A Haunting Through Time, Noises From The Attic (Book One)
A Haunting Through Time, Noises From The Attic isn’t just one of my all-time favourite ghost stories – it’s the kind of book that dares you to keep turning the pages and then punishes you for doing it.
It hurls you into a collision of overlapping supernatural dramas, all layered at once, yet never muddled, never losing sight of the brutal, beating heart of its core story.
The book opens by taunting you with rational explanations, parading them in front of you like a safety net you can cling to if you’re scared – and then, piece by piece, it rips that net away and throws its weight behind the unapologetically supernatural.
By the time it’s done, you’re left with the uncomfortable realisation that this is all rooted in events that feel far too real, far too close, and far more terrifying than you’re prepared to admit.
As time unravels in the story, you don’t just read, you cling; every page turn feels like a dare. I was absolutely gripped, and if you aren’t, you’re probably not paying attention.
I won’t spell out every twist, because frankly, if you need it spoon-fed, this book isn’t for you – but understand this: this is not a cosy night-time read for the faint-hearted, or for anyone who prefers their ghosts declawed and polite.
It forces you to wrestle with the metaphysical, to question what’s real, what’s imagined, and what you’re too afraid to face.
It’s a relentless thrill ride from first page to last. The staging of the numerous “scare moments” isn’t just effective, it’s viciously precise and refreshingly original; you are never allowed the luxury of knowing what’s coming next, or who – or what – is waiting just out of sight to ambush you.
What makes the tension so ferociously gripping is the way Robin has carved each of the characters (Fredrick, Edith, Janet & Dena). He understands, with unnerving clarity, that 90% of the fear detonates inside your own head, triggered by what he plants on the page and what your own life experiences drag up from the dark.
Your imagination is weaponised, forced to fill in the gaps; the unbearable build-up of anticipation before each shock becomes almost sadistic. Robin S. Goodfellow’s ruthless, razor-sharp use of multiple settings across time is not just clever, it’s audacious – a calculated stroke of genius that refuses to let you find your footing.
I don’t just recommend this author and this book; I challenge you to read it. If you walk away disappointed, you weren’t really reading.
And with book two already out, you’ve got no excuse not to dive straight back into the next round of things that go bump, crash, and claw in the night.
nibpublishinghouse.com 