Ghost stories from Philippines

The Unfolded Bed

When I was eight, we lived in a cramped apartment in the industrial part of town, where the only sounds at night were the distant clang of metal and the...

The Brass Bell Toll

The old hacienda in Batangas had been in our family for generations, but it wasn’t until the summer I turned twelve that I understood why my lola always kept a...

The Hollow Comfort

It had been three years since I moved back into my childhood home, a creaking Victorian relic on the edge of a dying town. My marriage had dissolved like sugar...

The Clockwork Guest

In the sweltering hum of an August night, my mother, my younger brother Mateo, and I laid out our thin mats on the cool linoleum of the living room. Our...

The Lantern Man

It was the night of the Barangay Fiesta, and the whole town of San Isidro was alive with strings of colored lights and the distant thump of a bass speaker....

The Hollowed Hearth

The old Salzman place sat at the end of Cedar Lane, a crooked finger of a road that dead-ended into a tangle of pines and brambles. I spent my summers...

The Third-Floor Visitor

I had never believed in ghosts. Not really. I had a rational explanation for everything: drafty windows, settling pipes, a neighbor’s cat. But the house I lived in, the top...

The Glass That Waits

The afternoon sun bled through the dusty window of the water refilling station, casting long, distorted shadows across the concrete floor. My father was sprawled on the old rattan sofa,...

The Spliced Stitch

In 2004, I was nineteen, living with my aunt in the crook of a mountain valley in the province of Antique. Our house, a weathered bamboo structure, perched on stilts...

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