Ghost stories from Serbia and Montenegro

The Wintering Oak

I was six when I first saw the tree eat. It was the winter of ’87, the year the river froze solid enough to walk across, and my family had...

The Constant Gaze

My mother had been living with a man named Walter for nearly a year in his converted farmhouse on the edge of Tarrow Creek. I’d only met him twice, brief...

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Listening for whispers in the dark...
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Listening to the woods...