Today on the site we’re taking a peek inside The House Where Death Lives ed. by Alex Brown, a Speculative YA Fiction anthology that just released yesterday from Page Street! Here’s the gist: 

A dance to the death. A girl who’s just as monstrous as H.H. Holmes. A hallway that’s constantly changing―and hungry. All of these stories exist in the same place―within the frame of a particular house that isn’t bound by the laws of time and space.

Following in the footsteps of dark/horror-filled YA anthologies like His Hideous Heart and Slasher Girls and Monster Boys, and Netflix’s ground-breaking adaptation of The Haunting of Hill House, this YA speculative fiction anthology explores how the permanence of a home can become a space of transition and change for both the inhabitants and the creatures who haunt them.

Each story in the anthology will focus on a different room in the house and feature unique takes on monsters from a wide array of cultural traditions. Whether it’s a demonic Trickster, a water-loving Rusalka, or a horrifying, baby-imitating Tiyanak, there’s bound to be something sinister lurking in the shadows.

Buy it: Bookshop | Amazon

And here’s an inside look at some of the stories!

“Good Morning, Georgia” by Courtney Gould

In “Good Morning, Georgia,” we follow a teen girl named Leah who has been grounded to her attic bedroom for days when she finds that there is an entity in her vanity mirror. There were lots of fun things I wanted to try with the story – playing with perspective, trying to craft a compelling romance in only a few thousand words, taking a swing at haunted houses (which, shockingly, I haven’t done before). But I also wanted to discuss something that crops up in a lot of my work, which is the specificity of lesbian loneliness. Leah is incredibly, painfully lonely, stuck in a house that is somewhat suspended in time and place, and when she begins communicating with “Georgia” the entity (who may or may not be another teen girl) through her mirror, Leah becomes incredibly attached not just to Georgia, but to the feeling of connection with another person. When I was younger, I spent a lot of time isolating myself and communicating solely with online friendships, and as I wrote “Good Morning, Georgia,” the dynamic between Leah and Georgia began to feel very familiar to me. I hope readers identify with Leah’s story, and that the feeling of loneliness and isolation can be something that helps us find community.

“The Phantom’s Waltz” by Rosiee Thor

I’ve always been drawn to the inherent sadness and longing in horror, so with “The Phantom’s Waltz” I wanted to explore the story from the monster’s point of view. The phantom in my story is tethered to the ballroom by an agreement she made with her dance teacher, cursed to haunt the steps of anyone who dances there until she can trick a mortal into taking her place. She’s determined never to inflict her fate on anyone else, but when a teenage girl keeps coming back to practice with her in the ballroom night after night, she’s faced with the choice between a blossoming love with a mortal girl or her own freedom. I drew heavily from my own experiences in a competitive dance environment and the way that the pursuit of perfection can destroy people’s lives and relationships when writing this story. I also wanted to explore the sapphic conundrum of “do I want to be her or do I want her” with a bit of a devil’s bargain in the mix. Dance has always been a big part of my life, but it’s also been a complete horror show at times, so bringing a little queer haunting to the world of dance felt natural–it’s Jojo Siwa’s world and we’re all just dancers in it.

“Let’s Play A Game” by Shelly Page

In “Let’s Play A Game” the main character, Jayde, is having a rough summer. Her parents are going through a divorce, and her girlfriend has been missing for months. Jayde can’t remember the circumstances surrounding her girlfriend’s disappearance or decide which parent she wants to live with. Everything is uncertain. The only sure thing in Jayde’s life is the old house across the street and the voice calling to her from inside. When she finally explores the house, she meets a trickster fae who wants to play a game, but this is no ordinary game. It’s a game that uncovers the memories Jayde has lost, brings to light her fears of being boring, of being used, and ultimately, of not being enough. At its heart, my story is about the expectations put on us by our parents, partners, and peers, and finding the courage to break out of that mold, sometimes with the help of an unlikely friend (or, should I say, fae?).

“What Lies in Silence” by Justine Pucella Winans

My horror story, “What Lies in Silence” came from a place of deep grief and a complicated love of music. All through my childhood, my hero was my nonno–a true Renaissance man, who taught himself a variety of instruments and dug his own cellars for the wine he crafted and sculpted his own fountain from cement. He always supported my writing, the singing I was too afraid to do in front of others, and loved that I was an artist. I lost him before I got to share my writing with the world, because I got to share who I was with the world and with him. This story allowed me to explore that devastation and that love through my protagonist, Luce, a nonbinary teen who comes across a terrifying and vengeful strega in the music room of their house. Expanding upon lore and legend from my own family, I crafted a monster who preys on the lonely and the silent, a manifestation of how I felt when I didn’t have a voice, when the only thing I heard in the music I once loved was the vacuum sound of loss. I hope this story, while creeping readers out, will also show teens that grief may never leave us, it may always be there, lurking and striking at unexpected moments, but that the ones we love are never completely lost, and that despite everything, we live on.

“In Deep” by C.L. McCollum

Home has always included the outdoors for me, and since I grew up swimming in ponds and creeks, adding a swimming hole to our creepy property just made sense. And bringing in a gorgeous (if sinister) mystery girl swimming there for my MC? Well, that’s a little bit of wish fulfillment, I won’t lie. Still, there’s something about murky water and things hidden beneath the surface that resonates with my queer life as a bi girl: there have always been those people both in and out of our queer community who will take advantage of the ambiguity of bi and pan folks. Keeping the secrets of our own heartbreaks can feel like drowning, and I think that’s what I hoped to show with Reece.

“The Shoe” by Alex Brown

As “The Shoe,” begins, Davina is left heartbroken on her front porch after a failed promposal. Dav is convinced that she’ll be alone forever–until a mysterious girl speaks to her from the shadows. Dav and her new friend get to know each other and find that there’s the possibility of something more. If Dav wants to find love, she’ll have to get over the idea of perfection that she’s forced on her new friend. As “The Shoe” progresses, we learn that Dav’s new friend is a manananggal–a monster from Filipino folklore that’s missing her legs–and that she’s the monster in one of the stories Dav’s nanay used to tell her. While Dav is frightened of the truth at first, she learns that the stories she grew up with contained warnings for the wrong people. And that, sometimes, the monsters we’re taught to fear are the ones we need the most.  

Buy it: Bookshop | Amazon

Alex Brown is a Locus Award finalist and a queer Filipino American writer who loves rooting for the Final Girl—especially if she’s a monster. Alex’s YA Horror Comedy debut, Damned If You Do, was a Junior Library Gold Standard Selection and was also placed on Taysha’s Reading List. Alex is the co-editor of Night of the Living Queers and the editor of The House Where Death Lives, a YA Horror anthology that also received the JLG Gold Standard distinction. Alex is also a literary agent and lives in the San Francisco area with her partner and their three chaotic cats.