Raven Tomes writes horror with a mythic pulse—stories steeped in mystery, mayhem, and quiet, mournful malice. Her work lingers in the spaces where ancient things stir, where grief sharpens into violence, and where knowledge itself becomes dangerous. The horror is deliberate, patient, and unconcerned with comfort.
Drawn to folklore, curses, obsession, and the unseen mechanisms of power, Raven’s stories often feel less written than unearthed. They favor atmosphere over reassurance, inevitability over rescue, and endings that leave a mark rather than an explanation. Someone always knows more. Someone always pays the price.
Under the Raven Tomes name, she explores darker themes and sharper edges—fiction that watches back, remembers its readers, and refuses to look away. This is horror meant to be felt, not softened.
Published Works:
Trinkets of Terror
A raven watches. A collection grows.
Each story in Trinkets of Terror centers on an object—small, ordinary, easily overlooked—that becomes a vessel for something far darker. A charm, a keepsake, a forgotten relic. Things once loved, discarded, or taken without thought. Each trinket carries a story, and each story exacts a price.
Across thirteen interconnected tales, horror unfolds quietly and relentlessly: obsession disguised as devotion, grief that festers, curiosity that crosses unseen lines. Some trinkets whisper. Some remember. Some wait patiently to be found again.
The raven is always there—sometimes watching, sometimes guiding, sometimes merely witnessing—as human frailty does the rest.
Trinkets of Terror is a collection of slow-burn dread and sharp, final blows, exploring how the smallest objects can hold the heaviest consequences—and how once something is taken, it is never truly gone.
The Knock at the Door
A woman alone at night hears a knock she wasn’t expecting—and one she knows better than to answer. The sound returns again and again, patient and deliberate, growing more intimate with each refusal. It knows her routines. It knows her fears. It knows what she lost.
As the night stretches on, the knock becomes less a sound and more a presence, blurring the line between memory, guilt, and something far worse waiting on the other side of the door. Every warning she’s ever been taught tells her not to open it—but the voice behind the knock insists it already has.
The Knock at the Door is a slow-burn psychological horror about grief, boundaries, and the terrifying realization that some things don’t need permission to enter—only to be acknowledged
