The Iron Keeper’s Bargain
My name is Elara, and this is the account of the invisible passenger that rode my soul for twenty-three years. It wasn’t until I was finally free of it—through an...
My name is Elara, and this is the account of the invisible passenger that rode my soul for twenty-three years. It wasn’t until I was finally free of it—through an...
I never believed in the old stories about the Tanglewood, not until the night the first thorn appeared. My name is Elias, and I’ve lived my whole life in the...
In the autumn of 1998, I was ten years old, living with my mother, her new husband, and my two-year-old half-sister in a rented farmhouse on the outskirts of a...
In the sweltering heat of a Caribbean night, on the island of Carriacou where the sea sings a low, mournful tune, I learned that the old stories are not just...
In my sophomore year, I lived in an off-campus apartment complex called Oakwood Manor. It was a sprawling, crumbling building with creaky stairs and flickering fluorescent lights. One night, after...
When I was seven, my family moved to a small town in the Canadian prairies, into a sprawling old house that had been converted into a bed-and-breakfast. My parents managed...
I always knew there was something off about me, a feeling that I didn’t quite see the world the same way my friends did. It wasn’t until freshman year that...
When I was nine, my parents moved us into my grandparents’ old farmhouse on the outskirts of a dying town called Millbrook. The house was a sprawling Victorian relic, with...
This incident happened in 1999 when I was on a holiday visiting my cousin Parag at Lonavala (a popular hill station near Mumbai, India). Parag, at that time was in...
In the autumn of 2011, I moved into a narrow, three-story walk-up in the industrial edge of Verona, New Jersey, where the old brick buildings leaned like tired shoulders against...
In the humid twilight of a Virginia summer, my father’s old farmhouse sat like a forgotten tombstone at the end of a gravel road. He had inherited it from his...
The day we moved into the Crestwood Apartments, I knew something was wrong. The building was old, with creaking floors and drafty windows, but the landlord assured us it was...
My name is Elias, and I am a keeper of the old lighthouse on the jagged coast of Merrow Point. I mention this because what happened to me might sound...
It was a sweltering Saturday afternoon when I decided to finally tackle the mountain of laundry and dust that had taken over my tiny apartment. The place was a mess,...
The house on Maplewood Lane had always been quiet. After Dad passed, Mom and I moved in with Grandma, and for a while, it felt like a shelter. But then...
It began eight years ago, in the autumn of 2015, when my mother, Helen, and I visited a so-called spiritual medium in a cramped, incense-choked apartment on the outskirts of...
Mara Voss had always found comfort in the cramped quarters of her attic apartment, a former servant’s room in an old Victorian house that had been divided into cheap rentals....
My name is Daniel, and this began three autumns ago when I accepted a fellowship to study the fading murals in the mountain monasteries of the Vestro valley. The locals,...
The summer I turned seventeen, my cousin Marcus, who was twelve, was in a junior wilderness club. Their annual campout was at the old Hastings Ironworks, a sprawling, rusted complex...
I had grown accustomed to the weight of unseen eyes, a sensation that perched on my shoulders like a patient crow. My parents’ house, an old colonial on a hill,...
The air in the attic hung thick and still, a sepulchral blanket woven from dust motes and forgotten decades. Elara, armed with a flickering flashlight and a desperate resolve, traced...
It was the eve of Kali Chaudas, the dark fortnight that heralds the new year in the village of Bhadarwa. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth...
It has been awhile since I’ve had any kind of demonic experience. Life has been good and I’ve been growing in the Lord. But every once in awhile I still...
The RV lot at the edge of the salt flats had been a last-minute choice. After the incident at my apartment, the one where the air thickened and the walls...
Listening to the woods...
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