The Hum of the Unseen
Rain lashed against the attic window, each drop a frantic tattoo on the glass. Inside, Elias and Finn huddled together, the only illumination a single, sputtering flashlight casting long, dancing...
Rain lashed against the attic window, each drop a frantic tattoo on the glass. Inside, Elias and Finn huddled together, the only illumination a single, sputtering flashlight casting long, dancing...
Leo and his friend Sam were exploring the old attic. The only light came from a small, dusty window. Leo hid behind a large wooden trunk, waiting to jump out....
My family moved into the former railway station when I was thirteen. For the first few days, everything was peaceful. Then the noises began. The old conductor’s stool in my...
In the autumn of 1987, my cousin Delia and I were sitting on the warped front steps of my grandmother’s farmhouse, which was bordered by a towering, unkempt privet hedge...
When I was sixteen, I found myself in a peculiar farmhouse in Maplewood. I had traveled there to spend a week with my childhood friend, who had just moved into...
I was sixteen when I saw it happen, in the summer of 2009, at a derelict homestead in the hills of West Virginia. My friend Danny’s family had bought the...
The old manor house sat on a sprawling estate, overgrown with a wild, untamed beauty that hinted at neglect. Eleanor and her younger sister, Clara, had only been there a...
In the autumn of 2004, I inherited my great-uncle’s farmhouse in the remote countryside of northern Vermont. The house was a sprawling Victorian relic, with peeling wallpaper and a staircase...
I’m a nineteen-year-old art student, and I’ve always prided myself on my rational mind. Skepticism was my armor, and logic my sword. That was before the incident in the basement...
On the night of November 3rd, 1998, my grandmother lay in a coma at St. Jude’s Hospital, her frail body tethered to a web of tubes and wires. I was...
On a chilly night in early March, Mia felt a heavy weight in her heart. Her father had been in the hospital for weeks, fighting a tough battle. Rest was...
The old farmhouse had always been a stubborn thing, and my father’s death hadn’t softened it. We’d inherited the place after the funeral, and the renovation was my way of...
I remember the night it happened, not because of the dream itself, but because of what came after. I had been building a website for a client, a local historian...
When I was nine, my family moved into a house that had been built by my great-grandfather on a plot of land that had been in our family for generations....
The lighthouse on Kestrel’s Point had been in my family for four generations, and the dead had always been as much a part of it as the salt-scoured stones. They...
There are moments in a life that defy the neat explanations we cling to, moments that slip through the cracks of reason and leave a residue of the inexplicable. I...
In the autumn of 2019, my friend Dana and her two-year-old son, Leo, came to stay with me at my grandfather’s old farmhouse in rural Vermont. The house had been...
The flyer was taped to the bulletin board at the gas station, the paper yellowed and curling at the edges. It advertised a ‘Public Paranormal Investigation’ at the Derelict Creamery,...
In the autumn of 1987, my sister Elaine and her husband Tom had just moved into the ground floor of a two-story house on the outskirts of a tired mill...
In the summer of 1990, Clara and her husband Mark moved into a quaint old house that had been divided into two homes. Clara’s mother-in-law resided in the upper unit,...
I never used to believe in the stories my grandmother told about the old house, but after what happened, I can’t ignore them. My name is Lena, and I’ve always...
My name is Leo, and I’m nineteen, living in a basement suite in Edmonton, Alberta. It’s a cramped, damp place with a single window that looks out onto a forgotten...
When I moved into a quaint old house in a quiet neighborhood, I thought it was the perfect place for my partner, Alex, and me to start anew. The first...
The house on Hemlock Lane had always been drafty, but that night the cold seemed to seep through the walls, clinging to my skin as I tidied the living room....
Listening to the woods...
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