The Tin Token
I’ve been a volunteer at the Ogden Hollow Transportation Museum for three years now. It’s a converted railway depot from the 1880s, all worn brick and creaking timber, and the...
I’ve been a volunteer at the Ogden Hollow Transportation Museum for three years now. It’s a converted railway depot from the 1880s, all worn brick and creaking timber, and the...
My name is Eli, and I’ve spent all sixteen years of my life in the dusty outskirts of Terral, Oklahoma. Most folks think a kid like me has no business...
My buddy Marcus had a way of finding trouble. When he texted me about the old county tuberculosis sanitarium, I should have known better. It sat on the edge of...
The final report sat on my desk, its pages thin as dried skin. For three weeks, I’d combed through the evidence from the Ashford farmhouse, and the truth was a...
I never thought I’d be back in Duncairn, not after the way I left. But when Mara, the team lead for the Spectral Collective, asked me to join an investigation...
My latest ghost hunt took place at Fort Marrow, a decommissioned Cold War radar station perched on a lonely stretch of the North Sea coast. The fortress had been abandoned...
The old dance hall had been dead for decades, but that hadn’t stopped me from dragging my equipment up its creaking stairs. My name is Mara, and I’ve been chasing...
The crypt of St. Aldhelm’s Abbey was never meant for tourists. Its stones were older than the town itself, and the caretaker, a man named Elias Thorne, had warned me...
I’ve spent my weekends chasing the cold spots and static whispers of the unseen, part of a team that calls itself ‘The Veil Seekers.’ This past Saturday, our destination was...
Mara, Theo, and I had been chasing specters since we could barely spell our own names. We’d grown up in a town that seemed to hoard its tragedies, each street...
I’ve always been a believer in the unseen, but never a seeker. So when my friend Derek convinced me to join a paranormal investigation team for a Halloween night event,...
When my friend Marta convinced me to join her and her cousin Diego on an overnight expedition to the abandoned San Vicente Tuberculosis Sanatorium, I agreed mostly out of curiosity....
I never understood the appeal of prom. The rented tuxedos, the corsages wilting in the heat, the desperate need to be seen. I was nineteen, a year out of high...
Last autumn, I had become obsessed with the paranormal after a series of unexplained events in my apartment. I bought a digital voice recorder and a cheap electromagnetic field detector,...
Every autumn, my friends and I would drive up to the old Ridgemont Asylum, a crumbling relic perched on a hill above the fog-choked valley. We’d bring along that ridiculous...
The three of us—my sister Mira, her daughter Leila, and my own girl, Tess—had booked a long weekend at the Crooked Steeple, a crooked-beamed inn that had been serving ale...
The noose of Larchwood was something we’d heard about since we were kids, a grim fairy tale whispered by campfire light in our concrete suburb. Larchwood wasn’t a town anymore,...
The town of Corvid’s Hollow had a history that clung to it like moss on old stones. Founded in the early 1800s, it had seen its share of tragedy: a...
Our team, the Spectral Ledger, had a reputation for methodical rigor. We were the accountants of the paranormal, documenting every creak and chill with clinical precision. So when we got...
I was eight when I first understood that the house on Harker Lane was hungry. Not in a way that could be seen, but in the way a held breath...
The night air was thick with the smell of wet leaves and rust. Our school, St. Aldric’s, was an old converted textile mill, its red brick walls stained dark with...
I turned eighteen in the fall, the same week the first frost bit the reeds along the Ashburne Reservoir. My name is Mara, and I’ve always had a hunger for...
In October 2013, I was visiting my friend Maya at her university in the small town of Ridgeline. We had spent the previous night at a country music festival, and...
The summer of 2011 found me and three friends, Dale, Maggie, and Pete, driving down a dirt road that seemed to fold into itself like a serpent. We were heading...
Listening to the woods...
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