The best creepy books to read in that brief twilight period between bed and sleep

I’m an avid reader of the works of Daphne Du Maurier. Of all her works, I particularly enjoyed the macabre tale of The Apple Tree. It struck a note with me, presenting the reader with the possibility of interpreting the events recounted either as being supernatural or psychological. I'm left asking myself if the mind of the protagonist is disturbed by the heavy burden of guilt or if it is the work of his dead wife seeking a terrible revenge? This resonates with my own conflict between spiritual sceptic and dreamer.

I was first acquainted with the works of MR James through the BBC Christmas Eve dramas, though I did not note his name. In later life while reading from a collection of supernatural stories by various authors I recognised an odd familiarity with a tale that centered on what at first appeared to be an unremarkable etching. 

As a child I recall being so terrified by an illustration, drawn in the manner of an etching, of the hideous witch in Hansel and Gretal in a book of fairy tales that I refused to sleep in my bedroom in its company, even though the book was firmly shut. Hardly surprising that the idea of a picture changing in the way recounted in the Mezzotint would resonate with me

A classic read which has been made into two movies, in my opinion the best being the first, faithful to the novel and in atmospheric black and white. The house is purported to be haunted and we see it through the eyes of the protagonist; never quite sure if she is projecting her confused mental state or if it is indeed haunted. I have always believed it more likely that hauntings are the product of the individual’s imagination and their mental state. The idea that the peculiarities of particular architecture can heighten the psychological rather than spiritual senses seems to me a logical explanation for perceived hauntings.

This short story reminds me of a disused railway line that my siblings and I took to be a playground when we lived in a small village in North Wales. All that remained of the route was the track ballast. The route was some two miles long and at one point cut into the hillside before entering a long dark tunnel. It was easy to imagine a steam train from bygone years appearing in the mouth of the tunnel, much as the engine that brought the doom of the signalman in Dickens’s tale. 

The only book I've listed which claims to be a true story. My father owned several volumes written by Harry Price and by far the most interesting to me as a boy was the story of Borley Rectory. Though I now view Price’s narrative through more skeptical eyes, it still sends a chill down my spine when I read his claims of ghostly writing and sightings of the mysterious nun walking on the moonlit grounds. Alas that the building has long disappeared…I'm certain that I would have been drawn to it. Thinking about it, perhaps it is better that it has gone…I may be a cynical observer, but irrational fear of the unknown lives just as actively in the sceptic as it does in the convinced.