Why Horror Is Better When It Whispers

When people think of horror, they often imagine screams, gore, and terrifying monsters lurking under the bed, ready to pounce. But the most unsettling kind of fear doesn’t yell or make loud noises to announce itself.

It whispers, creeping into your thoughts.

That’s the space I write from and thrive in. My books, The Unknown and The Unspoken, aren’t filled with predictable slasher tropes or obvious, in-your-face threats. The horror in these stories creeps in like fog — quiet, subtle, all-encompassing, and impossible to shake, no matter how hard you try to ignore it.

Why? Because:

• The mind fills in the blanks.
  What you don’t show is often far scarier than what you do. The unknown, left to the imagination, lets fear grow unchecked in a way that no visual could ever match.

• Reality is more fragile than we think.
  A knock at the wrong time, a sentence you didn’t mean to say, or a memory that doesn’t feel quite like your own can shatter your sense of normalcy. That’s the kind of fear that sneaks into your everyday moments and refuses to leave.

• Whispers get under your skin.
  They’re intimate, unsettling, and can feel as though they’re meant specifically for you. And once you hear them, they linger long after, refusing to let you forget.

If you’ve ever finished a story and found yourself staring into the dark corner of your room, unable to shake the feeling of being watched… you know exactly what I mean.

Some horror begs to be solved, demanding answers and closure.
Mine just wants to be witnessed, leaving you with questions you can’t escape.