The Hollow Current
I never believed in the old stories about the Blackwood Reservoir. Nestled in the folds of the Vermont hills, it was a place of serene beauty during the day, its...
I never believed in the old stories about the Blackwood Reservoir. Nestled in the folds of the Vermont hills, it was a place of serene beauty during the day, its...
My introduction to Aunt Rania’s home was through a long, dusty road that cut through a wasteland of cracked earth and skeletal shrubs. The house itself was a tired, two-story...
My name is Elias Thorne, and I have always been drawn to the macabre, to the tales that make the spine tingle and the skin prickle. I devoured horror novels...
It was two in the morning when the highway spat us out onto a dirt road that didn’t exist on any map. My friend Arjun had been driving for hours,...
I have always been a skeptic. Even as a child, I demanded proof before I believed in anything—ghosts, gods, or the stories my grandmother whispered about the mountains. But what...
My father, a retired army officer, had always been a man of logic and discipline. When we moved to the coastal town of Visakhapatnam after his service, he chose a...
Inspector Arjun Deshmukh had spent the last three hours in a windowless conference room, the air thick with stale coffee and the drone of his superior’s voice. The meeting was...
Ananya had never believed in ghosts. As a child in her family’s ancestral home in Varanasi, she’d scoffed at the stories of wandering spirits that her grandmother told her. But...
My father worked for the state irrigation department, and every summer we would spend two weeks in the government guesthouse at the edge of the town of Bhuj, near the...
In the autumn of 1987, I took a post as a junior archivist at the Kirkside Hall Observatory, a sprawling stone complex perched on a wind-scoured promontory off the coast...
The monsoon had been relentless that year, turning the grounds around the temporary shelters into a slick of mud and rust-colored water. The shelters themselves were long, single-story structures of...
In 1972, my family moved from a cramped apartment in the heart of Hyderabad to a new house on the city’s edge, where the buildings gave way to scrubland and...
It was a night that hung heavy with the smell of rain-soaked concrete and burnt coffee, the kind of night that makes a person question their life choices. I was...
In the sweltering heat of 1924, in the dusty village of Kharagpur, nestled in the heart of British India, lived a prosperous zamindar named Kunwar Singh. He was a man...
It was a Tuesday evening when my world tilted on its axis. I was in the study, reviewing blueprints for the new bridge project, while my daughter, Mira, tackled her...
My name is Arjun, and I grew up in the misty hills of Darjeeling, where the clouds cling to the slopes like damp shrouds. My family sent me to a...
It was the summer of 2017 when I returned to my hometown of Kochi, a coastal city that smelled of rain and diesel. My family had gathered to celebrate my...
In the autumn of 2014, I was twenty-one and living with my grandmother in the small, fog-shrouded town of Ashford Hollow. My cousin, Elena, was six months pregnant and had...
The evening had settled over the Chawla Colony like a gray blanket, muffling the sounds of the city into a distant hum. My parents had taken my younger brothers to...
The house was a Victorian relic, pressed between newer, sleeker homes like a fossil in a quarry. My brother, Adrian, had rented it for its solitude, a place to finish...
Two years ago, when I was sixteen, I lived in a house that had always felt too quiet. My family had moved to a small town in the middle of...
In the autumn of 1978, the old mill town of Ridley Falls was a maze of brick tenements and shared courtyards. My grandmother, Elara, lived in one of those connected...
The day we moved into the flat above the D’Souza household, I was thirteen, and the monsoon had just begun to scratch its fingers against the windows. Our old life...
I’m not a superstitious person. I grew up in a small flat in the outskirts of Nagpur, where the walls were thin and the neighbors talked louder than the television....
Listening to the woods...
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