Fiction Friday: Midwestern Gothic

“Midwestern Gothic” is a chilling collection of interconnected tales that unearth the haunted, blood-soaked soul of the American Heartland.

There is something so intrusive about a cursed land. And I don’t mean cursed in the supernatural sense, where a Boogeyman or some demonic entity haunts with impunity for no other reason than to taint the souls of the living. I’m speaking of being cursed in the sense that the blood spilled upon this land will keep it forever fertile.

Enter Scott Thomas, a writer grown from midwestern soil.

Scott Thomas is an accomplished writer. He’s credited as co-creator on numerous shows that aim for a young demographic (Raven’s Home, Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja, Malibu Rescue), has written made-for-TV movies, and has written many teleplays. So, how did he end up on the pages of a horror publisher?

Well, Scott’s a spooky kid, just like us. Credits I intentionally veiled include scribe work on R.L. Stine’s The Haunting Hour and developing the SyFy series based on the legendary George A. Romero’s zombie classic, Day of the Dead.

Scott has also found success in print with his first two novels, Kill Creek and Violet, both horror fiction.

Now, he’s back for more with a collection of connected tales that summon his Heartland roots.

Scott hails from Coffeyville, Kansas, a city in Montgomery County just a stone’s throw from Oklahoma. When people say they come from “middle America,” Scott can actually claim it to be true. Coffeyville is the “default center starting point of Google Maps.”

Scott writes from this place, now figuratively, but he’s good enough that you don’t have to reside in a place like Coffeyville, which covers less than eight square miles and houses less than ten thousand people, for his stories to resonate.

So, let’s break down Scott’s latest book, Midwestern Gothic, with a closer look at each story. I’ll be careful to reveal as few spoilers as possible so we can entice you to go buy it for yourself and discover the horrors within!

The Door in the Field

The title evokes an unsettling image that relies on contrast. Much like a staircase to nowhere in the middle of the woods, a Reddit post that made the rounds years ago (and inspired me to write my own short story), it begs the question, “Where does the door lead?” and “What was the door part of?”

Thomas brings us into his world through a narrator who seems cynical and hard-boiled enough to be a fifty-something detective but is really a twenty-six-year-old woman. She fashions a warning for us: Proceed at your own risk. Of course, we’re going to turn the page.

The difference between coastal folk and their landlocked brethren is thinner than most care to admit. It’s always seemed that those who call the coast home tend to migrate more often than not, while midwesterners have roots that run deep, back to when our ancestors first landed.

The heart of that similarity is that this land was never ours and never will be, and in that vein is where Thomas weaves a Clive Barker-like tale of a cursed land that needs blood to survive.

His choice to focus on the human factor of the story rather than the ancient evil that lies in wait to be fed keeps him firmly out of the Lovecraftian, “impossibly to describe” monster mania.

We stay grounded in the plight of modern man rather than some ancient transgression of our ancestors. A well-told page-turner that never ventures too far out.

Wear Your Secret Like A Stone

This is another age-old, creepy tale of local lore that centers around the question: What’s buried at the bottom of the lake?

If I could speculate a moment, it seems Thomas may have injected some autobiographical elements into the main character, Tara. There’s a reverence for books and the hesitation to “mark them up,” along with a diatribe on Barnes & Noble and the curious affinity the newer generation of book readers hold for it.

(Younger folks completely overlook how B&N was responsible for the death of many mom-and-pop book shops. Only because Amazon has threatened the large chain’s existence does it seem like you’re pulling for the little guy by spending cover price. It’s similar to the retro passion for Blockbuster and calls to bring back the video store, while forgetting that Blockbuster, in fact, effectively killed the video store. But I digress.)

This is a great horror story with classic elements, but I wish more time had been spent fleshing out the ending that such a strong tale deserves.

The Boy in the Woods

A summer camp at the end of its season. Two campers left, waiting for their late and forgetful parents to come get them, stuck with a bunch of lustful teen counselors. You can’t help but feel some ’80s nostalgia.

Thomas’s ability to create solid characters is on display again. He paints pictures with his descriptions. Again, he’s able to write with a genuine voice that presents the pressure that teens/pre-teens face in normal situations and then turn the volume up to eleven, in the woods, in the dark, with rabid counselors hunting you.

One Half of A Child’s Face

While reading this story, I couldn’t help but think of Hitchcock’s Rear Window (something that Thomas was apparently also thinking as he wrote it; he got that across plainly).

To me, this was the one story that did not have a Midwestern feel. It was very “city.” That makes sense, as he wrote it while locked away up north, in Vancouver, while on location during the pandemic.

This tale of voyeurism and the mania that came to some in the constraints of a worldwide shutdown feels like a therapy session. Thomas gives the main character a nice, cozy home instead of the crushing walls of an apartment or hotel with shared, “poison” air.

While he again expertly builds the mythology around his characters, which are always strong, I felt this specific story fell short of the other four. It seemed to have the least amount of thought, which rings true from Thomas’s own words. He wrote it last. It didn’t have years to seep into the soil of his brain.

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Ultimately, however, it’s a strong collection and a riveting read. Buy Midwestern Gothic by Scott Thomas and place it on your shelf next to Barker, Joan Samson, and King—if you can ever escape its grip.