The plot of every horror movie. In writing. No images.

A miniature artist's secretive mother dies and leaves the family the worst inheritance in cinema: a demon king named Paimon, waiting patiently for a male host.

A group of strangers, a tower block, and a very cursed book. The franchise's most savage entry treats practical gore as a love language.

A grieving woman follows her terrible boyfriend to a Swedish festival where the sun never sets and the locals are unusually invested in the calendar.

A banished Puritan family farms at the edge of a wood that wants something from them. The goat has opinions.

Teenagers pass around an embalmed hand that lets you hold hands with the dead for ninety seconds. They do not respect the ninety seconds.

An exhausted single mother and her difficult son acquire a pop-up book they cannot get rid of. It is about grief. It is also about a thing in the basement.

A journalist watches a cursed videotape and gets a phone call giving her seven days. She spends them doing journalism, which does not help.

A family survives a world of blind monsters that hunt by sound by living in total silence. Then someone gets pregnant, which is loud.

A true-crime writer moves his family into a murder house and finds a box of home movies in the attic. He keeps watching them. He keeps living there.

A pop star on the verge of a comeback tour inherits a curse that passes through trauma and grins. Stadium tours are a bad place for this.

Decades into the Rage virus, a community on a tidal island sends a father and son to the mainland. The infected have had time to evolve. So has the dread.

The Warrens take one final case. There is a doll involved, because there is always a doll involved.