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Gray House: Issue One - The Disappearing Boy
Not yet published
Expected 3 Feb 26When a boy begins vanishing between realities, his sister decides not to tell anyone—not their parents, not the doctors who keep trying to medicate her out of the truth.
The Disappearing Boy is a psychologically driven literary novel about forbidden intimacy, memory, and the slow unraveling of reality.
Set inside an antebellum house that shouldn’t exist, across timelines that shouldn’t overlap, The Disappearing Boy is the first issue of Gray House—a serialized literary fiction series about a secret society of interdimensional travelers hiding in plain sight as a dysfunctional family.
Told through medical records, hallucinatory letters, and first-person fragments, the Gray Family’s literary debut is about twins, identity, cultism, and the erotic terror of relationships tangled throughout the multiverse.
Reality isn’t breaking. You’re just remembering.
Read it while you still believe it’s fiction.
The Disappearing Boy is a psychologically driven literary novel about forbidden intimacy, memory, and the slow unraveling of reality.
Set inside an antebellum house that shouldn’t exist, across timelines that shouldn’t overlap, The Disappearing Boy is the first issue of Gray House—a serialized literary fiction series about a secret society of interdimensional travelers hiding in plain sight as a dysfunctional family.
Told through medical records, hallucinatory letters, and first-person fragments, the Gray Family’s literary debut is about twins, identity, cultism, and the erotic terror of relationships tangled throughout the multiverse.
Reality isn’t breaking. You’re just remembering.
Read it while you still believe it’s fiction.
539 pages, Kindle Edition
Expected publication February 3, 2026
19 people want to read
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
December 3, 2025
The Disappearing Boy is a beautifully disorienting and atmospheric opening to a literary multiverse that feels equal parts intimate, eerie, and philosophically rich. From the very first page, the book establishes itself not just as a story, but as an experience, one that slips between realities the same way its protagonist does.
The narrative unfolds through medical notes, letters that feel like hallucinations, and raw first-person fragments. Instead of confusing the reader, this fragmented style deepens the emotional impact. It mirrors the characters’ fractured perception of reality, giving the book a haunting sense of immediacy - as if you’re living inside their memories and distortions.
At the heart of the story are the twins. Their relationship is tender, codependent, and quietly devastating. The sister’s choice to hide her brother’s disappearances speaks volumes about love, fear, and the instinct to protect what the world won't understand.
The family around them reads like a dysfunctional cult disguised as a home - especially within an antebellum house that shouldn’t exist at all. Every character feels vivid, flawed, and eerily familiar, which makes the surreal elements even more unsettling.
The horror here is not jump-scare horror. It’s the quiet, creeping dread of realizing that what you’re reading might be a memory, not a story.
The multiverse element feels intimate rather than sci-fi, focusing on emotional and psychological consequences instead of big cosmic mechanics.
Gray House isn’t just a setting - it’s a presence. It contains contradictions, impossible rooms, and echoes of timelines overlapping. You feel its weight on every page, the way haunted houses in gothic fiction feel alive… but here, it’s not ghosts you fear - it’s truth.
The Disappearing Boy is a hypnotic, unsettling, and beautifully written introduction to a literary universe unlike anything else.
It’s for readers who enjoy atmospheric, experimental fiction - stories where emotion and mystery intertwine, where the real horror lies in memory, identity, and the things families hide from each other and themselves.
It’s the kind of book you finish quietly, realizing the discomfort you feel isn’t confusion - it’s recognition.
A haunting debut to a multiversal family saga that promises to get stranger, darker, and even more addictive.
The narrative unfolds through medical notes, letters that feel like hallucinations, and raw first-person fragments. Instead of confusing the reader, this fragmented style deepens the emotional impact. It mirrors the characters’ fractured perception of reality, giving the book a haunting sense of immediacy - as if you’re living inside their memories and distortions.
At the heart of the story are the twins. Their relationship is tender, codependent, and quietly devastating. The sister’s choice to hide her brother’s disappearances speaks volumes about love, fear, and the instinct to protect what the world won't understand.
The family around them reads like a dysfunctional cult disguised as a home - especially within an antebellum house that shouldn’t exist at all. Every character feels vivid, flawed, and eerily familiar, which makes the surreal elements even more unsettling.
The horror here is not jump-scare horror. It’s the quiet, creeping dread of realizing that what you’re reading might be a memory, not a story.
The multiverse element feels intimate rather than sci-fi, focusing on emotional and psychological consequences instead of big cosmic mechanics.
Gray House isn’t just a setting - it’s a presence. It contains contradictions, impossible rooms, and echoes of timelines overlapping. You feel its weight on every page, the way haunted houses in gothic fiction feel alive… but here, it’s not ghosts you fear - it’s truth.
The Disappearing Boy is a hypnotic, unsettling, and beautifully written introduction to a literary universe unlike anything else.
It’s for readers who enjoy atmospheric, experimental fiction - stories where emotion and mystery intertwine, where the real horror lies in memory, identity, and the things families hide from each other and themselves.
It’s the kind of book you finish quietly, realizing the discomfort you feel isn’t confusion - it’s recognition.
A haunting debut to a multiversal family saga that promises to get stranger, darker, and even more addictive.
Displaying 1 of 1 review