Ghost stories from Netherlands

The Salt and Ash House

The summer we turned twelve and nine, our family rented a crumbling farmhouse in the hills of Tuscany, far from the usual tourist paths. The house, called ‘La Casa del...

The Locked Wardrobe

Three years had passed since my mother’s heart gave out without warning, leaving my father and me to navigate a world that had cracked down the middle. I was eighteen...

The Left-Behind Key

The house on Hemlock Lane had always been a little too quiet. For as long as I could remember, I’d wake to find my belongings scattered—my watch on the ceiling...

The Hollow Visitor

In my ninth year, the nights in our new house on Gable Lane were not kind to me. The house itself, a pinched Victorian with rotted gingerbread trim, seemed to...

The Damp Pillow

In the marrow of that November, I was laid low by a fever that clung to my bones like wet wool. For two days, I shivered and sweated, trapped in...

The Cardboard Box

I was nine when we moved into the house on Maplewood Lane, a two-story colonial with a wraparound porch and a backyard that sloped down to a creek. My sister,...

The Locket of Amber

Every morning for a month, Lena woke with the same image burning behind her eyes: a small child, no more than two, sitting on a threadbare rug, clutching a strand...

The Recurrence of Sleep

I never believed in doppelgangers, not until the night my neighbor, Mr. Hargrove, told me he’d seen me cursing at him in the parking lot of the old mill. I’d...

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