Gothic fiction is a literary genre that originated in the 18th century and is characterized by its dark, mysterious, and supernatural themes. It typically involves an atmosphere of horror, suspense, and terror, and often features haunted houses, ghosts, vampires, and other supernatural beings. The genre has been popular for centuries and continues to be so today, with many contemporary authors drawing inspiration from the classic gothic novels.
The gothic genre is often associated with the works of authors such as Mary Shelley, Bram Stoker, and Edgar Allan Poe, whose stories have become classics of the genre. Frankenstein, Dracula, and The Fall of the House of Usher are just a few examples of the enduring tales of horror and terror that have captured the imaginations of readers for centuries. While the genre has evolved over time, the core themes of horror, the supernatural, and the mysterious have remained constant.
One of the most notable aspects of gothic fiction is its ability to tap into our deepest fears and anxieties. Whether it's the fear of the unknown, the terror of the supernatural, or the horror of the macabre, the gothic genre has the power to transport readers to a world of darkness and terror. Whether you're a longtime fan of the genre or new to the world of gothic fiction, there is no denying the enduring appeal of these haunting and unforgettable tales.
Below, we’ve collected five of the best gothic novels and short story collections available from Next Chapter, as of 03 / 2023. We hope you like the stories on this page - and if you do, please take a moment to leave the author a review :) Don’t agree with our choices? Leave a comment below and let us know what books are your favorites in the medieval fiction genre!
Books featured on this page
Dark Capital (Tales From The Dark Past Book 3) by Helen Susan Swift
The Eternals (The Eternals Book 1) by Richard M. Ankers
Britannia Unleashed by Richard M. Ankers
Book excerpt
He sweltered, but Belvedere refused to remove anything other than his jacket; it wasn’t the done thing. His one concession, rolling up his shirt sleeves after first checking nobody was around to witness it — old habits and all that.
He scampered through the trees, more squirrel than man, making great haste. Not that Belvedere needed to move fast, he was, after all, moving within the confines of a dream, albeit a hot and sweaty one, more that it was just his way. He had always been a man of progression, a leap before you look kind of fellow. He knew nothing else.
So it was, our hero followed the broken path of whatever beast had forged it. The destruction headed in the general direction of the gleaming spire he had spied and that was good enough for him. Plus, although he would not care to admit it, the odd flashes of daylight the damage afforded held a certain reassurance in a world otherwise black as pitch. However, Belvedere was no fool and made certain to remain within the confines of the absolute shade. One look to the mighty-sized footprints made quite sure of that.
Dark Capital (Tales From The Dark Past Book 3) by Helen Susan Swift
Book excerpt
There is something eternally fascinating about a fire. I don’t know what it is, although I suspect it is a memory from our distant ancestors when we huddled in caves with only flames keeping us safe from nighttime predators. My compulsion to stare into the fire certainly increased tenfold after I moved into the house off the West Bow. Evening after evening, I fought the shadows of my mind by crouching close to the heat and staring into the orange flames, as if I were a part of the phenomenon that Ruth had created from sticks, paper and coal.
Each night the fire drew me closer, so I could imagine myself standing atop the lumps of black coal as the flames licked around me, with the heat building and people gathered around to watch me gasp and writhe and scream at the unbearable pain. Each night the feeling grew more intense as I burned within the flames, with the stink and crackle of burning hair first, then the searing agony as my skin scorched and my eyeballs melted. I was surrounded by fire, twisting, pleading for mercy that never came, slowly burning to the pitiless interest of the crowd.
Ghost Song by Mark L’Estrange
Book excerpt
Once Jonathan informed Meryl that he had decided to confide in her, she excused herself for a moment so that she could pour herself a drink, say goodnight to her staff, and thank the musicians for playing such a marvellous set.
Jonathan sipped his drink, nervously, and watched while Mike showed the bar staff out and locked the main door behind them.
The band finished their drinks and walked over to the bar to leave their empty glasses.
As Meryl showed them to the door, Jonathan called out to the lead singer.
“Young lady,” he stood up to catch her attention. “I was wondering if I might have a quick word with you before you leave?”
The girl smiled and walked over to the old man’s table, closely followed by the rest of the band. “Yes,” she said, cheerfully, “what can I do for you?”
Meryl suspected that Jonathan was about to ask the young singer about her encore, so she came back over and stood next to the old man.
Moribund Tales by Erik Hofstatter
Book excerpt
I was blind when I woke. The tips of my fingers explored the surrounding ground. It was humid. The smooth grass tickled my palms. There was a peculiar aroma in the air; a fusion of composting leaves and fresh rain. The moist earth beneath my bones indicated that I was in a garden, park or a forest, although I heard no other voices.
I tried to stand, but my head collided with a solid surface. Cursing, I raised my sightless eyes towards the heavens and touched the protruding obstacle. It was a tree.
My mind possessed no recollection of how I had arrived here. Crawling on my hands and knees, I examined the nearby area, searching vigorously for possible clues. Perhaps there was an empty whiskey bottle which would explain my amnesia. Perhaps I got drunk and passed out?
I stood up from the terra firma and massaged my aching scalp. I inhaled deeply, the jagged oxygen slicing through my lungs like a knife through butter.
My surroundings were deprived of life, except for me and the tree. Perhaps even the tree was dead? My eyes could not tell. There was no other sound. No birds, traffic or rustling leaves. I was alone, it seemed.
The Eternals (The Eternals Book 1) by Richard M. Ankers
Book excerpt
Linka swept into the ballroom like a breath of fresh air, whilst I lingered on the balcony a dark pollutant. The masked guests parted before her, which allayed my earlier paranoia, until she came to a halt in the middle of the arena. There she swivelled in the fashion of a spinning top and presented her arm. The masked ensemble all looked my way.
I'd never been one for undue attention, so that corridor of guests caused a degree of trepidation, but only a degree. I took one large gulp of night air, removed my coat, folded it over the balcony rail, and then strode into the ballroom. Head held back, black, silk shirt billowing about my arms, I stood out amidst the glamour like a brooding shadow. My silver cross, the one keepsake from before my parents' deaths, slapped against the bare skin of my chest. It was a deliberate act of rebellion against those who so abhorred the symbol even if I didn't fully appreciate why. Reflecting the candlelight like a star the necklace provided a sense of empowerment over the masses as they gasped and groaned. What could they say? What could they do? Nothing. After all, I was about to dance with a princess for the second time in twenty-four hours.
“My lady,” I said on approach and bowed to my hostess.
“Monsieur,” said she, mimicking her sister's French accent.
There we have it: the best gothic fiction from Next Chapter, as of 03/2023. We hope you enjoy the stories - and if you do, please leave a comment below, or a review in Goodreads or your favorite store. It would mean a lot to us!
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