Welcome back to Scare Me! a weekly horror newsletter. Today, we’re exploring one of my favorite moods: The incomparable power of yearning!

This weekend, I devoured The Flayed Man, a debut novel by Chloe Lauter that’s coming out this July. It just earned a starred review in Library Journal and rightly so—I loved every moment of reading.

The story follows Ellis, a thirty-one-year-old Emergency Department nurse who habitually works the night shift. Ellis is accustomed to sublimating her desires, whether it’s the longing she feels for a certain paramedic or her secret reluctance to care for her mother through early-onset Alzheimer’s.

But Ellis has one secret that’s truly dangerous—one she can never unleash, no matter what. Her bloodline carries a curse that dooms them to need daily doses of human blood. Not quite vampiric, but not human either, it’s the only way Ellis and people like her can prevent a violent, powerful transformation that would endanger everyone around them.

There’s a lot to love about The Flayed Man, and I’ll save most of it for my upcoming Macabre Daily review. For now, it’s enough to say that the novel had me feeling. Every page is suffused with a subtle, bittersweet yearning—a delicate, beautiful emotion that, upon reflection, is present in many of my favorite horror stories.

Yearning can take so many forms: Ambiguous grief. Yet-to-be-realized or unrequited love. A sense that belonging waits for you elsewhere, somewhere real yet inaccessible. The Flayed Man hits all these notes, like a layered perfume that lingers and develops as it dries down. You can preorder it here, and I highly recommend you do!

In the meantime, I’ve gathered ten favorites—five movies, five books—for the next time you yearn to yearn.

But first, one note: It must be acknowledged that Guillermo del Toro is the ultimate auteur of yearning. I simply found it too difficult to choose which of his many stories to feature. If you agree, which would you choose?

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Near Dark is such a mood. Katherine Bigelow’s 1987 directorial debut tells the story of Caleb Colton, an ordinary farm kid who crosses paths with a roaming band of vampires. Half-transformed and struggling to kill, Caleb risks death if he isn’t able to assimilate.

The yearning, in this case, comes from the sinking feeling that none of this is going to end well. But until then? It’s going to be moody and atmospheric to the max.

Perfect Blue examines the horror of what it’s like to become the object of someone else’s yearning. The film explores this theme in many layers—from a stalker who grows possessive over a pop star to professional jealousy to the very nature of idol fandom.

For our main character Mima (a pop idol attempting a career transition into acting) these aspects of fame carry substantial danger. But Mima herself offers a counterpoint to this darker take on yearning. As desires swirl around her, Mima longs to explore a new artform—even if doing so risks creative failure and even bodily harm. There’s something so moving about the juxtaposition between Mima’s physical vulnerability and inner strength.

Jack and I rewatched Mullholland Drive recently, and I loved it as much as ever. The movie centers Rita (Laura Harring), whose memory is erased by a violent car crash, and Betty (Naomi Watts), the fledgling actress newly arrived in Hollywood. The two meet by chance, and soon they’re entangled in an intense and suspenseful search for answers about Rita’s true identity and past.

In true David Lynch style, the movie’s reality warps and bends, separating Rita and Betty as suddenly as it brings them together. Lynch resists easy resolution, instead opting to allow contradictions to remain intact. Rita and Betty’s love and loss and longing are so gutting, and to me, they deserve a star on my own personal Hollywood Walk of Yearning.

If the underworld became overcrowded, where would the dead go next? This is the central question driving Pulse, a Japanese techno-horror film written and directed by Kiyoshi Kurosawa.

When Pulse is mentioned, the terrifying scene of the woman stumbling down the hallway is usually the first thing that comes up. (If you know, you know.) But what’s less often discussed is how, in addition to being deeply disquieting, Pulse is also intensely moody.

I’m particularly fond of the unlikely connection between Ryosuke, a computer illiterate economics student, and Harue, a computer scientist he turns to for help. Ryosuke is hungry to learn more about the emerging internet, including why he keeps seeing such strange and disturbing images online. But as Harue attempts to help him find answers, she becomes increasingly disturbed by her suspicion that the dead are leaking back into reality via cyberspace.

I could write another 5,000 words about how much I love this movie and its melancholy, bleak mood. One of my all-time favs.

The most recent film on my list, Huesera: The Bone Woman is a twisted, witchy story written and directed by Michelle Garza Cervera. It’s the story of Valeria, who’s seemingly experiencing true domestic bliss. She’s married, pregnant, and completing one last carpentry project for the nursery before packing up her tools.

