Six spooky short stories just in time for summer
Who is this who is coming? – M. R. James, Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad
Spring has sprung and we’re sauntering towards summer and yet…
As the days grow longer, I find myself wanting to draw the curtains and shrink back into the shadows.
This is the time of year in which I consume the most spine-chilling content, not that my time spent in fictional graveyards is particularly low at any time of year. After all, Midnight Mass is literally made to be watched in the run-up to Easter, I first saw Midsommar appropriately on a balmy summer evening, and the iconic IT is set very explicitly in the summer holidays.
So, with that in mind, here are my six spooky short story suggestions, ideal for a skin-shivering quick read under a parasol…
Don’t Look Now by Daphne du Maurier (1971)
Don’t Look Now has been immortalised in film with Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie and the film is, of course, great, but the original short story…
It’s full of grief and paranoia as predestination tightens around the protagonist like a noose. The foreshadowing is incredible and du Maurier’s Venice is a woozy experience, footsteps echoing over otherwise silent bridges.
Rebecca might be du Maurier’s Gothic masterpiece, but her short stories are also peerless, so I also recommend The Breakthrough and A Border-Line Case from the same collection.
Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad by M. R. James (1904)
Again known for its adaptation, Whistle is a classic M. R. James ghost story: an academic unwittingly unearths something he shouldn’t and the artefact brings some kind of spectral misfortune upon the usually single, middle-aged man.
However, what sets Whistle (and its adaptation) apart from James’ other similar works is the utter terror the academic experiences once darkness falls. If you’ve ever experienced night terrors or sleep paralysis, well…
Pick your moment to read this. Wisely.
As I said, a lot of James stories are very similar, but my other favourites include The Mezzotint, Lost Hearts, and Number 13 (all of which also have adaptations).
Ringing the Changes by Robert Aickman (1955)
This is one of those stories that really cemented the idea of seaside towns being spooky places in my mind as a child. Yes, my parents let me read Aickman. Here, a honeymooning couple check into a guesthouse, but then later that evening, the bells start ringing and the sea begins to give up its dead…
While the main characters survive, we know that they’ll be forever changed by the night they’ve experienced – not unlike Brad and Janet in the Rocky Horror Show.
St. Austin Friars by Robert Westall (1982)
Another one that I was exposed to as a child by a mother who also loves spooky stories, St. Austin Friars feels, at first glance, quite provincial. After all, it was only published in the Eighties and is set then too. The protagonist is the new local vicar, young and eager to please as he goes about his normal duties…
And then someone wants to arrange a funeral.
A month in advance.
Much is left unsaid, but what the vicar experiences is both scary and seductive – another protagonist who’ll never be the same again.
The Monkey’s Paw by W. W. Jacobs (1902)
The Monkey’s Paw is the ultimate example of being careful what you wish for and has been much-imitated. For example, the episode of Buffy in which Dawn tries to bring back their dead mother and we just see the silhouette of something coming towards the door? That is literally The Monkey’s Paw.
It’s a cautionary tale full of misunderstanding and tragedy, culminating in the family’s realisation that not everything can be undone. Like the very best of ghost stories, we never see the true horror that is knocking at the door, leaving it to our imagination.
The Signal-Man by Charles Dickens (1866)
Oldest but certainly not least, The Signal-Man has definitely been eclipsed by A Christmas Carol in terms of Dickens’ supernatural oeuvre. However, the slow unravelling of the signalman’s story lets the tension build until, of course, it ends in tragedy.
Full disclosure: the story is great, but I strongly, strongly recommend the television adaptation (1976) with Denholm Elliott as the signalman. He plays it just right: we see glimpses of the once-jovial man underneath the barely restrained torment, while the use of sound is stunningly effective.
A warning to the curious from Coldharbour
I do love long-form work, obviously, but the spine-chillers that have stayed with me have been these short stories. They’re often set in what feel like quite mundane settings, often at some lonely point along the English coast, and then some kind of inexplicable terror gets unleashed. I’ve tried to infuse this sense of creeping dread into Coldharbour too: there are desolate cliffs, a spit that stretches far out into the chill, churning waves, and a half-abandoned promenade where a café is waiting for a new waitress…
