Ghost stories from Afghanistan

The Parched Legion

The first time it happened, I was a private sprawled in the dirt of a place called the Arzouk Valley, though the map in my shaking hand said we were...

The Salt Wound

The salt mines of Lyra Valley had a way of making a person feel like the earth itself was breathing—slow, heavy, and indifferent. I had come there as a hydrologist,...

The Code of Entry

Private First Class Mara Jensen had never been one to dwell on the odd occurrences that had followed her like a loyal, if eerie, pet since childhood. A misplaced toy,...

The Lantern’s Guests

When I was seven, my grandmother owned a crumbling lighthouse on a desolate stretch of coast. The keeper’s cottage, where we stayed, was cozy enough, but the outhouse, a rickety...

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