for various reasons, they can’t go to the police with their concerns.

     I did prefer the first novel, but only by a slim margin. Jerry is one of my all-time favourite characters because he’s sassy and funny, and being in his perspective is so enjoyable. He retains those fabulous character traits here, but is also affected by the trauma endured in the first book, so we get to dive a little deeper into the darker corners for this one. It’s not overly emotional (still cosy!), but there’s some added depth and layering to him and his marriage that I think serves the overall story very well.

     I can’t speak for regular fans of this genre as I’m so new to it, but I found this such an easy and entertaining read and verily enjoyed it, and so I would personally recommend it.

—Kayleigh Dobbs

THIS NOVELLA CENTRES around Jesse, who is stuck in an odd place waiting for a train, which he’s constantly told “might come tomorrow”. His memory is spotty, he’s quite confused about how he came to be here and when that gosh darn train will turn up so he can leave, and all he really knows for sure is that he has to get himself and his briefcase elsewhere to meet someone. He’s taken into the community by a few very kind souls, who seem to know more than they’re letting on about him, his circumstances, and even what might lie ahead for him once he leaves. Relationships and connections are formed while he waits.

     Thematically, this story initially presents itself as one of karma, cause and consequence, possibly, and uncertainty of the (near) future. And, for that matter, uncertainty of the present. When you scratch below the surface a little though, I interpret this as a story about shifting priorities and re-evaluating what, and who, is really important, and why. The significance of human connection and sincere emotion towards others can’t really be understated, and I think it blossoms here in a subtle and complex way that deepens the protagonist. The writing is very effective in this way because Jesse is someone we know nothing about, outside of his desire to catch that train, and with a story this length, we have little time to get to know him, especially when we don’t know who he was before arriving in this particular town.

     What’s interesting about this story is that it feels like it straddles the real world and somewhere … not quite real. There’s a vague speculative element to the tone and the place that implies things might be a little more complex that Jesse imagines, though I’m pleased to say that it heads somewhere that subverted my expectations. It’s a quiet, thoughtful story that infuses the mild anxiety I enjoy in horror, with western imagery, a hint of crime, and complex character dynamics. I’d recommend this to people looking for something a little different.

—Kayleigh Dobbs

WHILST I HAVE enjoyed work from Ntumy in the past, one has to admit this anthology did have me struggling throughout. The warning that could be given is that these stories are set within a universe that has been created by contemporary African writers and (from reading the Foreword) it turns out there’s a book already in existence – Mothersound: The Sauútiverse Anthology. As a completionist this made me feel that I was at a disadvantage, but as I plunged ahead with the tales selected, I felt that disadvantage bloom further. Unfortunately, I found myself rattling my head over terminology and flicking back to ‘The Non-Introduction’ to see if I could keep up with the various planets that have been created for this universe.

     What I can say is that the volume’s stories work better when they’re focusing on more domestic incidents. Towards the beginning of the book, we have ‘The Temple of the Weeping Drum’ by T.L. Huchu which lands the main character on an investigation of a mass murder; perpetrated seemingly by a rock band at a huge concert. This disturbed concept gained my attention and I was initially invested; but I was disappointed that the potential for a story was cut short – I was ready for a deeper mystery. However, shortly after we have ‘The Song of Ohi’iha’ by Mazi Nwonwu where the main character Kendi is able to have his echo take on physical form as a spiritual twin. This creates a bond between the two – but then Kendi falls for someone. Already a strange concept and yet centred around the human feelings of love and confusion.

     This anthology is broken up with various poems and this can be a tonic for such heavy stories. The stories are well written; but I still couldn’t shake the notion that I had already lost out to it before it began. It’s possible that a dip into the previous anthology is required before one’s mind can be fully open for this one.

