Borrowed Bones
Winona Morris
Independently published (June 22, 2026)
Reviewed by Nora B. Peevy

 At first glance, my review of Borrowed Bones appears to be about a man, Russell, grieving for his wife,  Liza, but it soon becomes much more as supernatural events start happening on his property and he is visited often by a beast with Liza’s voice. The beast looks otherworldly, but it smells and speaks like his wife and eventually, becomes a balm for his grief where he protects the creature from the villagers willing to hunt it down and shoot it for the revenge of people in the town. In a sense, it has a Frankenstein theme of being in love with the monster, but this monster is dangerous and doesn’t understand what it is doing, only that it “borrows bones” to please the one person showing it any affection.

The raw emotion of grief spilled across these pages is what makes this story work. Without that, the story would be a flop. Grief in its own way, becomes a character in the novel, ever present and heavily felt with every page turned and every memory retold on the pages. The tree itself is also a central character too. Without the tree, the plot would not be able to move forward because Russell would not have all the memories he shares with his readers and the connection with his wife and her beloved necklace recovered from the grave.

I read this book in two days. I had to know what the creature was. Morris never really explains what they creature is, which isn’t disappointing, it makes the story more intriguing. The only thing we learn is that it is a creature born from someone’s extreme grief, which is a romantic theme, when you think about it. That you could create a living monster of your own grief from the love you felt for your beloved.

If you read Morris’s first novel, and I certainly hope you do, you should also check out her first collection of short stories, On Darkened Wings and Other Short Horrors. Morris’s strength in her writing is her character development. She puts a character you can relate to in a normal setting which quickly becomes horrifying. It’s a wonderful talent to be applauded. If you are looking for other books that deal with horror and grief here are a few suggestions: Bag of Bones by Stephen King, The Fisherman by John Langan, and Our Wives Under the Sea by Julie Armfield. I hope you’ll go out and purchase Borrowed Bones by Winona Morris. Her work deserves to stand next to these authors.

Voices of Rage
Andy Holberry
Independently published (October 26, 2024)
Reviewed by Nora B. Peevy

When I first started reading this short collection of werewolf stories, I was skeptical that there was going to be enough variety because the first two seemed so similar, but then as I settled further in, I fell in love with the character Emily in Adopted who was found as a toddler living with wolves and has known nothing all her life but an orphanage. She is adopted by two wonderful parents, but her real mother is out there hunting for her and refuses to give up her daughter, a mother’s love for her daughter being the strongest bond that cannot be broken. And it turns out that all of Emily’s eccentricities over the years are not strange nuances, but perfectly normal, like her mother. Holberry does such a good job writing about the bond between the mother and daughter that I really felt for the mother and didn’t see her as a villain in this story, even though she was bloodthirsty and wanted vengeance.

Bloodthirsty was also a theme seen in Big Bad Wolf, another favorite of mine, which took an old fairy tale and twisted it on its head twice. I loved the ending and found it very clever indeed. That big bad wolf definitely got what was coming to him, justice, which is one of three common themes radiating throughout all of  Holberry’s work – truth, justice, and some sense of closure for the victims, who more often than not are the werewolves and NOT the humans in the stories. This is another aspect of Holberry’s writing I appreciated.

Another favorite story of his was Lost, where the young pups of the village must venture out beyond the village wall to test their mettle and prove they are now young men ready to serve amongst the village to protect everyone in it. Lee and Jax are best friends, but only one of them comes home after a harrowing adventure, which brough a tear to my eye. The quick action fighting scenes are another skill Holberry holds in his back pocket. None of his fights are slow. The pacing is on point. And the fight descriptions are beautifully choreographed.

The last story in the book, The Fight in the Dog is my favorite because it shows the werewolf fighting to win back its humanity and not stay a beast. He refuses to give in to the blood lust of his master, who has been making money off him in shows similar to those in the times of the gladiators. In all of Holberry’s stories, the werewolves are not just bloodthirsty beasts. They live by a code and have their own sense of honor and duty as well. This is something admirable and not seen in all werewolf literature, where a lot of authors just choose to let the beast out and there is blood bath after blood bath until the terrible, Bid Bad Wolf is finally put down.

I think this collection was well-thought out. There is high-packed action along tender human moments that lends it to being more than just a creature feature collection. These aren’t your average predators. This werewolf collection has something for everyone.

Andy Holberry is a member of The Butchered Writers, a group that writes all genres of horror. If you would like to check out more of his work, you can go to thebutcheredwriters.com.

On Darkened Wings and Other Short Horrors
Winona Morris
Independently published (November 27, 2024)

This is Winona Morris’s first collection and I’m hoping to see more from her. Between these pages are fifteen stories that could happen anywhere, which is part of the genius of her storytelling like Stephen King. Each story starts out so normally and then goes dark very fast and by the end, I’m left wondering how what happened was allowed to happen. The title story On Darkened Wings is perhaps my favorite for it ruthlessly illustrates how barbaric human beings can be when we find someone that is not like us. The poor Nephilim never had a chance in the story and died a terrible, painful death at the hands of “supposed” Christians, which brings into question who is truly holy and pure and who is not? I really identified with the Nephilim and was horrified in the way he died.

