Ghost stories from Lights

The Lantern Field

Ten years have passed since that autumn night, yet the image remains etched in my mind like a scar. I was fifteen, and we had just moved to the outskirts...

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The Salted Earth

I live in a small town called Grey Hollow, nestled in the folds of the Appalachians. The town was built on the bones of a failed silver mine, and the...

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The Lantern in the Fog

My name is Arjun, and this happened during my second year at a small engineering college in a city that never felt truly awake. That December, our college hosted a...

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The Lantern in the Fern

The trouble began not with a sound or a sight, but with a sensation that crawled under my skin like a slow-spreading frost. It started in the autumn of 2021,...

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The Salt Line

It was the summer of 2002, and I was crashing at my aunt’s place in the sprawling Vista Ridge complex in Phoenix, Arizona, while waiting for my transfer to a...

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The Luminous Corner

I lived on the second floor of an old four-unit building on Maple Street in Flint, Michigan. My apartment was a cramped one-bedroom, and my bed faced a bulky oak...

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The Lantern of the Hollow

I was eleven when my family moved to the old farmhouse on the edge of the Marshwood. The previous owner had left in a hurry, and the place still smelled...

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The Pale Visitor

On a frozen January night in 2015, I stood at the edge of the Larson Quarry, a place we locals avoided after dark. The sky was a tapestry of stars,...

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The Vermilion Gate

The first time I saw it, I was sixteen, standing in the sawdust-choked air of our workshop, screaming at my father over the ruined plans for the harvester. My cousin,...

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The Salt-Dusted Stranger

I’ve always been prone to seeing things that aren’t there, or so my mother insisted. Shadows that moved a beat too late, whispers just beyond comprehension. I learned to ignore...

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The Overflow

The first time I saw it, I thought the pipes were leaking. But the stain on the ceiling above the clawfoot tub wasn’t water. It was a shadow that moved....

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The Third Conflagration

The late summer air was thick with the scent of pine and dust when Elias and I first saw the light. We were ten, sprawled on the worn floral couch...

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The Pattern in Static

The first time I saw the static, I blamed the old television. But the set was off, unplugged, gathering dust in the corner of my apartment. Yet there it was—a...

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The Fern’s Bargain

It was during the summer of my sixteenth year that my family decided to escape the sweltering heat of Manila for the cooler climes of the Cordillera mountains. We settled...

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The Static Between Deliveries

It was one of those nights where the apartment felt like a held breath. I was sprawled on the couch, the blue glow of the TV painting the room in...

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A Piece Of Hell Escaped

First of all, I would like to thank this site for publishing my first experience. That’s why I’m encouraged in making my next experience. As soon as I gained knowledge...

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The Humming Wardrobe

I was nine when my parents took a last-minute job in Crete, leaving me with my great-aunt Margot in the Belgian Ardennes. The house was a sprawling, half-timbered manor, more...

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The Lantern in the Crawlspace

In the damp autumn of 1998, I was eight years old, newly arrived from the sun-soaked shores of the Bahamas to the gray, rain-slicked streets of Portland, Oregon. My father,...

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The Ferrous Visitor

In the autumn of her thirteenth year, Mira moved with her parents to the old Harlow farmhouse, a rambling structure that sat at the edge of a sprawling cranberry bog....

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The Locker That Clangs Twice

I’m Maya, fourteen, and this happened to my best friend Priya and me last month. We’re not the kind of girls who scare easily—we’ve watched every horror movie on streaming...

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The Lantern’s Path Through the Vineyard

My brother and I were fourteen that summer, sharing a narrow room in our great-aunt’s farmhouse that overlooked a stretch of abandoned vineyards. The night air was thick with the...

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The Lantern’s Last Light

The news came through a string of text messages, not from a phone call or a visit. I was sitting in my flat above the old bakery on Mill Lane,...

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The Seasoning Orb

We moved into the old farmhouse in the autumn of 1989, when the fields were still golden and the barn creaked like a sleepy giant. My daughter, Mira, was a...

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The Lantern in the Loft

My grandfather, Arthur, had been gone for three years, but his presence lingered in the old farmhouse like the smell of pipe tobacco and damp earth. He was a man...

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