Ghost stories from Ghost Tours & Haunted Hotels

The Silver Door

I had spent years chasing ghosts with a skeptic’s heart, visiting every famed haunted house from the whaling inns of New England to the moss-draped mansions of the Deep South....

The Hollow Stones

On the last Saturday of August, through the heat-buckled back roads of rural Vermont, my family and I finally arrived at the site of the old Meridian Asylum. I’d begged...

The Unseen Guest

I had always been drawn to the macabre, so when my old college friend, Marcus, invited me to visit him in Edinburgh, I jumped at the chance. We spent our...

The Cobblestone Playmates

I hadn’t logged into this forum in months, mainly because of what happened at the old mill town. You see, I’m part of a traveling history club that visits historical...

The Warden’s Ledger

The advertisement surfaced on a Tuesday, wedged between ads for vintage farm equipment and a county fair. It promised an overnight vigil at the old Brannigan Industrial School for Boys,...

The Gravel Teeth

The old Harlow place had always been a dare, a joke we told around campfires to make the new kids squirm. I’d driven past it a hundred times on the...

The Coatroom in the Attic

I had spent my childhood in the shadow of the Meridian House, a sprawling, eccentric mansion that twisted and turned upon itself like a fever dream. My grandmother had worked...

The Ledger of Last Rites

The summer of 2007 was sticky and unforgiving in Savannah, Georgia, a city where the past refuses to stay buried. My daughter, Lily, had just turned eight, and my older...

The Iron Lullaby

Mara had always been a practical woman, a single mother who worked double shifts as a nurse to give her son, Leo, a decent life. Leo, at ten, was a...

The Coolie Hat on the Jetty

The ferry cut through the grey morning mist, carrying our small group toward the abandoned leper colony on Poveglia’s forgotten sister island. Our guide, a thin man named Callum with...

The Maplewood Chair

Last summer, two years after my father left, my mother insisted we take a trip to her sister’s farm in rural Vermont. It was the Fourth of July, and she...

The Hollow Ledger

The mansion had always been a liar. Its ivied walls and gargoyle-grimaced eaves whispered of centuries, yet the deed in my hand, dated 1968, claimed it was born of a...

The Ballroom Mannequin

My husband Elliot and I chose the RMS Aurania for our honeymoon’s first leg, a decommissioned ocean liner turned museum and hotel. I’d always been fascinated by the paranormal, but...

The Glasshouse Listener

On the first Tuesday of April, I drove with my husband-to-be and his Aunt Rita from the outskirts of Baltimore to the old Riverside State Reformatory, a sprawling Victorian pile...

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