Horror steeped in atmospheric dread, decaying settings, dark secrets, and the weight of the past pressing on the present.
Gothic horror generates fear through atmosphere rather than action. Crumbling mansions, family secrets, isolated settings, oppressive weather, and a pervasive sense that the past won't stay buried. The genre traces back to Horace Walpole's The Castle of Otranto in 1764 and remains one of horror's most enduring branches. It's less about jump scares and more about the slow realization that something is deeply, fundamentally wrong.
Gothic horror is the best classroom for learning atmosphere and setting as emotional tools. If you want readers to feel dread before anything threatening happens, study how gothic horror uses architecture, weather, isolation, and history. Those skills work in any genre.
Manderley itself is a character: the house's grandeur and secrets suffocating the unnamed narrator.
A governess, two children, and maybe ghosts, with ambiguity so perfect that scholars still debate what actually happens.
Describe a house in 300 words without any characters present. Through architectural details, weather, light, and sound alone, make the reader feel that something is wrong. The house should feel alive, watchful, or hungry. This is the gothic horror muscle.