Two Award-Winning Horror Novels, a Lot of Blood, and Absolutely No Chill

Let’s get one thing out of the way: I didn’t set out to write “award-winning books.” I set out to write the kind of stories that get under your skin, crawl around for a while, and refuse to leave — the kind that make you pause halfway down a dark hallway and go, Nope. Not tonight.

Somehow, against all odds and probably several good decisions, I ended up doing both.

So this is a love letter, a victory lap, and a mildly unhinged rant about my two award-winning horror novels — The Street Between the Pines and Misery Plaza — and a look ahead at the next beast currently clawing its way out of my brain: Repo Chick.

If you’re squeamish, fair warning. If you like your horror with teeth, guts, and a sense of humor — welcome!

First, Hiyeeeee (*waves*) I’m J.J. Alo. I Write Dark Shit.

If you’re new here: Well hello, phobophiles!! (Yeah, that's Latin... and describes YOU if you're here. Welcome to the chaos! I’m J.J. Alo — author, actor, horror obsessive, and someone who has always been more interested in what’s lurking behind the pretty facade than the facade itself.

I write horror (if you couldn't tell) that lives somewhere between folklore, trauma, bad decisions, and things that absolutely should not be digging their way out of the ground. My multilayered stories tend to focus on broken people, haunted places, and the idea that sometimes the monster isn’t supernatural — sometimes it’s just human nature with the mask ripped off. There's always a stark contrast between the external evil... and the evil inside ourselves.

These books live under the umbrella of my Southern New England Horror Anthology Series, which is a fancy way of saying: same cursed vibes, different nightmares.

🌲 The Street Between the Pines

(a quiet little book that absolutely is not quiet)

This was the book that started it all — the one that made readers side-eye wooded areas and question whether they really needed to enter their backyards after dark.

The Street Between the Pines is steeped in atmosphere. It’s damp earth, pine needles crunching underfoot, the smell of rot hanging in the air. It’s a place where grief doesn’t fade — it festers — and where what's lurking in the woods doesn't just watch you…

Why This Book Bleeds

At its heart, this story is about guilt and memory — and what happens when the past decides it’s done waiting politely. The horror here isn’t flashy. It’s slow, invasive, and cruel. It gets in through your senses first: the sounds, the shadows, the feeling that something is off even when everything looks normal... external horror vs internal horror. Is Curtis going crazy, or is something really out there?

And then, when you’re nice and uncomfortable, it starts taking bites.

This book doesn’t pull punches. People suffer. The violence is ugly and personal, because real horror usually is. There’s blood where blood should not be, and moments that hit harder because they feel earned, not cheap.

It Also Won Awards! (Which Still Feels Weird)

Somehow, this grim little nightmare went on to win and place in multiple awards, including a President’s Book Award for Thriller/Horror and finalist honors from Chanticleer.

I won’t lie — that part was surreal. You spend months (or years) alone with a story, bleeding onto the page, and then suddenly reviewers are like, “Hey, this emotionally devastating horror novel, I can seriously relate to the protagonist, Curtis.”

Readers connected to it. They wrote to me about scenes that stuck with them. About characters that hurt in familiar ways. Where they say, what the hell did I just read?

That’s the good stuff.

🏜 Misery Plaza

(same author, bigger teeth)

If The Street Between the Pines is a slow suffocation in the woods, Misery Plaza is getting dragged through the dirt and daring you to keep up.

This book is louder. Meaner. Stranger.

It takes place in a dusty, isolated settlement that feels like it exists slightly out of time — a place where everyone’s hiding something and the land itself seems pissed off about it. You’ve got outlaws, buried treasure, moral rot, and something ancient simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for an excuse to come out swinging.

This One Gets Messy — On Purpose

Misery Plaza leans harder into violence and consequence. A Western supernatural book where choices matter and punishment is not abstract. Blood is spilled. People make decisions they can’t walk back from — sometimes literally.

The gore here isn’t decorative. It’s narrative. It’s part of the cost of survival. When things go bad in this book, they go bad, and they leave scars. Sometimes you can't keep the past buried... as well as what's in your backyard. Of course I'm being vague, here, but no spoilers.

There’s also heart buried in all that carnage — especially in the story of a man, William Potter, trying (and often failing) to outrun his past while protecting what little he has left. A man trying to finally do good in a world that won't let him. It's essentially a story recounted by his daughter. Redemption, in Misery Plaza, is never clean. Sometimes it comes limping. Sometimes it comes too late.

And Then It Also Won Awards!

This book absolutely surprised me.

Readers’ Choice. Indie awards. Horror categories. Sci-fi categories.

What meant the most here was reader response. This was a book critics talked about, loved and were deeply unsettled by — which, frankly, is my favorite reaction. One reviewer stated she'd never read anything like it and probably never will again. That right there is the payoff.

Yes, it's extremely long, with the first half world building, but when you reached the second half, it's an absolute rollercoaster ride of characters consequence, and what happens to this sleepy little town by the end of the night.

If you finished it and immediately wanted to talk to someone about what the hell just happened, mission accomplished.

Why I Write Horror Like This (Blood, Bones, and All)

Here’s the thing: I don’t believe horror should be polite.

I believe horror should:

• Get its hands dirty

• Hurt a little

• Say something even while it’s ripping your throat out (literally and figuratively)

The gore in my books isn’t there for shock value alone. It’s there because violence is part of the truth of these stories. Fear is physical. Trauma is physical. Survival is physical. Horror that ignores the body misses half the point.

And yeah — sometimes it’s fun to go absolutely feral on the page.

What’s Next: Repo Chick (and Oh Boy…)

Now let’s talk about the next problem child.

Repo Chick is coming — and Kimmie Raven... she’s a meanie.

This upcoming project is a supernatural noir horror story (a Faustian tale) about death, debt, demons, and what happens when Hell hires the wrong woman for the job.

Without spoiling too much, Repo Chick follows a woman who wakes up dead and discovers she’s been drafted into collecting souls on behalf of something far worse than her. It’s violent. It’s darkly funny. It’s morally ugly. And it asks one big question:

If Hell gives you a second chance, what does it actually cost?

This book leans hard into:

• Demonic contracts

• Cosmic loopholes

• Brutal, intimate violence

• A protagonist who is very much done taking shit from anyone — living or otherwise

It’s sharper. It’s angrier. It’s soaked in cigarettes, blood, neon, and bad decisions. And it might be the most me thing I’ve written yet.

If my earlier books were about haunted places, Repo Chick is about being haunted by the system itself. It it certainly has a lot of fun along the way.

The Bottom Line (Before Something Crawls Out of the Walls)

I’m proud of these books. Proud of the scars they leave. Proud of the readers who’ve followed me into the dark and asked for more.

If you’ve already read The Street Between the Pines or Misery Plaza, thank you — sincerely — for trusting me with your time and your nerves.

If you’re new here and wondering where to start? Pick one. They’ll both hurt you a little. In a good way. Everyone likes a little pain, right?

And if you’re waiting for Repo Chick?

Trust me.

She’s coming. And she doesn’t knock.

J.J. Alo