Ghost stories from Apparitions

The Threshold Watcher

Elara had always been sensitive. As a child, she’d seen things that others couldn’t, felt vibrations in the air that others dismissed as imagination. But it wasn’t until she moved...

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The Green Dress

I never thought much about the mirrors in my grandmother’s house until I moved in after the funeral. The place had been in the family for generations, a sprawling Victorian...

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The Hollow Hour

Our room was on the second floor of the old farmhouse, a long, narrow space with two single beds shoved against opposite walls. The window faced the barn, and at...

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The Cradle of Static

It began not many months ago, at the edge of dawn, when the world outside my window was a smear of grey and the only sound was the hum of...

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The Lily on the Landing

The first time I saw her, I was six, standing in the hallway of my grandmother’s farmhouse in the hills of Appalachia, the bathroom door ajar behind me. The house...

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The Porcelain Doll

When I was sixteen, my family lived in an old farmhouse at the end of a long gravel road. The house had been in my mother’s family for generations, and...

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The Last Ember of the Lantern

In the village of Ashford, nestled between the crooked pines and the fog-choked river, there was a house that smelled of old wood and colder winters. I lived there with...

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The Cartographer’s Folly

The Ironwood Greenway, a sliver of ancient forest threaded through the sprawl of Meridian City, was my childhood’s forbidden borderland. We called it the ‘Hollow Way’ for the way the...

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The Scratched Metal

The first time I noticed the scratches on my phone case, I thought I’d caught it on something at work. It was a thin, deep line, like the kind a...

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The Mulberry Man

I’ve always found comfort in the pre-dawn hours, when the world is still and the only sounds are my own footsteps and the occasional rustle of a nocturnal creature. Last...

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The Cake on Frosted Glass

It had been a long, sweltering summer in the dusty town of Marrow Junction, and the air inside the Grocery Barn was a welcome relief. My mom and I had...

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The Halo of Static

The summer I turned twelve, my family moved into the Solano Arms, a sprawling, sun-faded apartment complex on the outskirts of Tucson. My mother worked the morning shift at a...

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The Count of the Closet Doors

The summer heat of that December clung to the brick walls of the old farmhouse like a fever. My partner, Elena, and I had driven six hours to visit our...

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The Room at the Garden’s End

I remember the summer before I turned thirteen as a season of peeling paint and long shadows. We had moved to a sprawling Victorian house that had once been a...

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The Pale Runner

It was late October, and my wife Elena and I were driving home from a dinner party in the countryside. The quickest route back to the city was a narrow,...

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The Looming Static

In the autumn of 1976, I was fifteen, living in a cramped two-bedroom flat on the third floor of a peeling Victorian in the Hilltop district of a midsized city...

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The Last Hum

Marta had convinced herself that the whole ordeal was a product of exhaustion. Six months in the new apartment, and the city’s constant rumble had played tricks on her. The...

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The Bonnet’s Lament

The old Holloway Grounds had been a burial place for over two centuries, its weathered headstones leaning like crooked teeth. My friends and I, a group of six including myself,...

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The Hollow Key

Three weeks after the fire that took the old chapel, I still couldn’t sleep past two in the morning. So when I got up for a glass of water, I...

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The Hollow Field

In the autumn of 2012, my friend Leo and I decided to attend a underground techno festival held in an abandoned industrial park on the outskirts of Karlsruhe, Germany. The...

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The Static Between Us

The house on Lotus Lane had always felt off to Ellie, even before the divorce. It wasn’t the creaking floors or the way the wind moaned through the attic—it was...

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The Candle in the Greenhouse

My grandmother’s house had a greenhouse attached to the kitchen, a glass coffin full of ferns and geraniums that smelled of damp earth and old tomatoes. I must have been...

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The Third Hour

It was 3:17 AM when I woke with a start, my heart hammering against my ribs. The room was pitch black, but I could see my breath curling in the...

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The Cobalt Ledger

The Cobalt Ledger My name is Elara, and I never believed in the old tales. My grandmother, Nana, used to warn me about the abandoned textile mill at the edge...

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