Ghost stories from Canada

The Rotting Staircase

It was the autumn of my sophomore year when my best friend Lena and I convinced ourselves we were ghost hunters. We’d read every internet forum and watched grainy videos...

The Hollow Hour

The night they buried Marcus, I drove the Ridgeway alone. It was a black ribbon of asphalt that cut through the old pines, a road that seemed to fold into...

The Broken Sconce

My grandmother used to say that some houses are like skin—they stretch to accommodate what lives inside, but eventually, they split. Our house in the fading mill town of Ashford...

The Last Ferry to Meridian

My father, Arthur, passed away in October, after a long battle with a degenerative nerve condition. The disease had slowly robbed him of his mobility and his speech, leaving him...

The Lane of Static

The first thing I noticed was the hallway clock. It had stopped at 3:17 AM, and the second hand was twitching, not ticking, like a trapped insect. I live in...

The Mirror’s Debt

At seventeen, I found myself a mother to a squalling infant named Leo, a responsibility I was utterly unprepared for. We lived in a cramped, drafty apartment above a closed-down...

The Blue Lantern

My grand-nephew, Leo, was three when he started talking to the air beside our old farmhouse’s pantry door. ‘He’s waiting,’ Leo would say, his small face serious. ‘He’s been waiting...

The Sawdust Visitor

My name is Elara, and I never expected to inherit my grandmother’s gift. She was a medium, and according to family lore, I was born with the ‘sight’—a fact she...

The Blueberry Box

I remember it was a school morning. I don’t have the exact date, but I do know it was a Tuesday, at 6:38 AM. My brother Felix and I were...

The Sock Warp

As a child, I lived in a cramped apartment block called The Painted Tulip, off a dusty road in the outskirts of our town. I was the kind of kid...

The Copper Toll

In the autumn of 2014, I moved into a rundown duplex on the edge of a deserted industrial district, where the streetlights flickered like dying fireflies and the air always...

The Concrete Hum

My name is Elias, and for most of my life I’ve worked construction, mostly on big, ugly, soul-crushing projects: parking garages, highway overpasses, and the like. I’ve seen plenty of...

The Granary Ledger

I have never been one to believe in ghosts. I’m a practical man, an engineer by trade, and I’ve always found logical explanations for the strange noises that old houses...

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