If the way Abe’s fishing trips get swallowed by the Gazetteer’s long, chilling account—culminating in the Black Ocean and the legend of Der Fisherman—hooked you, you’ll love how House of Leaves nests journals, footnotes, and fragmented testimonies to expose a house that’s bigger on the inside. That same creeping realization—documentation turning into doom—builds until the architecture itself feels as predatory as Dutchman’s Creek.

You felt how Abe’s grief for his wife draws him to Dutchman’s Creek—and how Dan’s loss keeps him there—until both are caught in something older and hungrier. In The Red Tree, a writer’s journal charts a similar spiral: isolation, a malignant presence tied to the land, and the way mourning distorts perception. Like Abe’s voice, the narrator’s intimate confessions make every crack in reality feel personal, inevitable, and dangerous.

If the long, patient build from casual fishing to impossible waters and the revelation of the Black Ocean worked for you, The Ritual delivers that same tightening noose. A hiking trip through an ancient forest unearths something mythic and merciless; as with Abe and Dan at Dutchman’s Creek, ordinary camaraderie curdles into terror when the landscape refuses to play by human rules.

The way the legend of Der Fisherman reaches from the past—through Rainer’s tale and the Black Ocean—to snare Abe and Dan mirrors the intergenerational curse at the heart of The Only Good Indians. Folklore isn’t background; it hunts. Like the horrors coiled at Dutchman’s Creek, the avenging presence here is steeped in cultural memory and refuses to let the living forget.

If the surreal pull of Dutchman’s Creek—the impossible currents, the sense that the world bends toward the Black Ocean—left you awestruck and uneasy, Annihilation offers that same dreamlike dread. A nameless biologist’s journal records encounters with shifting topography, living text, and a brightness as hypnotic and perilous as the Fisherman’s dominion.