Ghost stories from Misc

The Ajar Door

The wardrobe arrived on a Tuesday, wrapped in thick plastic and smelling of mothballs and cedar. My grandfather, a man of few words and many superstitions, had insisted we take...

The Weight of Hollow Feet

Ever since the incident at Marcus’s place, I’d been sleeping with one eye open. The thumping on his roof had been relentless—a heavy, measured tread that went on for hours,...

The Last Bell of St. Agnes

The seasons had a way of blurring together in that stretch of the Nebraska prairie, where the only landmarks were the grain elevators and the occasional windbreak of cottonwoods. I...

The Saltwater Lullaby

My grandmother used to tell me about my sister’s invisible friend. She called him ‘Marlow.’ When my parents would ask about him, my sister, then barely five, would beam and...

The Porcelain Witness

The annex was a squat, windowless concrete block that squatted at the edge of the schoolyard, a cold afterthought to the main building’s red-brick grandeur. Its door was a slab...

The Old Quarry’s Bargain

My name is Elias, and I’ve spent my whole life chasing ghosts. It started when I was eight, on a sun-scorched afternoon in the summer of ’92. My stepmother-to-be, Carol,...

The Looping Kitchen

When I was twelve, my family and I traveled to my Aunt Rosa’s trailer in the dusty outskirts of Marfa, Texas. The heat that summer was a relentless, dry pressure...

The Arrangement of Coins

The move was a blur of cardboard boxes and packing tape, but the destination was far from welcoming. Our temporary haven perched atop a narrow, sloped street in a town...

The Wheelchair Ramp

It was late summer 2016 when I first laid eyes on the place. My girlfriend, Lena, was five months pregnant, and we were desperate to escape the cramped apartment above...

The Lantern’s Gaze

I was twelve when I first saw the lantern light in the orchard. My family had moved to the old Mercer farm that summer, a sprawling property with a decaying...

The Face in the Static

The new house was a blank slate. After years of living in a place that hummed with unseen presences, I had finally settled into a quiet, modern home that felt...

The Lace Frame

I never told anyone the full truth about the lace frame. My name is Elena, and I’ve been seeing things since I was a child, but not in the way...

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