Jess-Belle

I’ll admit, I didn’t expect *Jess-Belle* to gut me in under an hour. Earl Hamner’s script is a masterclass in tension—every line of dialogue feels like a step closer to the cliff’s edge. Jess-Belle isn’t a heroine; she’s a woman scorned, and her single-minded pursuit of Billy—who’s as shallow as a rain puddle—makes her both pitiable and terrifying. The real star, though, is the narration. Stacy Keach’s voice is like aged whiskey: smooth but with a burn. He sells Billy’s smugness so well you’ll want to slap him through the speakers. Meanwhile, Stephnie Weir’s witch is *chilling*—less cackling hag, more your aunt who knows where the bodies are buried. Her delivery turns what could’ve been a cartoonish villain into something far more unsettling: a woman who’s seen this story play out a hundred times before. That said, the pacing *almost* stumbles in the final act. The resolution feels abrupt, like Hamner trusted the audience to fill in the blanks a little too much. And while the sound design is atmospheric, I wished for more—just a hint of a banjo twang or a wind howl to deepen the setting. Still, these are quibbles. The audiobook’s brevity is its strength; it’s a knife twist of a story, not a drawn-out saga. If you love *The Monkey’s Paw* but wish it had more Appalachian flavor—or if you’ve ever nursed a grudge that felt like a living thing—this’ll haunt you. Just don’t listen before bed.