Ghost stories from Philippines

The Locked Ward

The old Grantham Sanatorium sat on a hill overlooking the fog-choked valley of Millbrook. My aunt had been its last head nurse, and when she passed, the entire property—the main...

The Sunken Room

The house had always been too large for just the three of us, but after Lola Ising died, it felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath. I was...

The Ember Touch

In my sophomore year at Northgate University, there was a transfer student named Marcus who claimed he could see things others couldn’t. He’d walk into a lecture hall and mutter...

The Lantern of the Hollow

It was the night of the Harvest Festival at St. Elara’s Academy, a small boarding school nestled in the fog-draped hills of the Appalachian foothills. The festival was a riot...

The Night the Bell Tolled

The salt air clung to my skin like a second layer, a permanent residue of the academy’s relentless proximity to the bay. We were cadets at the Meridian Maritime Institute,...

The Chlorine Hour

The summer I turned twelve, we spent endless afternoons at Ate Bella’s place. She was my mother’s cousin, and she ran a day resort out past the old quarry, where...

The Cinder Path

I’ve always loved the sting of cold air on my face during a ride. Most folks prefer the gym, but give me a bike and a winding trail any day....

The Lantern in the Drum

The summer I turned fifteen, my brother Jude and I moved into our late grandmother’s farmhouse, a rambling place with a tin roof that pinged and popped in the heat....

The Cinder Room

I’ve worked the night shift at Nexus BPO for six years now, ever since they opened the sprawling complex in the industrial district of New Kerava. The building was a...

The Marrow of the Antenna

The office tower of Meridian Digital Services stood on the edge of the old industrial district, a glass-and-steel monolith that caught the winter light like a blade. I’d been a...

The Iron Grate

In the autumn of my second year at Meridian Technical Institute, I worked as a night janitor in the old Engineering block. The building had been a munitions storage facility...

The Sweeper of the Empty Lot

After my grandmother decided to sell the old family house, we moved into my mother’s apartment complex in a dusty provincial town. The building was a sprawling, two-story structure with...

The Concrete Cradle

It was a Tuesday when I finally understood the geometry of loneliness. My name is Elias, and I live in the mountain village of San Agustin, a place the mapmakers...

The Unworn Slippers

Every summer, my cousins and I would migrate to my aunt’s house in the small farming town of Albuera, where the rice paddies shimmered like gold coins under the relentless...

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