Ghost stories from Mexico

The Broken Heel

I never saw the ghost myself. My grandmother did, and she told me the story last winter, huddled by the fire as snow piled against the windows of her cabin...

The Meridian of the Marrow

My name is Elena Vega, and I was twenty-four when I took my first job as a clinical biochemist at the Hospital Central de Monterrey, a hulking, concrete-and-glass tower that...

The Warmth in the Walls

In 2019, I was a 34-year-old quality inspector for a chain of boutique resorts. I’d always been sensitive to the unseen, a believer in the thin veil between worlds. My...

The Cobalt Door

I first noticed the door to the pantry was painted a deep cobalt blue, a stark contrast to the faded cream of the kitchen walls. It was an old farmhouse,...

The Lantern’s Debt

The night air in Villa de las Nieblas clung to Emilio’s skin like a wet shroud, and the distant hum of the mariachi band still throbbed in his ears. He...

The Red Ledger

In the summer of 1991, my older sister Clara took a job at a dusty accounting firm in the outskirts of San Marcos, a town that still smelled of harvest...

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