—Christopher Gray

THIS BOOK WAS an adventure for me to read (appropriate, as there is much adventuring within the stories!) because typically, I tend to stick to horror. On the rare occasions that I venture into something that isn’t horror, it’s more often than not an autobiography. So this, with its, yes, horror elements, but mostly futuristic sci-fi, adventure, and a whole bunch of other genres I struggle to identify because I don’t quite know what they are, was a gamble for me when I picked it up.

     I found myself lost in these stories. I swam with a pearl diver that meets a generous, mysterious sea creature, and then rescued a princess with a recurring character in Webb’s work called Brunelli. (I love Brunelli, what a great character!) In ‘Fade to Grey’, I experienced the anxiety-inducing horror I crave through a journalist investigating a surgeon that I definitely wouldn’t trust to operate on me, and then in ‘Sorrow’, my spirits were lifted by the somewhat funny perils of a sea captain. ‘Future Perfect’ is a personal favourite, with its sci-fi/horror/crime-esque mash-up of elements, and then from there I enjoyed another story with a Tolkien- esque flair to it. What follows is comedy with a parrot, a brilliant (devious and murderous) plot involving snakes, a displeased Celtic tribe, religion, a lovely dog, war, an incredible and subtle modern Gothic that made me scared to turn out the lights, and much to my delight, more Brunelli.

     There isn’t a weak story in the whole bunch, and though I hardly ever find myself giving an anthology a perfect score, this was a definite 5/5 for me. I found Webb’s writing very engaging, and the stories are so varied, unique and interesting that with each one I finished, I couldn’t wait to start the next.

—Kayleigh Dobbs

WHILE IT MIGHT be a stretch to call A House of Dynamite a 2020s iteration of Threads, in a world where fingers are poised on buttons bigger and redder than ever before, it’s hard not to see the quiet chills and lump-in-throat horrors Kathryn Bigelow’s thriller puts across.

     An unknown adversary has launched a missile. The target? Chicago. Cue the military officials of the USA (an ensemble cast nearly all of whom are on top form, featuring the likes of Rebecca Ferguson, Jared Harris, and underdog Gabriel Basso) running about like headless chickens as the impending catastrophe creeps ever nearer. Ferguson, core to that first splinter, arguably enraptures the audience best here, although Idris Elba crops up and manages a performance as the President which is as urgent as it is bitterly sobering. 

     Unlike a lot of thrillers, where the chain reaction is woven into it like a line of dominoes edging towards an inferno, Dynamite flips the situation on its head. It portrays the same scenario multiple times, but on each occasion from different angles and political agendas. Yes, the directorial undercurrent is unashamedly socialite and pacifistic agenda in the end; however, the film’s noose is very much an all-encompassing one. In the moment, each POV effectively usurps the others to the point where everyone is as understandable as they are odious, like some Artaudian torture chamber. It makes the Chekhov’s guns a little obvious when they’re fired, but the bullet is always the focus, not the gun itself.

     Of the various narrative splinters, the first grips your bollocks in the tightest vice and the latter two do lose steam a little; however, the sense of gusto never disappears and it delivers a number of thrills. Dynamite might not reach far enough to be a classic, but it does enough to make itself both worthwhile and memorable.

—Benjamin Kurt Unsworth

Image: On the brink (and phone): Rebecca Ferguson in A House of Dynamite (2025)

THE GUARDIAN CALLED this film a “clumsy hodgepodge of found footage, mockumentary, and conventional narrative”, which only made me want to see it more. On the UK film scene, a one-star review from the Guardian newspaper is like a badge of honour. It even slated the 2024 film Guardian, probably just to spite itself. It also dubbed the much-hyped Shelby Oaks, which was produced, written, and directed by YouTuber Chris Stuckmann in his directorial debut, “junky Halloween horror (which) delivers zero scares.”

