A quiet cliffside house.
A family trying to rest.
A bird that listens.
When Sarah and her family arrive at a remote coastal rental, the rules seem simple: stay back from the edge, keep the doors closed, don't feed the parrot.
The house is peaceful. The view is beautiful. And nothing feels wrong... at first.
But accidents begin to happen.
Slips. Falls. Near-misses explained away as bad luck.
The macaw watches from its perch, repeating fragments of sound and memory with unsettling precision. A word at the wrong moment. A bark that didn't come from the dog. A warning spoken too late.
As fear quietly reshapes the household, Sarah realises the danger isn't noise or violence, but timing. Influence. Blame.
Rubescens is a slow-burning psychological horror novel about observation, mimicry, and the fragile systems we trust to keep us safe. Tense, unsettling, and disturbingly plausible, it asks a simple question:
What if something learned how accidents work?