Ghost stories from Sleep Paralysis

The Woven Dark

The fear started in the yellow house on Maple Street, the one with the porch that sagged like a tired old dog. I was six, and the hallway to my...

The Plaid Couch Incident

It was a sweltering Tuesday afternoon in early August, and I, a fifteen-year-old with a boundless supply of energy, felt an inexplicable exhaustion creep into my bones. I was in...

The Nighttime Visitors

In the late nineties, I enjoyed going out with friends. I was young and loved spending my Friday nights at the local dance club. I shared an apartment with my...

The Tallow Bloom

The old farmhouse sagged under the weight of years, its timbers groaning like arthritic bones. Elara had only lived there six months, a reluctant transplant from the city after her...

The Static Hour

The Pine Hollow Rest Stop wasn’t a place anyone chose to linger. It squatted off Interstate 9, its vending machines humming a tuneless dirge, its fluorescent lights buzzing like trapped...

The Hollow Hour

Maya had stopped checking the clock. It was always the same: a sliver of time between three and four in the morning, when the house seemed to hold its breath....

The Laughing Stains

In the coastal town of Grayhaven, there stood an old cannery that had been converted into a maximum-security prison. The building had a grim history: before it processed fish, it...

The Cold Inheritance

My name is Elias Thorne, and for seven years, I woke up at 3:07 AM every single night, my jaw chattering so violently that my teeth felt like they would...

The Mothman’s Lullaby

I’m Elara, and I’m sixteen. I know that sounds young to be telling you this, but I swear on my grandmother’s grave that every word is true. I’ve always felt...

The Dream That Found Me

I met Clara in art class, and we clicked right away. We spent every afternoon together, painting and talking about everything. One evening, as we sat in her cozy attic...

The Nighttime Visitor

From a young age, Clara had sensed things that others couldn’t. Her parents always listened patiently, but they dismissed her stories as fanciful imaginings. While her father chuckled at her...

The 2:15 Arrangement

Ever since I can remember, I’ve had these… visitations. Not ghosts, not monsters, just a presence. It started in my childhood bedroom, a flicker in the corner of my eye,...

The Ninth Hour Visitor

Milo Reyes had always been drawn to the dark corners of the world, the spaces where reason faltered and the impossible seemed possible. At nineteen, he lived in a cramped...

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