Ghost stories from Medium

The Silent Auction

Four months ago, my phone buzzed with Mom’s ringtone—a cheerful marimba that always made me smile. I answered, expecting her usual chatter about the garden or the neighbors’ new dog....

The Leaf That Watched

The old farmhouse had always been a place of quiet unease for Lena. The air inside was thick with the musty scent of decaying wood and dried herbs, and the...

The Unquiet Soil

In the autumn of 2009, I found myself suffocating under the weight of a failed marriage and the ashes of a life I had once dreamed of. My name is...

The Seventh Cup

Every Friday evening, the five of us gathered at the Jade Kettle, a teahouse nestled in the old industrial district, its brick walls scarred with soot and time. We were...

The Salt Line

I never believed in the family curse, not really. Even after my uncle Angus died, sprawled on his tartan sofa with a half-finished game of dominoes scattered across the coffee...

The Porcelain Task

I’ve always been a skeptic, but my dreams have a way of blurring the line between sleep and waking. Last autumn, I moved to a small coastal town named Dredge...

The December Visitor

In the autumn of 1994, I was a junior at Aldergate University, a small campus nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I had a close-knit group of...

The Cackling Pumpkin

My name is Willow, and I’ve always felt the presence of the unseen. It’s not a sixth sense or a curse; it’s just a fact of life, like the color...

The Fifth Step

I moved to the town of Greyhollow when I was twenty-six, nestled in the foothills of the Alleghenies. It was the kind of place where the forest pressed against the...

The Veiled Visitor

In the quiet town of Ashford, young Elias Turner lay in his narrow bed, the blankets pulled up to his chin. His room was a sanctuary of ordinary things—a wooden...

The Hum of the Hollow

In the autumn of 2012, I joined a group of five colleagues for a weekend retreat to the remote town of Ashford, nestled in the foothills of the Cascade Range....

The Sunday Paper Prophecy

I never considered myself haunted, not in the way movies portray it. No cold spots, no flickering lights, no spectral apparitions in the hallway. But I’ve learned that my mind...

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