The Empty House and Other Ghost Stories

I’ll admit, I went into *The Empty House* expecting the usual Victorian ghost-story tropes—creaky floorboards, sheeted specters, that sort of thing. What I got instead was far more disturbing: horror that feels *alive*, like the stories themselves are breathing down your neck. Hugh Ross’s narration is a huge part of why this works. His voice is smooth, almost soothing, which makes the sudden shifts into terror all the more jarring. Take ‘The Wendigo,’ for example—a tale about a hunting party stalked by something inhuman. Ross’s pacing is deliberate, almost plodding, mirroring the characters’ exhaustion as they trudge through the snow. Then, when the horror strikes, his voice doesn’t scream—it *drops*, like he’s too stunned to react. It’s brilliant. That said, this isn’t a collection for listeners who crave constant action. Blackwood’s horror is patient, sometimes *too* patient. ‘The Empty House’ itself drags in the middle, with long descriptions of the protagonist’s nervous state that could’ve been tighter. And while Ross’s restrained style suits most stories, his monotone in ‘The Listener’ nearly put me to sleep—ironic, given the story’s premise. Still, the payoffs are worth it. ‘The Willows,’ a novella-length tale about two men trapped on a Danube island, is one of the most effectively creepy things I’ve ever heard. The production is clean, with no distracting background noise, letting Blackwood’s prose—and Ross’s unsettling calm—do the work. If you love horror that’s more *dread* than *death*, this is a must-listen. Just maybe not at night. Or alone.