Ghost stories from Honduras

The Keepsake Orchard

Our farmhouse stood at the edge of the Keepsake Orchard, a sprawling tangle of ancient apple trees that my great-grandfather had planted. The trees were gnarled and twisted, their branches...

The Chalk Garden

The house sat on a plot of land that had once been a quarry, a gaping wound in the earth now camouflaged by overgrown brush and a single, defiant oak....

The Lantern Room

Our family moved to the old lighthouse keeper’s cottage on the edge of the salt marshes, three years after my father took the position as curator of the maritime museum....

The Lantern’s Gaze

In the autumn of 1987, the small coastal town of Ashford was still recovering from a series of tremors that had rattled its foundations. The quakes had been minor, but...

The Crawl Under the Static

The summer before I turned eighteen, I moved into my grandmother’s spare room to help her through the nights. She had been diagnosed with emphysema, and the oxygen tank beside...

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Listening for whispers in the dark...
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Listening to the woods...