If the taped interviews and conflicting recollections around Julian Blake’s disappearance drew you in, you’ll love how The Last Days of Jack Sparks assembles emails, transcripts, and online posts to dissect a skeptic journalist’s fatal brush with the supernatural. Like the way Wylding Hall’s surviving bandmates piece together that eerie photo shoot and the enigmatic birdlike girl, Jack’s colleagues and enemies reconstruct his final months into a chilling collage that keeps shifting under your feet.

If you enjoyed hearing every member of Windhollow Faire—and their hangers-on—offer clashing versions of the summer at Wylding Hall, World War Z uses dozens of distinct voices to tell a single story from fractured angles. The way the band’s manager, the folk historian, and the surviving musicians contradict each other echoes how Brooks’s interviewees stitch together a catastrophe, forcing you to read between the lines for the truth.

Like the back-and-forth timelines and memory gaps surrounding Julian’s vanishing and that unfinished roll of photographs, The Red Tree unfolds through a disordered journal, found manuscripts, and marginalia. As Sarah Crowe retreats to a rural house and unearths a sinister local legend, entries loop and contradict, creating the same drifting, uncanny disorientation that made the labyrinthine corridors of Wylding Hall feel so perilous.

If the puzzle of who—or what—lured Julian through that doorway kept you turning pages, The Sun Down Motel scratches the same itch. Like the documentary-style digging into Windhollow’s past recordings and interviews, a niece sifts through shifts logs, witness accounts, and local lore to solve her aunt’s decades-old disappearance at a haunted roadside motel, where every clue makes the supernatural feel disturbingly plausible.

If the isolated country manor, the small circle of musicians, and the creeping folklore around Wylding Hall worked for you, Starve Acre delivers the same intimate chill. You follow Richard and Juliette in their lonely farmhouse as local legends—and a sinister object unearthed on their land—warp grief into something feral, much like how one strange song and one strange girl upended Windhollow Faire’s summer.