Ghost stories from Misc

The Pale Visitor in Apartment 4B

Marla had always been sensitive to the energies of her small apartment, a cramped one-bedroom on the fourth floor of a building that had seen better decades. The radiator groaned...

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The Flickering Hallway

I only ever visited the old farmhouse on weekends. During the week, I lived with my mom in a cramped city apartment, where the walls were thin and every sound...

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Warning Signs And Peculiar Visitors

It was the spring of 2001, and quite frankly, I was in a job that I hated at a local community college. My immediate supervisor was a red-faced, shrewish man...

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The Looming Thread

I’ve never told this to anyone before, because it sounds insane, but I need to get it out. I’ll try to piece it together as best I can. For as...

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The Cartographer’s Loom

In the autumn of 1993, I accompanied my cousin Elias, a cartographer from Lisbon, on a trip to the Atlas Mountains of Morocco. He was there to map ancient trade...

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The Counterpane’s Secret

The first time I felt it, I was drifting off in my third-floor walkup on Marrow Street, the one with the steam radiators that clicked like teeth and a view...

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The Hollow Lullaby

The last thing I remembered was the low hum of the ceiling fan and the weight of sleep pressing down on my eyelids. My name is Rhea, and I had...

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The Feathered Witness

My father never spoke of it until I was nearly thirty. He had kept the memory locked away, buried under decades of skepticism and the quiet rationality of a man...

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The Hollow Man in the Static Field

The first time I saw the Hollow Man, I was five, and we lived in a prefab house on the edge of a town that had given up on itself....

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The Basket Weave

The air in the hills above Port Calico was thick with the scent of damp earth and nutmeg, a smell that clung to the skin like a second layer. Two...

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The Woman at Cinder Alley

My mother, Clara, never spoke of the incident at Cinder Alley until the night before her sixtieth birthday. We were sitting on her porch, watching the fireflies blink over the...

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The Weight of Watching

The summer air was thick with the smell of cut grass and cicadas as I pedaled my bike along the cracked sidewalk. The invitation from my friend, Maya, had been...

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The Hollow Passenger

The first time I saw it, I was twenty-three, living in a cramped studio above a laundromat in the city. The walls were thin, and the constant hum of machines...

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The Lantern in the Wall

The paper mill had been shut down for years, but the smell of rot and old chemicals still clung to the air like a wet blanket. That’s where I found...

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The Clockwork Mannequin

I have never been one to believe in hauntings or the supernatural, not even after what I experienced in the old textile mill that I converted into a studio apartment....

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The Last Tenant

My sister, Dana, has always been the grounded one. She never gave much thought to the supernatural, and our family often joked that she’d sleep through an apocalypse. So when...

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The Salt Line

The first sign that something had changed was when the framed photograph of my father—him holding me as a baby, his face frozen in that gentle, unguarded smile—turned itself face-down...

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The Couch That Breathed

When my friends, Lena and Marcus, moved into their first apartment together, the place was mostly bare. The previous tenant had left a few things, but the most prominent was...

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The Hollow Wall

I haven’t slept in my own room for three weeks now. Ever since that thing in the closet tried to pull the breath out of me, I’ve been crashing on...

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The Weaving of the Rain

In the village of Nam Phou, where the Mekong’s muddy fingers reached into the rice paddies, there lived a girl named Sone. At seventeen, she was the eldest of the...

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The Bone Trail

Last fall, my uncle and I went to a motocross track called the Ashford Ridge in the Ozarks. When we got there, it was a Tuesday morning, and the place...

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The Procession of Every Ending

I have always been a collector of oddities, things that skitter at the edge of sight and whisper in frequencies just out of reach. But the strangest artifact in my...

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The Threshold Keeper’s Bargain

Marla had always been sensitive to the unseen, a gift she’d cultivated through years of solitary practice in the small coastal town of Greyhaven. When she moved into the old...

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The Last Light in the Hollow

In the autumn of 2011, I was fresh out of college, working at a rundown diner in the foothills of the Appalachians. That’s where I met Caleb. He was a...

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