Filaments follows Thea, a professor drawn back to her small hometown in Minnesota after her mother’s strange behavior turns alarming. What begins as a reluctant homecoming spirals into a dark exploration of generational trauma, addiction, and the eerie pull of the bog that shaped her childhood. As Thea digs into the disappearances of two local men, she unearths a supernatural thread linking her family’s past to the town’s rot. It’s a haunting story about the way memory festers, how love curdles, and how the land itself can hold grudges.

The writing is sharp and intimate, full of slow-burn dread rather than cheap scares. KZK’s prose feels like wading into dark water, you never know how deep it goes. Thea’s voice hit me hard. She’s smart and cynical but full of raw edges that made her feel real. I loved how the story blurred science and folklore. The bog wasn’t just a setting, it was alive, patient, and almost tender in its cruelty. I’ll admit, the pacing slows in places, especially in the middle chapters where Thea’s memories crowd the page, but the atmosphere never lets go.

There’s also something very relatable here. The story isn’t really about missing people or haunted places, it’s about how women are shaped by the weight of other people’s expectations. Thea’s relationship with her mother broke me a little. There’s this aching honesty in how KZK writes about mental illness and survival, like the line between madness and resilience is thinner than anyone wants to admit. At times, the dialogue feels jagged, and that roughness worked for me. It gave the story an edge.

Filaments felt like a fever dream and a confession all at once. It’s part literary thriller, part horror fable, and all heartache. I’d recommend it to readers who like their stories weird and emotional, people who loved Sharp Objects or The Fisherman but wanted something quieter, more personal. It’s not for those who need clean endings or easy answers.

Pages: 215 | ASIN : B0FS4NDBH3