19 Books Like Nightmare At 20,000 Feet

Unlike those of Richard Matheson, the stories of Italo Calvino are rarely adapted for stage or screen, his estate holding a heavy hand on the rights (I know—I’ve tried). 

One of my favorite writers, Calvino specializes in eccentric, surreal stories as funny as they are moving.

Cosmicomics is a linked collection, each tale an imaginative fiction about the origins of a scientific idea, from the Big Bang (the narrator lives in a crazily cramped space with his family during the explosion) to evolution (his embarrassing old uncle still lives in the sea and refuses to make the trip to land). These stories combine whimsicality and gravity as few others do.

Speaking of movies, as I’m afraid I often am, it’s not just the novels of Daphne du Maurier (like Rebecca) that have made great films; her short stories have inspired them, too. And they’re weirder and darker than her full-length works.

Don’t Look Now and Other Stories is a recent collection curated by Patrick McGrath, another excellent horror-adjacent author. It features the title story, source of Nicolas Roeg’s famously frightening 1973 film, and “The Birds,” on which Hitchcock based his notoriously gory (for 1963) film.

While the movies are swell, these brief, insidious, and ambiguous tales can make them seem a little lumbering and obvious by comparison.

I don’t think most Lovecraft fans casual or devoted would single out The Music of Erich Zann, given the staying power of the Cthulhu mythos and everything associated with it. But what causes Lovecraft’s work to resonate so many decades later is his mastery over the disquieting, and this story about music channeled from a horrific place played on a street that doesn’t seem to exist by a violinist terrified and compelled to keep playing has stayed with me more than any of Lovecraft’s other stories in the years since I read it. Maybe it’s the musician in me, or maybe it’s the distortions of reality that tend to crop up in my own writing. Either way it’s striking, and a good introduction to the strangeness of H. P. Lovecraft.

Specifically, I'm recommending the short story "Sea Oak." In the expanse of horror fiction, it has to be said that there are very few stories about a kindly old woman who returns from the dead as a pissed-off, vulgar, rotting corpse demanding her nephew start showing his cock (Saunders’s phrasing, not mine) for extra money so that his family can stop being pushovers and start earning some cash. George Saunders, it should be noted, is not remotely a horror author—rather, one of the more offbeat, distinctive writers of short literary fiction of the last quarter century—and Pastoralia is determinedly not a horror collection. But it’s exactly this that makes “Sea Oak” the strangest, least likely zombie story, if you can call it that, that you’ll ever read.

The Twilight Zone, again? Yes, The Twilight Zone again. There are tons of great stories here, but I'm highlighting Lynn Venable's "Time Enough at Last," which is arguably even more iconic than "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet." While most would regard it as a science-fiction story more than a horror story, I think it’s one of the best examples ever put to paper of the principle that horror is personal. One person’s inconvenience is another’s world-ending nightmare—and vice versa. Lynn Venable’s broader body of work is not especially well known, but with this one story dropped into a genre dominated by men, Venable turned out one of the greatest and most memorable genre stories there would ever be. So check it out—you know, while there’s still time.

"The One Who Waits," one of my favorite stories in this collection, would be regarded more commonly as science fiction, as it takes place during an Earth expedition to Mars. But Ray Bradbury’s story also pioneers the classic horror trope of a small group of people falling one by one to a mysterious creature they cannot see—and with a means of disguise highly imaginative, beautifully written, and fundamentally terrifying. Bradbury is a phenomenal writer and it’s difficult to recommend any one story without feeling certain you’ve dropped the ball in not recommending another--you really can't go wrong with this entire collection--but the quick, clever, nuanced "The One Who Waits" is one of the best sci-fi/horror hybrids ever written.

These days, “folk horror” is a popular term for movies like Midsommer and The Witch.

In the early twentieth century, M. R. James is said to have invented this genre and revitalized the ghost story as a form. His memorably unsettling work often involves academics, scholars, and researchers confronting an uncanny, bucolic world.

The most renowned stories in this collection include “Casting the Runes” (a reviewer of an occult book learns an earlier critic died mysteriously), “The Mezzotint” (an upsetting engraving changes each time a curator looks at it), and “Oh Whistle, and I’ll Come to You, My Lad” (a professor dubious of the existence of ghosts fatefully finds an ancient whistle on vacation).

A French import published in the US in 2024, Plasmas is an intriguingly spare, linked collection of short futuristic scenes.

Acrobats whose routines are programmed by biotechnology…tomorrow’s La Brea Tar Pits, where artifacts of both the distant past—and future—are unearthed…a female scientist bonds idealistically and tragically with great apes…these compelling stories revolve around a post-human world, written in an icy style that often feels post-human, as well.

Prodigiously translated by Annabel Kim, it’s a subdued, sort-of successor to Cosmicomics and won the French Prix de L’imaginaire, that country’s top prize for speculative fiction.

Charles Beaumont was close friends with Richard Matheson, and they worked together on such projects as the Roger Corman Edgar Allan Poe films and Rod Serling’s original Twilight Zone. Beaumont’s stories are as rich and varied as Matheson’s, with delightfully witty language and fantastic plot twists. If you love classic Matheson short stories like “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet” and “Death Ship,” you’re bound to love Beaumont.

My second pick is also an impressive, wide-ranging author - from generation-spanning sagas to prison diaries to collections of short stories. Among his several books of short stories, I find this the best as each story in the collection has a very interesting—literally—twist in the tail. These twists hit more and closer to the reader’s heart as the reader is really invested in the well-fleshed-out characters, such as the relatable mechanic-turned-reluctant-chef in ‘A la Carte.’ 

Though Jeffrey Archer is the master of pulp fiction, I find his pacing crisper in his short stories. They are fast-paced and breezy and smack you hard on the back on your way out.