Ghost stories from Apparitions

The Ashwood Frame

The Thorne house had stood on Cedar Lane since 1931, a respectable brick colonial with white trim and a porch that sagged like a tired smile. My parents bought it...

The Hollow Step

The house on Marrow Lane had always been a little too quiet, even for a converted Victorian vicarage. Elias had moved in three months ago, after his aunt passed, and...

The Staring Boy

I never meant to die that Tuesday. I just wanted the noise to stop—the constant hum of the city, the chatter in my head, the weight of debts I couldn’t...

The Clock at 2:14

Marta had always been a light sleeper, but it wasn’t until she moved into the old Victorian house on Hemlock Lane that she began to dread the night. The house...

The Glass Wedge

When Lila and her partner, Julian, moved into her mother’s old farmhouse, they expected creaking floorboards and drafty windows, not the silent, persistent strangeness that greeted them. The house sat...

The Counting Game

My sixteenth birthday was supposed to be a simple sleepover at my Aunt Mabel’s old farmhouse, a place my cousins swore was haunted. My friends – Lena, Priya, Jess, and...

The Last Comb

I’m a data entry clerk, thirty-two, and I live in a converted lighthouse on a rocky headland that juts into the North Sea. The nearest village is a twenty-minute drive...

The Porcelain Keeper

In the dusty attic of the old Calloway house, where the floorboards creaked like tired bones and the air tasted of mothballs and forgotten summers, eleven-year-old Elsie discovered a wooden...

The Hollow Mannequin

Mara had always been a light sleeper, but the past three nights had been torture. Each night, at precisely 2:00 AM, the grandfather clock in the hall would chime, and...

The Latchkey Guest

The house at 14 Gable Lane was a hand-me-down, not in the loving sense, but in the way a cemetery plot is handed down. I inherited it from my aunt,...

The Weight of Stillness

After the collapse of my marriage and the subsequent unraveling of my career, I found myself drifting. My grandmother, a woman of few words but profound kindness, offered me refuge...

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