     I found that particular comment especially harsh, and a little misplaced. As a noted film critic in his own right, you would think Stuckmann would know his way around a movie. And I am happy to report that despite what the Guardian says, he does. And there are scares aplenty proving once again that movies don’t need huge budgets to be effective. The film’s history dates back to 2021, when Stuckmann was signed by Paper Street Pictures to write and direct a horror movie based on an online marketing campaign around a series of found footage videos depicting a fictional team of paranormal investigators called the “Paranormal Paranoids”. Funding for the movie was attained through a Kickstarter campaign, and it soon became the most funded horror movie on the platform at the time. A version premiered at the prestigious Fantasia International Film Festival in the summer of 2024, where it caught the eye of production and distribution company Neon. Neon achieved huge success with Parasite, Longlegs and The Monkey, and handed Stuckmann extra funding to “refine” the film and add a bit of gore before they packaged it up with the intention of making it The Next Big Thing. 

     Did they succeed? Yes and no. This is very much a film of two halves. The first is full of intrigue and spine-tingling potential, while the second descends into a slightly derivative, cliché-ridden romp and follows a much more traditional narrative. Even though found footage only makes up a small percentage of the running time, Shelby Oaks will inevitably draw comparisons to The Blair Witch Project, which is lazy and uninspired to say the least. It’s a bit like comparing every sci-fi movie ever made to Star Wars. That isn’t to say there aren’t similarities, but you will also find identifiable elements of Rosemary’s Baby, Hereditary, and even Silence of the Lambs, as Stuckmann flexes his muscles and shows off his encyclopaedic knowledge of horror cinema. The problem is that like so many other debuts, at times Shelby Oaks doesn’t just borrow but falls into the trap of paying homage to what are probably Stuckmann’s favourite films, and he is often caught in a weird twilight zone in which he is simultaneously guilty of not doing enough and trying to do too much. 

     Shelby Oaks is the name of a fictional town in Ohio, not an individual, as I first assumed. After a spate of mysterious disappearances, the town is abandoned and left to rot, along with the funfair and local jail, once the stomping ground of one Wilson Miles. When the Paranormal Paranoids head there to investigate, things go south pretty quickly and most of their number come to sticky ends, all except Riley Brennan (played by Sarah Durn) who vanishes, prompting her elder sister Mia (Camille Sullivan) to devote herself to solving the mystery. In the process she uncovers a history of childhood trauma involving her sister and a demonic stalker which inexorably leads back to ex-con Wilson Miles, who is either the embodiment of evil or simply a vessel for some kind of spooky pagan deity. Maybe he’s both. 

     Shelby Oaks isn’t without its flaws. The premise is full of potential but it runs out of steam in the final third and by the time the ending rolls around we are treading some very overly familiar territory. However, all things considered, it’s a solid debut for Stuckmann. If this were a school report it would probably include the phrase “could do better”, and I have no doubt that given time and a decent budget, he will. At this moment in time, Shelby Oaksis well deserving of cult status and might even become the kind of thing young(er) social media-savvy audiences lap up. I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if it had have turned out to be the sleeper horror hit of 2025.

—C.M. Saunders

Image:  Poster for Shelby Oaks (2024)

DOING THE ROUNDS recently at FrightFest, the Festival of Fantastic Films, etc. has been William Willoughby’s short film, My Best Friends. At FoFF in October, I was lucky enough to see producer David McGillivray, clad in colourful serape, introduce this, in addition to being sat beside him as he chuckled with pride during the showing. And he has every right to do so – though short films only give you a glimmer of sorts, there’s certainly enough here to say that Willoughby is one to watch as director.

     Writer and lead actor Paul Ginns plays Alex, a young man charged with every week bringing home a meal for his gathering of friends – this naturally turns out to be far more sinister than it sounds and through him there nicely emerges the knife edge of sympathy and fierceness. Equally effective are the other cast though, providing a backdrop for the almost narcotic awkwardness and unease the grisly plot sets itself against. An especially nice touch is how Willoughby gives the impression of guerrilla filmmaking; it’s actually very considered, but it makes enjoyably nasty use of the urban setting. Anyone aware of McGillivray’s collaborations with director Pete Walker will quickly understand why he was the seductively ideal choice of producer for this. 