But as Valeria’s pregnancy advances, she’s troubled by strange visions and a compulsive habit of cracking her knuckles. She begins to see a faceless, contorted woman who seems to be stalking her—but the only person who believes her is Ursula, a local curandera.

As the horror intensifies, Valeria is forced to question everything. If motherhood forces her to give up her art, her queer identity, and her sanity, is it still truly what she wants?

I didn’t catch this until I watched the trailers tonight, but there’s even a shot that echoes Perfect Blue. Both movies feature their main characters hunched over in the bathtub, small and huddled in an overhead shot.

If you love magical realism by authors like Gabriel García Márquez and Jorge Luis Borges, Juan Rulfo’s Pedro Páramo is a must-read. First published in 1955, this slim but potent novel is about a man who’s attempting to fulfill a deathbed promise made to his late mother. He’s never met his father, but he’s going to now.

But when Juan arrives at his father’s village, he discovers a town populated by fading ghosts. These fleeting encounters allow him to piece together the story of his father’s tyrannical influence over the local community, unearthing a hidden past he’s never encountered before. I cannot recommend Rulfo’s emotional complexity and surreal imagination highly enough.

Oh, Lestat. Incorrigible yearner! Chaotic bisexual! The messy heart of the Vampire Chronicles! This is easily the campiest tale on today’s list, but I’d be remiss to exclude Anne Rice.

It wasn’t until I read this novel that I fully grasped what it would be like to live without ever seeing the sun, or how long eternity truly stretches. Lestat falls in love easily and intensely—and over the centuries, he goes to unbelievable lengths to attract the attention and affection of his crushes. He truly sets an example for yearners who aren’t content to wait passively. Consequences be damned!

Has there ever been a book more full of tragic yearning? If so, please tell me so I can read it the next time I need to break my own heart. Never Let Me Go opens at an odd, uncanny boarding school where daily life appears normal—but there’s something terribly askew.

I didn’t know the twist at all when I read it, which is the ideal way to experience the story. I don’t think I’ve ever been sucker-punched harder by a novel.

If everyone has a dirtbag era, I spent a decent portion of mine in Richmond, Virginia. Those memories added a layer of almost painful nostalgia to Ghost Eaters, which is set among the historic cemetery lawns and haunted buildings and suburban construction sites that define the landscape.

Ghost Eaters is about Erin: freshly graduated from art school, newly employed at a local ad agency, and grieving the loss of her on-again, off-again boyfriend Silas, who recently died of an overdose.

Before his death, Silas was obsessed with a new drug called Ghost, which allows users to make contact with their dead. And before long, Erin is falling into a Ghost addiction she can’t quit any more than her aching, painful love for him. You’ll never look at a sheet of construction plastic or a pile of coats the same way again after reading this.

Annelise and Fernanda are two friends who share an intense, secretive bond. As their literature teacher, Miss Clara, teeters ever-closer to a psychotic break, the two girls lead their friend group to an abandoned house where they engage in increasingly frightening rituals.

What starts as an exercise in crafting creepypastas becomes something more powerful as Annelise suggests that her invented, ancient gods might be something true. As Fernanda becomes less certain of her ability to discern Annelise’s true motives, she longs for a consuming intimacy that seems to barely elude her grasp.

This book is cool and freaky and kind of made me feel sick. I loved it.

June is a busy month here at Scare Me! HQ. Next week, I’m flying to Pittsburgh for my first-ever StokerCon! As soon as I’m home, I’ll be kicking off five consecutive weekends of recording for my forthcoming podcast, This Might Sound Strange. In between, I’ll be popping up at Macabre Daily with reviews of Annie Neugebauer’s The Other and CJ Leede’s Headlights.

But rest assured! This does not mean that the newsletter will be taking a backseat. It just means I need to plan a little more carefully. Next week, we’ll return to the Subscriber Spotlight, this time as a main feed edition rather than a bonus. Send me your projects here!!

After that, I’ll share a StokerCon debrief, followed by (hopefully) a TBD interview, and a newsletter-exclusive book review. Let’s hope the stars align! But if not, I’ll come up with fun alternatives.

Scare Me! is a free weekly horror newsletter published every Thursday morning. It’s written by Michelle Delgado, featuring original illustrations by Sam Pugh. You can find the archive of past issues here. If you were sent this by a friend, subscribe to receive more spooky interviews, essays—and maybe even a ghost story or two.