Other Mommy, Stay Out

I just finished Incidents Around the House by Josh Malerman and I feel like I need to sit in a well-lit room and snuggle a cat for a while.

This book.

THIS BOOK.

It’s like someone cracked open the childhood part of my brain where shadows in closets and weird parental silences lived and just… let them loose.

I don’t even know why I love horror.

I mean, I do, but I also don’t.

It’s not the gore or the jump scares or even the monsters. It’s the feeling—that creeping dread, the slow unraveling of what you thought was safe. But also, I think it’s because I know it’s not real. Like, I can close the book, turn off the movie, take the headphones out, and boom—back to reality.

It’s safe fear.

Contained fear.

But then there are stories like this one, where the horror isn’t just the thing in the closet (though, yes, “Other Mommy” is nightmare fuel), it’s the family.

The silence.

The emotional neglect.

The way the adults are too wrapped up in their own mess to notice the kid is literally being haunted.

And not just haunted—targeted.

Like, “Can I go inside your heart?” What kind of question is that??

That’s not just creepy, that’s existentially terrifying.

And it’s told from the POV of an eight-year-old girl named Bela, which makes everything hit harder. Because she’s trying to make sense of this thing that keeps asking to go inside her heart, while also watching her mom spiral and her dad pretend everything’s fine.

And you’re just there with her, feeling helpless and small and scared.

I think the scariest part is how much of it could be real.

Not the supernatural stuff, but the emotional stuff. The way kids absorb everything. The way they notice when something’s off, even if no one tells them. That’s what gets me.

That’s what sticks.

It’s funny—someone once said zombie movies are like survival documentaries, and I took that to heart.

“If this happens to me, I want to do what this person did because they SURVIVE.”

And I think that’s part of why I read horror too. It’s not just about the fear—it’s about watching people face it. Watching them try. Even if they don’t win.

Even if they’re eight years old and the monster lives in their closet and their mom smells like someone else’s cologne.

Anyway.

I don’t know what this post is. A review? A therapy session? A warning? Maybe all three.

Just… read Incidents Around the House if you want to feel like your childhood fears were valid and also maybe you should call your inner child and tell her she’s safe now.

And maybe leave the closet light on tonight.