     Its twists may not be unique, exactly, however it’s the bite which counts. And this definitely does. In short, a very nice shot of adrenaline for the horror aficionado, should you get the chance to see it.

—Benjamin Kurt Unsworth

Image: Paul Ginns and Jack Carl in My Best Friends (2025)

THOM AND JUDE Clarendon are a retired couple looking forward to spending more time with their young grandson Dean. The boy’s parents, Allan and Coral, have recently moved into a house in the seaside town of Barnwall, an area with a dark history which has witnessed the deaths of many children over the years, going right back to when the Vikings invaded. Not only that, the new house itself was host to an horrific crime thirty years prior involving a boy and his religious zealot parents. When the grandparents visit their family in Barnwall, it soon becomes apparent that Dean’s imaginary friend is the least of their problems as history appears to be repeating itself.

     Although perhaps on the surface a “possession” or even “haunted house” story, while these are both technically true, there is so much more to this new novel by Ramsey Campbell. At its core it is an intense family drama and warning about the vulnerability of children (as Campbell himself has stated in an interview about the book) and the absolute dangers of religion when taken to extremes. The supernatural lurks in the background, oft glimpsed at, though ambiguity and confusion reign supreme with these elements (what exactly is going on with those strange tics the townsfolk are displaying?), the author refusing to fully reveal the true cause of the familial woes.

     Moving towards the denouement, the story takes some unexpected turns – this unpredictability very much working in its favour and adding even more to the drama, of course. 

     Ultimately, An Echo of Children works best as a stark metaphor for the naivety of children and how this is so very often abused by adults with tragic consequences ensuing, alongside additional commentary on intergenerational rivalries, “gaslighting” and even the ageing process itself. The paranormal and uncanny are there, yes, though the human complexities even more so. 

     A masterful, tense work – as you would expect from the pen of Campbell – with important real-world points being made at the forefront of it all.

— Trevor Kennedy

THREE FRIENDS – JODI, BB and Matt – decide to break into and ransack the long-abandoned Morgan Manor in the hope of claiming valuables for themselves. However, it soon transpires that one of the trio has an ulterior motive, resulting in them collectively becoming embroiled in the affairs of a particularly violent criminal and a purported generational curse relating to a centuries-old witch.

     I think it would be fair to describe Tim Lebbon’s new novel as more of a crime thriller than straight-up horror; however, those “folk” elements – in the fine British tradition – are still there and serve as the basis for the – in a way, quite understandable –motivations of a very memorable main antagonist, and certainly a stand-out villain and character.

     It’s fast-paced, gritty, very well constructed and characterised all round by Lebbon. The author doesn’t mess about, with the action coming quickly and often in a brutal manner. 

     Overall, an enjoyable, slick read from a talent who has been around for a while now and certainly knows what he’s doing with this type of thriller.

— Trevor Kennedy

THIS, THE FIFTH instalment in Morris’s alphabetically sequenced horror anthology series (typically referred to as “The ABC of Horror”) is another top-class addition to a collection surely destined to become as seminally ground-breaking as Ramsey Campbell’s legendary New Terrors, to which Morris refers in his introduction to this volume of original tales.

     These twenty stories commence with a steam-punk morality fable (Poppy Z Brite’s ‘The Peeler’) and conclude with Sarah Langan’s ‘I Miss You Too Much’, a tale of modern witchcraft and possession that makes Hereditary seem cosy! In between, there are stories that are must-reads, hard-reads and a few “WTF did I just read!” tales. 

