Hot on the heels of their excellent Heavy Metal Nightmares, Phobica Books have produced another quality themed anthology in the form of Terrors from the Toy Box.

The blurb promised “devil dolls and terrifying teddies, abominable action figures and gruesome games all lying in wait for the opportunity to be free to wreak terror” and it certainly delivers on that.

Some of the tales are obviously supernatural whereas with others, the horror is of the non-magical variety and born from obsession or the darkness that lurks inside people. Sometimes it’s both, and I enjoyed being kept guessing as each story began, as well as wondering what horrors were about to be unleashed when a toy made its appearance.

There’s a good range of styles from the selected authors and the chills are delivered in different ways be that malevolent atmosphere, gruesome shocks or emotional clout. There are also some interesting and subtle concepts that throw shade on the wider world as a whole.

Although I enjoyed all the fiction in this book, here are a handful of those that really stood out for me.

“Faux Joe” by M.J. McClymont is narrated by Tommy, a man concerned about his old friend Joe: a lonely character obsessed with his immaculate and pristine action figure collection. Joe believes his plastic figures to be perfect in every way, and Tommy slowly realises that his troubled friend has concocted a grim plan to improve his life by achieving this supposed perfection for himself. Relatable feelings collide with body horror to create a very compulsive read, and the final line concludes it perfectly on a wry and ominous note.

“Pooky” by Tim Jeffreys concerns Bethany, a girl who cajoles her divorced parents into buying her an old but collectible teddy bear, and it’s not long before things take a spooky turn. A voice seems to be heard talking to Pooky from Bethany’s room, and the child herself speaks of another girl in the house. It has emotional depth for what is one of the shorter pieces in the anthology – merging the stressful domestic troubles of the family with the lurking supernatural – along with some very haunting moments, and a nicely gauged pay off.

In “A Decent Guy” by Wil Forbis, we meet Bennett: a successful family man whose son has a new action figure called Justice Man. But we soon learn that Bennett, who is a loving father and a “decent guy” around his family and community, has a dark and sadistic side that must be assuaged by violence of the most disturbing kind. An increasingly unpleasant descent, the story is crafted into something ultimately very satisfying, all neatly bookended by its own theme.

“Enid’s Dollhouse” by Harriet Phoenix begins with a fairly benign tone as we find young Enid, a girl who loves to collect dolls and play with them, rebuffing her parents’ gentle attempts to dissuade her from expanding her growing collection. This is a very cleverly structured piece. At first there are things that don’t quite seem to make sense, but then everything falls into place, and there’s a cold and terrifying moment of realisation for the reader. With shades of The Twilight Zone, I immediately re-read it and got to enjoy the subtle nuances and pre-reveal attention to detail in a completely different way. Brilliant stuff.

“Lillybet Lollipop” by Scotty Milder is a superb take on the old creepypasta theme. Here, a young man named Mark stumbles across a dusty and obsolete gaming console at a garage sale, along with the game of the title: an ultra-rare cartridge that was swiftly withdrawn from circulation after supposedly terrible things happened to the people who played it. This is a gripping and deftly structured read – switching between Mark’s experience with the malignant game and transcripts of an urban legend podcast about Lillybet Lollipop – as the author takes us on a dizzying and violent journey into madness.

“Kia stood a few steps behind the yellow line, clinging to her little brother’s hand, two over-stuffed rucksacks by her legs, and seriously considered letting go of him and walking out in front of the train that was rapidly approaching.”
Thus begins “A Sister’s Love” by Annie Knox, hooking me in from the start. Kia is a girl on the run with her younger brother Kevin after she has murdered their father for reasons that we don’t initially know. Desperate and out of her depth, she tries to protect him and find somewhere to stay, but is increasingly frustrated by how the young lad seems to talk to someone through various toys. A convincing portrayal of fragile and broken human psyches, this tragic spiral has pathos by the bucketload. It packs several heart-breaking punches, and is definitely the most memorable and powerful tale in the anthology for me.

Although these were my favourites, all the stories bring something to the party. For example, opener “Ma Gentry’s Dream Catcher” by Richard Beauchamp is thick with the evocative atmosphere of its rural witchcraft setting and “Little Red Case” by J Benjamin Sanders Jr has some masterful scenes of unnerving anticipation delivered by a haunted dollhouse. “Uncanny” by Mia Dalia nails the uncanny valley concept, and “A Toy For Zubin” by Galen Gower brings both dark humour and an insidiously nasty tone to the possessed toy trope.

There is much to like about Terrors from the Toy Box. The pieces are often character driven, which is something that can be overlooked elsewhere due to a prime focus on scares or ideas. Without investable or realistic protagonists, short fiction is difficult to care about, and Phobica Books clearly recognise that.

What I also enjoyed is that with such a childhood-related theme, nostalgic feelings inevitably abound, and some of the tales inspired wistfulness for times or toys that weren’t even mine which is a solid and impressive feat.

This is one of those books that I constantly wanted to get back to whenever forced to put it down because real life was dragging me away. Thanks to Phobica Books for the escapism, and I will definitely be keeping a close eye on their future output.

Phobica Books