Ghost stories from EVP

The Static Between Songs

Lila had always prided herself on her skepticism. Growing up in the dusty town of Morrow, where the heat shimmered off the asphalt and the only mysteries were which crops...

The Infinite Reflection

When I was six, I started blaming a girl named Mira for every missing sock and misplaced toy. It was a childish game, a convenient excuse, until the excuses stopped...

The Bonefire Pit

On the south edge of our town, where the old money lives behind wrought-iron gates and perfectly trimmed hedges, there is a house that has always seemed to watch the...

The Static Between Panels

Maya had finally carved out a corner of the studio apartment she’d rented after the divorce. It wasn’t much—a folding table, a drawing tablet, and a stack of sketchbooks—but it...

The Static Between Us

In the brittle October of 2016, I found myself living in the spare room of my friend Elara’s house in the town of Morrow, where the autumn fog crept like...

The Clockwork Door

I had worked the night desk at the Blackwood Inn for fourteen years, ever since my husband passed and I needed something to fill the long, quiet hours. The inn,...

The Salted Air

The first time I heard the ocean that night, it was through the screen of my phone, a ghost app I’d downloaded out of sheer boredom. The Maine coast in...

The Door That Breathed

The last night in Tucson, we were at a rundown pizza joint that smelled of grease and regret. My aunt Thelma slid her phone across the sticky table, her eyes...

The Latch That Listens

The day we moved into the converted granary on the outskirts of Fenwick, I told myself the exposed beams and cobbled floors were charming. Maybe that was my first mistake—inviting...

The Lake of Drowned Pines

The day was October 17th, 2023, and I had always been drawn to the forgotten corners of the Pacific Northwest. My sister-in-law, Mara, and her husband, Theo, had booked a...

The Rattling Wire

The summer I turned forty, my daughter Maya and I spent our evenings binge-watching paranormal investigation shows. She was seventeen, already obsessed with the supernatural. We’d laugh at the overacting,...

The Iron Veil

The year I turned forty, I decided to document every headstone in the old Hilliard Falls cemetery. My wife, Clara, thought it was a morbid hobby, but she humored me,...

The Reflected Guest

I’m not the kind of person who believes in ghosts. As a hydrologist, I’ve spent my career studying water systems, and I’ve learned to look for rational explanations for strange...

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