Ghost stories from Canada

The Weight of the Staircase

I’ve had my share of strange experiences, but the ones in my brother’s house were the worst. That house was a century old, with a basement that felt like a...

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The Weight of the House

I was twenty-two and broke, sleeping on a mattress that smelled like old beer and regret. My buddy Leo had found us a place: the main floor of a crumbling...

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The Painted Door

Elena had always prided herself on being rational. A scientist by training, she dealt in data, evidence, and reproducible results. So when her sister Ines called late one night, her...

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The Third Floor Tenant

It was the autumn of my sophomore year when I first stepped into the Garrett house on Thornwood Lane. My buddy Marcus had just moved in with his dad, who’d...

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The Static in the Fuselage

I’ve been an aircraft interior cleaner for nine years, working the graveyard shift at a regional hub. We call ourselves “groomers,” and we know every crack and crevice of the...

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The Silent Cabin Mystery

Working at SkyWay Airlines, I often found myself in the quiet solitude of the aircraft hangar. As a cleaner, I had the late shift, and on this particular night, I...

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The Mirror in Room 4

The mirror had always been there, a heavy antique with a tarnished silver frame, propped against the wall of my room in the Marrow House. It was a bed-and-breakfast my...

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The Broken Tap

Last Tuesday, during the lunch hour, I was stuck in the old gymnasium with my friend, Riley. It was the kind of cold that seeped through the walls, and the...

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The Still House Key

Our house had been quiet for a long time. The old iron key for the back door hung on a hook in the hallway, untouched for years. It was rusted...

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The Unwound Timepiece

The old house sagged under the weight of years, much like the peculiar timepiece mounted above the grand fireplace. It wasn’t a grandfather clock, but an ornate, wall-mounted contraption with...

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The Cinder Garden

In the autumn of 2004, I was living in a secluded farmhouse on the outskirts of a town called Wetmore, where the only neighbors were a family of deer and...

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The Knocker in the Walls

The first time I heard it, I thought it was the wind rattling the pipes. We’d just moved into the old house on Maple Street, the one with the peeling...

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The Stairwell of Broken Light

I’m writing this down because I need someone to believe me, even if that someone is just a stranger on the internet. I’m not crazy, and I’m not alone in...

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The Rocking Chair on Mallow Lane

The road to my school cut through the heart of the reservation, a winding strip of gravel we called Mallow Lane, named after the weeds that choked its ditches. It...

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The Freezer Girl

My house is a converted school bus, not one of those fancy ones you see on Instagram, but a real, rusted-out yellow bus that my father and I spent two...

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The Static in the Vent

I’ve been a listener to this podcast since its first episode, but only now do I feel ready to share my own account. I consider myself a rational skeptic when...

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The Twice-Seen Travelers

The Fraser Canyon stretched before us like a wound in the earth, its walls sheer and black against the last smears of dusk. My daughter Maya and I were heading...

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The Lantern Keeper’s Portrait

Marta and I had always been drawn to the forgotten corners of our small town, where history whispered through the cracks in old stones. Our latest obsession was the Hollow...

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The Weeping Ash

My earliest memory is the cold of the hospital corridor, the smell of antiseptic, and the way the fluorescent lights hummed like trapped wasps. I was five. My mother was...

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The Weeping Field

The summer I turned fourteen, I ran from the foster rotation in Wichita and ended up in a dusty town called Bitterroot, thirty miles past nowhere. The friend who took...

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The Unseen Burden

The sprawling Victorian manor, perched on the bluffs overlooking the restless sea, had been a dubious inheritance for Elias. Its salt-laced air seemed to carry a perpetual chill, even in...

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The Loom of the Final Thread

The morning I signed the papers at the veterinary clinic, the rain fell in sheets that blurred the windows into a gray, watery curtain. Dr. Chen’s voice was a soft,...

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The Hollow Dryer

In the late summer of 2007, our family rented a small, isolated house on the outskirts of a dried-up lake town called Parma. The house was a two-story Victorian with...

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The Painted Gate

The basement of our rented house on Kettleby Lane always smelled of damp earth and old wood, even in the middle of a dry Ontario summer. I was twelve, three...

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