Ghost stories from Russian Federation

The Gilded Lock

The move into the Arlington Crest was meant to be our fresh start. A gleaming tower of glass and steel that pierced the perpetual gray of early spring, it promised...

The Beige Gradient

In the heart of the provincial settlement of Ostrova, where the birch trees line the cracked asphalt like skeletal fingers, stood a shopping center that the locals called by its...

The Unfinished Layer

After three months of relentless searching, we finally found a sanctuary in the sprawling suburb of Novokuznetsk, a city that pulsed with the hum of industry. Our jobs were on...

The Wicker Wardrobe

The departure from the city was a relief, but the journey itself felt heavier than it should have. Mira and I had been living out of suitcases in a cramped...

The Ferment of Two Rivers

The heat in our cramped apartment was relentless, a wet blanket that clung to every surface. I’d moved to the old mill town of Verkhnyaya Polyana for a semester abroad,...

The Salt Gate

The smell in my flat was a stubborn tenant, a sour-sweet ghost of decay that clung to the kitchen and sometimes the dining room. I fought it with bleach, with...

The Hot Room

I moved from Ohio to a village called Olkhovka, tucked in the Ussuriysk district, chasing a dream of apprenticing under a master woodcarver named Pyotr. My grandmother had arranged for...

The Fifth Floor

Marta had always been practical, a fact her friends found amusing given her job as a museum archivist. She spent her days cataloging artifacts, most of them centuries old, and...

The Glass Eye

In the autumn of 2016, my grandmother, Vera, and I shared a cramped studio apartment in the outskirts of a city that never truly slept. The building was a relic,...

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