The Lantern Game
The summer I turned twelve, my cousins and I discovered the abandoned lighthouse on the cliffs of Port Blaine. It had been empty for decades, a rusted spiral staircase leading...
The summer I turned twelve, my cousins and I discovered the abandoned lighthouse on the cliffs of Port Blaine. It had been empty for decades, a rusted spiral staircase leading...
My earliest ghost encounter happened when I was six, during a week-long stay at my aunt’s friend’s farmhouse in the misty hills of Vermont. The house was a sprawling Victorian...
In the autumn of 1962, when I was a boy of eight, we lived in a converted Quonset hut on the outskirts of a small town in upstate New York....
In the foothills of the Cordilleras, where the pine trees stood like silent sentinels and the air was thin and cold, there was a village called Sipitan. It was a...
The province smelled of rain and burnt husks, and Marisol had always hated it. Every summer, her mother dragged the family to Lola Idang’s nipa hut in the middle of...
The summer of ’92 in the barrio of San Isidro, nestled against the Sierra Madre foothills, was a season of relentless heat and the drone of cicadas. My wife, Luz,...
In the autumn of 2018, I accepted a teaching position at a small rural high school in the Ozarks, a two-hour drive from my family home. The long commute proved...
It was a Tuesday when my mother, Lina, first told me about the figure on the roof. She’d been sitting in the dark living room of our rented house in...
I was nine, maybe ten, when it happened, in the old two-story house my family shared with my uncle’s family in the highlands of Benguet. Our room was on the...
I never believed in ghosts. I collected their stories like seashells, pretty and hollow, each one a curve of terror to hold up to the light and then toss back....
Before the storm came and swallowed our little town, we lived on the second floor of the old clinic. The clinic had been abandoned for years, but the landlord had...
In the autumn of 2010, I was a sophomore at a university two hours from home. My cousin Liza and I often spent weekends at our aunt Rosa’s place, a...
I’ve always thought that elementals, whatever you want to call them—spirits, fairies, nature’s guardians—have a particular distaste for loud noise. Three times I witnessed it, and the last one left...
My grandmother used to say that the river behind our village was not a river at all, but a grave that had forgotten to bury itself. The water had long...
The new office occupied a strange slot in the Tower building—a fifteen-story monolith of glass and steel that loomed over the old industrial district. Most companies steered clear of the...
The apartment on Meridian Street had always felt too quiet, even for a bachelor like me. Maya had moved out six months prior, taking her laugh and the smell of...
The summer my grandfather died, the air in our lakeside town was thick with the smell of diesel and dying lilies. I was twelve, and my family had come to...
The old Alvarez house sat on Callejon de los Suspiros, four doors down from our own. It had the same sliding capiz windows, the same stone base and wooden upper...
It was after Cyclone Marikit had torn through our coastal town, leaving behind a maze of twisted metal and salt-soaked debris. The old municipal hospital, which had somehow survived with...
It was the first of November, the day when the dead are said to wander among the living, and we were all gathered in the old house in the village...
We moved into the old Acacia house in the summer of ’98, drawn by the cheap rent and the promise of space. Our family of seven filled the musty rooms...
In the sweltering heat of a provincial Philippine summer, the Dela Cruz family compound stood as a monument to ambition and unfinished dreams. The main house, a sprawling two-story structure...
My brother Callum and I were inseparable, especially during the long summer nights when our parents worked late shifts. Our house sat at the edge of a small town, and...
In the foothills of the Cordilleras, where the pine trees leaned like old men and the fog rolled in with the dusk, stood the Villa de los Suspiros. It was...
Listening to the woods...
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