My favorite books with a lurking horror preying on relatable protagonists

In a Celtic-feeling village the reader follows the story of an absolutely ordinary protagonist, Idris. He’s a poet who chooses great peril in order to discover the truth behind a growing despair plaguing the land.

It is the end of times, according to all the oracles. But Idris refuses to accept annihilation’s cold embrace. As the villagers scrape by despite sickness and blighted crops, the bard goes on a search for hope. In the haunted, banshee-infested moor, he discovers the door on half-bald hill.

I really loved this story because it was all my favorite things—a bleak, earthy landscape with a sharp sense of foreboding haunting every page, and in sharp relief, a group of very real persons, each fostering a flame of hope despite overwhelming burdens and gnawing griefs. 

One of the most unique stories I’ve ever read, A Treason of Thorns is about an alternate England where magic permeates the land, held in check by several great houses, all of which are possessed by eldricht spirits.

One of these great houses has been promised a Keeper, one who will give her life to serve it, her body slowly poisoned by its power. Violet isn’t afraid of her precious Burleigh House. At least, not until she falls in love and must choose, for the first time, whether she really can put the house first. In the meantime, Burleigh is falling to pieces and the King is bent on its destruction.

A truly thrilling, fast-paced story of risk and daring on the part of a iron-willed young woman who has everything to lose. 

Anathema is a 1910 Russian play about a man who inherits great wealth and is haunted by a manipulative spirit called Anathema.

Although David’s intention of using his wealth to help others is altruistic, Anathema gradually leads him down a path of damnation. This play makes you think deeply about the meaning behind each character’s dialogue. You don’t necessarily trust what is said because some characters have hidden motives.

The lurking terror is not, as you might think, the antagonizing Anathema. Instead, the play possesses a uniquely impending sense of doom as David’s life comes to its end and Anathema is the one begging for truth, leaving us wondering how many souls he will mislead in his search for the inverse of damnation.

Something about the cover called to me from an airport bookshelf—I just knew it was about grief.

Using the reminisce of a 40-year-old attending a funeral, this story illustrates the strangeness of human connection and its unassuming power. Much of the book is a mourning of lost memory, lost friendships, and lost innocence as time has carried the boy he was to the unfamiliar, sterile territory of middle age.

He had somehow forgotten encountering otherworldly evil and watching horrors unfold around him. He’d nearly lost his life. Apart from the sacrifice of one special someone, his story would have ended at age 11. And he’d forgotten.

The antagonist of this story is incredibly creepy, but that’s not the chord that struck deepest for me. It was the stinging, metallic smell of grief that soaks every page that made this a story I’ll never forget. 

What if a Florida farm town was overrun by anthropomorphic swamp monsters and the only people standing between them and the townspeople was an ancient legend with a rusty sword and a twelve-year-old boy?

Charlie Reynolds has two dads and both are good at football, but one was the reason his mom left Florida years ago and his step-dad is the reason they’re moving back. Now Charlie must prove himself to the new football team and grapple with his dad’s abandonment, all while escaping the weird creatures crawling out of the swamp. He struggles to know just what it means to be himself and to be brave at the same time.

I enjoyed this modern Beowulf retelling with its weird monsters, family drama, and incredibly high stakes. I could never anticipate what was going to happen next.