     Folk horror is well represented by Paul Finch’s ‘Jack-a-Lent’ and ‘The Scarecrow Festival’ by Tim Major, while a more Lovecraftian atmosphere is generated in Laurel Hightower’s ‘Call of the Deep’, Kurt Newton’s ‘The Daughters of Canaan’ and Jim Horlock’s ‘They Eat the Rest’. Those who prefer their horror of a more psychological bent are well served by both Gwyndolyn Kiste’s ‘The Only Face You Ever Knew’ and Aaron Dries’s ‘The Wrong Element’, while reality itself seems to fracture in Andy Davidson’s ‘A House of Woe and Mystery’, Nicholas Royle’s ‘The Entity’ and in Paul Tremblay’s ‘The Note’ (where the process of writing itself collapses, to equally fascinating and frustrating effect). 

     Body horror is well represented too, especially by David J. Schow (who allegedly coined the term “splatterpunk” and whose wonderfully paranoid yet acerbic tale of serial killer conspiracy theories ‘Red Meat Flag’ is my personal favourite, by a narrow margin), and by ‘The Plague’ from Luigi Musolino, ‘Eight Days West of Plethora’ by Verity Holloway and Will Maclean’s ‘The Doppelgänger Bullet’. 

     Finally, those with a preference for a smattering of dark humour to leaven their horror will enjoy Christina Henry’s ‘Nobody Wants to Work Here Anymore’, Tim Lebbon’s ‘Unmarked’, Annie Knox’s charming ‘Mister Reaper’ and P.C. Verrone’s intriguingly titled ‘A Review of “Slime Tutorial: The Musical”’. 

     This is another unmissable addition to an essential collection that is destined to become a staple for discerning fans of the horror short story and here’s to Morris being able to bring us all the way to Z. 

— Con Connolly

Directed by Zach Cregger.

Written by Zach Cregger.

Starring Julia Garner, Josh Brolin, Alden Ehrenreich, Benedict Wong, Austin Abrams, Amy Madigan and more.

WEAPONS IS A film that really thrives on layered storytelling. Its biggest strength lies in how it peels back the same events from different angles, with each character’s perspective slotted in like a puzzle piece until the full, unnerving picture emerges. It’s a clever, slow build that rewards your patience as the dread steadily mounts. 

     Unusually for horror, the story even delivers a kind of happy ending. It’s distinctive in tone and refreshing to leave a film like this with something resembling resolution rather than sheer despair. The twist that it isn’t the teacher but the aunt at the heart of the horror was unexpected, and the way she uses witchcraft to control events is chilling. I especially liked the moment when the boy caught on to what his aunt was doing and turned the ritual back on her to save his parents – a smart and unsettling touch, showing the child stepping up as the ultimate protector.

     That said, the voodoo element wasn’t my favourite. I’m not a big believer in it, and the film never explains where her powers came from. Without a backstory or grounding, it feels like something is missing – a gap in the otherwise careful design. Still, it does create tension, and with hindsight ­­those choices work better when you read them as a metaphor rather than literal witchcraft.

    At its core, Weapons isn’t really about spells at all. It’s about alcoholism. Aunt Gladys represents addiction itself – destructive, consuming and generational. Her possession of the family reflects the way alcohol dependency takes over whole households, passing trauma down through the years. Even the grotesque black sickness the characters spew when possessed recalls the grim reality of alcoholics vomiting after a binge. Seen in this light, the film becomes richer. The teacher and the policeman also struggle with drink, tying the theme together. The director, apparently himself a recovering alcoholic whose father battled the same illness, has confirmed this interpretation, and it gives the story real emotional weight. 

     What I valued most is the mood and anticipation. This kind of horror is unsettling, quietly sinister, and driven by ideas rather than reliant on buckets of gore. Any violence had purpose, and the film was more interested in psychology and themes than splatter. The finale itself was puzzling at first glance, but ultimately, on reflection, it ties things up neatly enough to give closure – a glimmer of hope in a genre that so often ends in despair. What follows is a chase sequence that is utterly bonkers and brilliant at the same time – like Scooby-Doo meets The Exorcist – frantic, eerie and oddly hilarious, all flailing limbs and chaotic energy. It’s a reminder that horror can make you laugh nervously even as it terrifies you.

— Sarah Graven Weir