Ghost stories from Lithuania

The Weight of Feathers

I never told anyone about the crying. It started after my great-grandmother passed, in the room I now call my own. She was a small woman, all sharp bones and...

The Lapping in the Walls

I never told anyone about the lapping. It wasn’t a sound you could place, not exactly. It was like a small, desperate tongue against a metal ball, a rhythmic click...

The Still-Faced Clock

It was the last night of the mountain retreat, and Cora’s legs ached from the dance-off that had ended just after midnight. She’d placed fourth, which was fine—she wasn’t there...

The Persistent Knock

It wasn’t the usual slow decay of grief that followed my mother’s death. It was a sharp, lingering absence that seemed to have settled into the walls of the old...

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