Bob @ Beauty in Ruins

The young couple with the dog. The once distraught driver. The old man at the bus stop. The gang of kids on the field.

Even the bent and twisted young lad smeared across the tarmac outside his house, bubbles of blood blew from his nose as the breath left his punctured lungs, eyes fixed wide, yet remaining as calm as a stoned Buddha, despite his probable broken spine and multiple fractures.

All of them were staring blankly at the house.

And so begins the creepy, darkly humorous, Starers by Nathan Robinson.

With a well-intentioned dad, a slightly depressed mother, an angry daughter, and a wise-cracking uncle, the Keenes are just your average family. Nothing special, nothing too embarrassing, nothing horrific. You probably wouldn't look twice if you were to walk past their house, but that's exactly what thousands of ordinary people do - stop and stare, for no apparent reason. If that doesn't creep you out, then I can only imagine it's because you have no doors or windows in your home, and have never felt that tickle of dread that slips down your neck when you feel like you're being watched.

This is creepy, Twilight Zone-inspired, zombie-inspired horror here, folks. It's the kind of horror that builds slowly, wearing away your defenses, as it gets under your skin. The strangers outside aren't violent, but they're there, more of them by the hour, crowding in closer and closer, without a single word said about why they find you so worthy of their mindless, vacant, yet somehow accusing stares. You begin feeling claustrophobic in your own home. Your family begins looking to one another for answers . . . and blame. More than that, you begin dehumanizing the crowd outside, as your fear struggles to make monsters out of them, in order to justify your fears. Eventually, you just have to get out, but if they won't move, if they won't let you out, at what point does your violence become a rational, even necessary response?

Dark, creepy, and oh-so-very gory, this is also a book that's often laugh-out-loud funny. Such black (and sometimes corny) humour should feel out of place, but it helps to remind the reader of just how absurd the situation is. Kudos to Robinson for being able to manage that balancing act, and for knowing just when to alleviate some of the tension, without denying the story its unsettling heart. Definitely worth a read.