Ghost stories from Philippines

The Uncovered Glass

I was six when my grandmother first noticed. She said I’d sit in my crib, giggling and cooing at the empty corner, as if someone were playing peek-a-boo. My mother...

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The Knocker’s Lullaby

I was a sophomore at Dunsinane University, a sprawling campus of moss-covered stone and ivy-choked towers, nestled in the damp hills of the Pacific Northwest. The dormitory, Thorne Hall, was...

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The Railing’s Grip

I remember the day we moved into the Amber Halls, a sprawling complex of mid-century apartments that loomed over the edge of the city like a concrete monument to forgotten...

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The Last Ferry

My father, Elias, passed away on a cold November morning in 2015, a few hours after my daughter’s sweet sixteen. He had been drinking heavily, but that was nothing new....

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The Lamplight Protocol

In the autumn of 2014, I created an account under the handle ‘LumenArchivist’ to document the peculiar occurrences that plagued my family. It wasn’t until I attempted to log in...

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The Passenger Manifest

The alarm clock on my nightstand glowed 2:47 AM, but I was already awake, sitting bolt upright in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. Tears...

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The Billboard Man

My father, Roland, was a sign painter in a dusty Texas town. He could turn a blank plywood board into a lurid sunset or a grinning cowboy in a single...

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The Roof Lantern

I was thirteen the summer my family moved to the outskirts of Mariveles, a town where the heat clung to your skin like a second layer, and the nights were...

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The Wet Nurse of Hollow Cove

The town of Hollow Cove had a peculiar relationship with the sea. It wasn’t the salt that clung to every surface or the endless gray of the sky that made...

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The Upstairs Playroom

The old farmhouse outside of Ipswich had been in Ellie’s family for generations, but it had been abandoned for years before she inherited it. The plan was simple: a weekend...

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The Last Curtain Call

I never believed in ghosts until I started working as a night janitor at the old Grand Majestic Theater. It’s a decaying relic from the 1920s, perched on the edge...

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The Sixth Chair

Our family home was a sprawling, century-old farmhouse that creaked and groaned like an old sailor. The walls held the memory of generations, and the attic was a graveyard of...

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The Iron-Tongued Bell

I never believed in the stories about the old Saint Agatha Institute until the summer I turned twelve. My great-grandfather had converted the convent and its orphanage into a boarding...

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The Ceiling Fan’s Lullaby

The apartment on Magiting Street had always been a place of transient lives. I, Elara, shared the cramped two-bedroom unit with my cousins, Marco and Lianne. The compound, a tight...

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The Cinder Room

The house on Aragon Street had once been a leper colony, or so the old-timers whispered over their beer in the nearby sari-sari store. It stood three stories of crumbling...

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The Locked Door at Dawn

In the autumn of 2014, I found myself trapped in my Aunt Miriam’s rambling Victorian house as the first nor’easter of the season battered the New England coast. My own...

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The Polaroid That Wouldn’t Stay Deleted

The winter fog was thick enough to swallow the village whole, and the only sounds were the crunch of boots on frozen gravel and the distant barking of a dog....

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The Mannequin in the Attic

I never considered myself a believer in the uncanny. I was raised in a strict Lutheran household, but by my late twenties, I had drifted into a comfortable agnosticism, content...

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The Painted Door

It was a sweltering Saturday in late August, and the air in the auditorium of McKinley High was thick with the smell of paint and dust. The Beautification Project—a summer...

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The Hollow Floor

I never believed in ghosts until I moved into the old farmhouse. It wasn’t the kind of place you’d expect to be haunted—no creaking gates or shadowy corners. Just a...

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The Last Ferry

The invitation had come through a chain of forwarded messages, each one adding a layer of urgency. Our final year at the university in Cebu City was ending, and a...

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The Lantern Man’s Hand

Mrs. Albright was only six months into her pregnancy when she first saw the figure. It was a cold, wet October night, and the wind rattled the old farmhouse’s loose...

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The Moonlit Mango

When I was nine, we lived in a dusty town called San Rafael, where the church bell rang at odd hours and the old folks sat on their porches, chewing...

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The Salt Stains

I never thought of myself as special. Just a guy with a slightly leaky brain, catching glimpses of things that shouldn’t be there. Not like the kid in that movie,...

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