Ghost stories from Poltergeists

The Floorboard’s Debt

I never believed in ghosts. Not really. But when my best friend, Danny, told me about what happened to him in that old house on Mulberry Lane, I couldn’t shake...

The Clockmaker’s Debt

The rain hadn’t stopped for three days, and the old farmhouse creaked like a ship at sea. I’d gathered my cousins and friends for a weekend of board games and...

The Static Field

I never thought much of the old house on Blenheim Road, not until the night the lights started acting up. I’d moved to Port Fremantle for a fresh start, and...

The Lagging Step

The town of Grayhaven held a peculiar tradition, one that had been passed down through generations like a whispered curse. It wasn’t the usual warnings about dark forests or abandoned...

The Chalky Witness

The old mission of San Esteban had been on my list for years. Perched on a dusty hill above the dried-up riverbed, it was a skeleton of adobe and timber,...

The Mirror’s Debt

My friend Elara had a theory that the old farmhouse she inherited was a gateway. I thought she was being dramatic, but after what we witnessed, I’m not so sure....

The Pale Visitor

It wasn’t about me, not really. It was about my daughters, Lily, Rose, and Fern, ages six, four, and three. We lived in a drafty old farmhouse on the edge...

The Mannequin in the Hall

The old farmhouse on Cinder Lane had always felt like a living thing, its floorboards groaning like tired bones, its walls sweating cold drafts in the summer. We’d moved there...

The Hollow Click

In the autumn of that year, I moved into a small apartment on the third floor of an old brick building, the kind with long, dim hallways and radiators that...

The Salt Line

My grandmother always said the land remembers, even when people forget. We moved to a place called Hollow Creek when I was twelve, a single-wide trailer set on a plot...

The Borrower’s Name

Marta had always been a collector of small annoyances. Her glasses, her favorite pen, the remote control for the television – they’d vanish for hours, sometimes days, only to reappear...

The Air Disturbance

Maya had worked the graveyard shift at the all-night diner for six years. The rhythm of the late hours, the fluorescent hum, the endless coffee—it was her life. She lived...

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