Ghost stories from Children Who See Spirits

The Man in the Cornfield

The summer I turned six, my family moved to my grandmother’s farm in the middle of nowhere, Kansas. The house was old, with creaking floors and a porch that sagged...

The Window Nod

On the last night of January, the old farmhouse creaked like a ship in a storm, though the air outside was still. Marta had just settled into the back bedroom,...

The Hollow Stairwell

My name is Elias, and for most of my life, I’ve kept what I’ve seen locked away. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust anyone; it was that I didn’t know...

The Painted Rope

The old farmhouse outside of Lubbock, Texas, had a peculiar history. My family had moved there in the autumn of 1985, when I was six, after my father inherited it...

The Hollow Nursery

The summer I turned nine, my Aunt Marguerite traded her sensible sedan for a rust-colored pickup truck that smelled of hay and old coffee, and we began our weekly escapes...

The Painted Door

My earliest memories are not of lullabies or picture books, but of the woman who sat on the porch swing of the old farmhouse. I was five, maybe six. She...

The Man in the Rain

The winter after our uncle drowned, the house on Maple Street felt like a held breath. My mother moved through rooms with the silence of a ghost, and my father...

The Visitor in the Attic

It began when my daughter, Lily, was four. We were visiting my mother-in-law’s old farmhouse, a place that always smelled of dust and dried lavender. Lily was playing with her...

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