Just Us, Here by V.S. Lawrence
Self-published (July 24, 2026)
Reviewed by Adam Allen
V.S. Lawrence has made a name for herself in the indie horror space as a writer of nostalgic, fun novels like 80s Ghosts and With Friends Like These, but she does something very different with the unsettling and extremely effective Just Us, Here. Lawrence creates an all-too-realistic portrait of a person slowly succumbing to a malevolent entity in their newhome, or perhaps she is just losing her mind. The results are devastating.
Wren is an influencer who has jumped on the latest trends for years to boost her follower count (and income). After makeup tutorials, food reviews, looking for a partner, and nightlife videos become less lucrative, Wren decides it’s time to capitalize on the Tradwife movement’s popularity and move her new family to a property in the country to create renovation and “simple living” content. At first, everything seems perfect; the house is just the right mixture of photogenic and in need of upgrades. There’s even a cool barn and a local farmer’s market. It’s a content creator’s dream.
But… there’s a weird draft even in the middle of summer. The barn has a padlock on it that no one seems to have a key to. Then, Wren meets someone at the farmer’s market who’s a little too friendly and interested in her baby. With that, we tumble headfirst into a nightmare.
One of the things that always requires the suspension of disbelief in books about a haunted or scary location is that most people would move away, or get help if so much weird stuff were going on. But instead of overt scares or things that go bump in the night, Lawrence’s terror festers in the way things feel. It’s effective and unnerving.
This is quiet, slow-burn horror, but when it takes a turn, it’s horrific. This book asks a lot of interesting questions about not just the popularity of Tradwife influencers, something that we are getting several fantastic books about this year, but the parasocial aspects of internet culture and how it can affect our mental health. Lawrence alternates traditional narrative chapters with Wren’s social media posts and the comment section. The callousness with which people respond to her online is upsetting and awful.
Lawrence doesn’t give the reader any easy answers, and the final act of Just Us, Here is as viscerally disturbing as any extreme horror novel I’ve read, without explicit violence. I found myself staring at the wall for a while after this one, and that’s about the highest praise you can give a horror author. This is a surprisingly bleak read, but it is worth the patience and journey to get there.
V.S. Lawrence continues to be a bright spot in the indie horror scene, and it’s remarkable to see her push herself into new, darker territory.
