How certain landscapes and locations carry an atmosphere that shapes both real life and fiction.
There are places that stay with us long after we’ve left them. Not because of what happened there, but because of how they feel. You step into a room, walk a forest trail, or stand on the edge of a windswept field, and something presses against you—an atmosphere you can’t quite name. It’s more than memory, more than mood. It’s as if the place itself is alive, carrying whispers of those who’ve passed through before you.
As a supernatural thriller author, I’ve come to treasure these places. They are fertile ground for my novels. The crooked tree which stands alone in a marshy bog. The echoing hush of a church long emptied of its congregation. The stillness of a frozen lake in winter, where the ice creaks and shifts beneath your feet like something alive beneath the surface. Each carries its own presence, and if you’re paying attention, you can almost hear it speak.
Why Places Hold Power
Science tells us that memory is tied to environment. A familiar smell or sound can transport us instantly back to another time. But I believe places hold more than our own memories—they carry the echoes of everything that has unfolded within them. A battlefield does not feel the same as a meadow. A centuries-old home with creaking floorboards does not feel like a brand-new house, even when both stand silent and empty.
Maybe it’s history. Maybe it’s supernatural. Or maybe it’s simply that some places awaken our own buried fears and fascinations. Whatever the reason, certain landscapes feel like characters in their own right—shaping our emotions, guiding our steps, even influencing our decisions.
Writing with Atmosphere
When I write, I let the setting breathe as much life into the story as the characters themselves. In truth, the two are inseparable. The deep, silent forests of Alaska, the quiet watch of a Victorian home, the untamed stretch of wilderness at night—they aren’t just backdrops. They are forces. They push against the characters. They conceal secrets. They hold dangers.
Think of your own life: a childhood home that felt safe, or perhaps one that didn’t. A place of joy you always long to return to—or a place you avoid, though you can’t quite explain why. That’s the haunting power of places. It shapes not only our stories but our lives.
Listening to the Land
The next time you visit somewhere new, pause. Set aside the chatter of your thoughts and really feel the atmosphere. Is it welcoming? Unsettling? Heavy with something unspoken? The more we learn to listen, the more we realize the world itself is telling stories—and not all of them are finished.
For me, these moments are the sparks that light entire novels. For you, they may simply be reminders that the world is layered, rich, and mysterious.
Because sometimes a place isn’t just a place. Sometimes, it’s a whisper. Sometimes, it’s a warning. And sometimes… it’s a doorway.