Ghost stories from Sri Lanka

The Caress of Broken Fingers

Five years ago, I was on a research trip in the misty highlands of the Knuckles Mountain Range, cataloguing endemic flora for a university project. My companions were two colleagues:...

The Painted Gate

When I was six, I lived with my grandmother in a house that leaned against the edge of a forest. Our nearest neighbor was a mile down a dirt road,...

The Paper Boat

Twenty years ago, when I was sixteen and sweating through my Ordinary Level exams, I attended an extra class in the dusty town of Mulapet, a place that existed only...

The Beckoning Light

In 1932, deep in the heart of the Belgian Congo, where the jungle pressed against the village like a living wall, my grandfather, Marcel, was a young man of nineteen....

The Bone Tree Harvest

The old tamarind tree stood alone in the middle of the vacant lot, its gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. We called it the Bone Tree, not because of...

The Bearing Gift

I remember that evening as if it were carved into my bones. The scent of curry leaves and coconut oil drifted from the kitchen, and my fiancée Ruwani and her...

The House on Blackreed Lane

My cousin, Damian, rented a place far upstate, a run-down farmhouse on Blackreed Lane. He and three of his college buddies were studying agricultural engineering at the state university, and...

The Lantern Keeper

It was the summer I turned nine, the summer my family moved to the dusty edge of town where the streetlights gave up and the desert began. Our house sat...

The Seventh Plate

In the autumn of her thirty-second year, Mara returned to her family’s farmhouse for the memorial supper of her great-uncle, a man she had never met but whose presence loomed...

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