My next favorite was The Grass is Lava. It brought back some nostalgia for the game I played as a kid, but then it took a dark and twisted turn and there was no going back for any of the characters. They either had consciouses or no moral ineptitudes. And that’s kind of what I feel I would learn if the world was slowly ending like this. I wouldn’t want to be eaten to death by backyard plants. What a horrible way to go! *shivers*

If that wasn’t bad enough, there’s the lady who accidentally cut off parts of her fingers and they get cooked into her husband’s chili. Turns out her husband really has a taste for meat and wants seconds, which she wasn’t prepared for and a fight ensues. The fear of being eaten is one of the oldest for mankind and for good reason. It kept us alive from large predators when we had no way to defend ourselves, but to run away. But does this lady really get away? Even if she survives, she will live with the horror of that night in her mind for the rest of her existence. Talk about dark and twisted. Loved it!

Then there was the dark and very short story, She Loved Him Dearly So… in which the witch refuses to give up the man that she loves to another. Wait until you see the spell she puts on him towards the end. This just goes to show how dark and vengeful a human heart can be.

The rest of the stories in this collection are equally dark, funny, and twisted. I assure you. The kept me turning page after page quickly to see what happens next. Winona Morris is The Mistress of Body Horror and I’m waiting to see what else is sitting in the dark recesses of her mind to be spilled out onto the page. Waiting and hoping I get to read it soon. Please let it be soon!

Dark Roots

Sheldon Higdon’s Dark Roots is a gripping, atmospheric thriller that weaves 1980s small-town terror with present-day personal demons in a taut, page-turning narrative. Set against the rust-belt backdrop of Erie and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, the novel opens on a chilling Halloween night in 1989 when young Travis Fletcher, dressed as Superman, and his mother are lured by a wolf-masked stranger in a red wagon. What follows is a brutal abduction and murder that shatters lives and plants seeds of darkness destined to bloom decades later.

In the present, journalism professor Benjamin Cole grapples with his strained relationship with girlfriend Aisha, who longs for marriage and children while he clings to emotional distance and his loyal English Mastiff, Hogarth. Parallel threads follow Detective Eddie Lane, a veteran cop navigating Oakmont’s quiet crimes and his own loneliness, as an old case resurfaces with haunting echoes. Higdon masterfully shifts between timelines, building suspense through vivid, lived-in details: the crack of a crowbar, the metallic tang of blood, the ache of unspoken regrets.

Higdon excels at flawed, deeply human characters—Travis’s lingering trauma, Benjamin’s fear of commitment, Eddie’s understated weariness—without ever sacrificing momentum. The prose is sharp and cinematic, capturing the grit of blue-collar Pennsylvania with lines that linger: the way autumn leaves crunch underfoot or the hollow echo of a child’s scream. Themes of inherited violence, the weight of “roots,” and the thin line between protection and control pulse beneath the surface, lending the story a psychological depth reminiscent of early Stephen King or Dennis Lehane.

Clocking in at over fifty brisk chapters, the novel moves with relentless energy while allowing room for quiet, character-driven moments. Higdon delivers white-knuckle tension and genuine heart. Fans of character-rich thrillers will devour it in one sitting. Dark Roots sinks its teeth in early and refuses to let go.

Eye Contact

Selene dePackh’s Eye Contact is a haunting, fiercely original collection of interconnected horror stories that delivers visceral chills and unflinching social commentary. Set against the backdrop of the CareWell Behavioral Analysis and Remediation Institute, the book follows the lingering souls of neurodivergent children trapped in a liminal afterlife while exposing the real-world cruelties of institutional “treatment.”

Narrated in part by Rowena (“Ro”), a sharp-witted nine-year-old who died after enduring forced compliance protocols, the stories shift between the living and the dead with seamless grace. Ro introduces us to her friends Sybille and Miles, fellow “wanderers” navigating this strange realm where time bends and the Abyss hungers for indifference. Through tales like “Passed Pawn” and “The Red King,” dePackh immerses readers in the institute’s sterile corridors, where orderlies grapple with guilt, therapists enforce shock harnesses and “quiet hands,” and children like Rowena are punished for using tablets instead of spoken words. The horror is multilayered: psychological torment from the staff’s ableist rigidity collides with supernatural dread—a shadowy Broker offering dark bargains, revenant clusters observing the living, and the cold indifference of the Void itself.

DePackh’s prose is atmospheric and poetic, rich with striking imagery that blurs the boundaries between the corporeal and the ethereal. Descriptions of frost-rimed woods, glowing-eyed coywolves, and the metallic tang of blood feel both grounded and otherworldly, heightening the sense of cosmic unease. Characters are drawn with profound empathy: Brian, the conflicted orderly haunted by dreams and guilt; the clinical yet fragile Dr. Fallowfield; and Rowena herself, whose fierce intelligence and quiet defiance make her a compelling guide through both realms. The author, writing from an autistic perspective, infuses the narrative with authenticity that transforms personal pain into universal resonance, critiquing normalization therapies without ever feeling didactic.

What elevates Eye Contact is its innovative structure and fearless heart. The linked stories build like a slow-unraveling tapestry, where earthly abuses echo into the afterlife, offering no easy redemption but moments of tentative connection and resistance. At once unsettling and deeply moving, this is literary horror at its finest: intelligent, emotionally raw, and impossible to shake. Fans of Shirley Jackson will find much to admire in dePackh’s bold vision. A standout that lingers like a shadowy figure on the edge of vision.