When 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.
I don't think I read this book as much as it burrowed its way into my soul. This doesn't really ever happen to me (even when I love a book), but with this one, as soon as I finished it, I wanted to immediately go back to the beginning and re-read it - knowing what I knew by the end.
The book itself is separated into five "sections." Thank f*ck this is just the first issue of who knows how many. Because when each section ended, I thought I'm sorry what?? I needed to know more, and I'm hoping that the forthcoming issues will give me more of what I loved so dearly about this one. Characters blend into each other through the different sections - sometimes with the same names and sometimes not. Sometimes with the same descriptions or characteristics and sometimes not. Sometimes in the same world and sometimes not. Actually, usually not.
This is clearly the beloved offspring of 10+ years of planning and thought and creativity. It is smartly-written and methodically organized. I am 100% sure there is no way for me to do this book justice because I can't even explain what it was like to read it. On the surface, it's just five smaller novellas that kinda sorta seem to connect in some ways...sometimes? There's a section that follows two twins as one of them seems to pop in and out of dimensions - to a place where he can see people who don't exist in this reality. One section details a family who's about to gain a new member and who've been brought together to determine a new matriarch. One section explains the same two characters (but not the same??) meeting each other in different timelines. One section is a series of letters from different perspectives of those residing in the Gray House. The final section reads like a biblical text.
Regardless of how jumbled this description may seem, this book is special. I woke up at 5am every day excited to read it. I needed to see what happened next - how the pieces fit together. And while I didn't get all my answers, I'm okay with that. I am encouraging everyone I know to grab this book. I could say that "this book isn't for everyone" because it's so unique, but let's be honest, what book is for everyone?? If you like spooky, mindf*ck, romantic, multiversal, philisophical, hilarious, mysterious books, then you have to grab this. And yes, this book is actually all those things.
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.
This book is a mystery wrapped in nostalgia. It describes places that feel familiar, but you just can't recall why. Gray House is a mystery that I still do not fully understand, but I loved the journey that I was taken on. This book deserves a second or third read!For fans of Experimental fiction and liminal narratives!
"Gray house was not built how homes are built, it was discovered by us in pieces." This book is not written how books are usually written, it is given to us in pieces. It leaves us to question, ponder and connect the puzzle together. Curiosities and oddities are stacked in these pages. We are taken through different versions experienced by each character, which also melt together. There are different parts to this issue, each with their uniqueness. My favourites were The Kettering and The Basement.
The literature in this book is mesmerizing. The compelling wording used in this book paints a realness you can smell, taste, feel and breathe. It is unlike anything I have ever read before.
The Gray family is haunted by each other and the haunting extends to the reader. We get tangled in each multiverse, in different timelines and different versions of the story, but Gray house keeps calling us all home.
This book will appeal to different readers, and not to every reader. If you have an open and curious mind, I dare you to step through the door. I enjoyed my stay.
To the Grays and the Ghost, thank you for the invite. See you at Midnight.
Some houses don’t just keep secrets. They fracture reality. The Disappearing Boy lures you in with 80’s nostalgia and childhood games, then quietly begins pulling the floorboards out from under you. Catatonic episodes that feel less like illness and more like doorways. But are they? Is it magic… or psychosis? And who gets to decide? The adopted once conjoined twins, Yiri and Rosie, are at the center—bound together in ways that go far beyond flesh. At midnight, they vanish into their “games.” But are they really playing? Or is Yiri slipping between dimensions while everyone else looks away? The Gray family watches. The Gray House waits. Thirteen entities hum beneath the surface. As the multiverse fractures open, you start questioning everything. Which reality is real? Which memories belong to whom? If soulmates can exist across dimensions… what else can? This is horror that whispers instead of screams. It doesn’t just unsettle the characters—it destabilizes the reader. By the final page, you aren’t just questioning their reality. You’re questioning yours.