The Clockmaker’s Repose
The first sign came with the wooden clock in the hallway. It had been my grandfather’s, a heavy oak thing with a brass face and a pendulum that had kept...
The first sign came with the wooden clock in the hallway. It had been my grandfather’s, a heavy oak thing with a brass face and a pendulum that had kept...
The house on Mulberry Street had always been a place of muffled sounds and strained silences. For Mira, it was a prison painted in peeling yellow, where the air hung...
In the autumn of 2012, I took a night shift position at Cedar Hollow, a residential care home for adults with advanced memory disorders. The facility was a converted Victorian...
The winter of my tenth year, my family moved to a town called Harrow, where the houses were all built in the same gray stone and the streets were numbered,...
I never believed in ghosts, not really. My name is Mara, and I lived with my grandmother in a creaky old house on the edge of a town that time...
I remember the smell of old wood and dust in that house, a place that seemed to hold its breath between the creaks of its bones. I was nineteen, living...
I was fourteen when we moved into the old farmhouse at the edge of the salt flats, a place where the air tasted of rust and the horizon shimmered with...
My name is Elara, and I’ve just turned fifteen. I live in a small, fog-drenched town on the Oregon coast, where the ocean is a constant, grinding presence. I’ve always...
I am a man of science, or at least I was. At 55, I had spent three decades as a geologist, my life governed by measurable, testable truths. My wife,...
Three weeks before Christmas, Nora and I were nestled in the upstairs guest room of my parents’ farmhouse in rural Vermont, binge-watching a cheesy horror series on my laptop. The...
The end of June, 2015, and my marriage had dissolved like sugar in rain. I found myself in a claustrophobic studio in the basement of a converted warehouse in the...
For weeks after the storm knocked out half the power in our old farmhouse, I tried to convince myself that the flickering lights and phantom beeps were just echoes of...
The morning of the incident, I was in the upstairs bathroom of our old farmhouse, the one with the peeling floral wallpaper and the window that never quite closed. My...
In the autumn of 2016, I was laid up in a rented farmhouse in rural Vermont, recovering from a herniated disc. The surgeon had fused two vertebrae, and the metal...
I’d spent my entire life in a house that breathed. Holloway House, we called it—a sagging, red-brick Victorian on a cul-de-sac in Leeds, where the fog rolled in off the...
My obsession with the restless dead began in the musty stacks of my grandfather’s library, where I read tales of phantoms and unfinished business. It grew into a compulsion to...
On the last Sunday of October, during the quiet hours of the morning, Dr. Alistair Finch was alone in his inherited Victorian house on the edge of the bog. His...
On the night of November 2, 2019, at 11:47 PM, I was alone in my new apartment, a cramped studio in the industrial district of a city that never truly...
I’ve always been able to feel things others can’t—not see them, but sense them. As a child, I thought it was just an overactive imagination, a trick of the dark....
My name is Elias Thorne, and I was born with a tether to the unseen that I never asked for. The midwife who delivered me in the cramped attic of...
It started on a Tuesday, two days after I checked out of that godforsaken motel on the edge of the salt flats. I had driven six hours straight to get...
It was the first weekend of October in 2019, and I had decided to spend it at my grandmother’s remote farmhouse in the Appalachian foothills. She had passed away that...
I’ve always been what they call ‘sensitive.’ Since I was a kid, I could feel the cold spots in rooms where someone had died, hear the shuffling of feet in...
I had never given much thought to the supernatural. It was the kind of thing that existed in campfire tales and cheap horror movies, not in the sun-scorched highways of...
Listening to the woods...
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