Ghost stories from United Arab Emirates

The Crooked Pine

The pines on the ridge stood like mourners, their needles a somber green against the gray sky. I had come to the Hermitage of the Still Water to escape the...

The Static Between Us

The phone rang at 3:17 AM, a shrill, mechanical sound that cut through the humid silence of my apartment. I fumbled for the receiver, my heart hammering. ‘Hello?’ I croaked....

The Green Sentinel

In the sweltering summer of 2006, I, Asher, was fifteen, and my family had traveled to the outskirts of Marrakech to visit my aunt. Her house was a traditional riad,...

The Salt Line

My name is Arjun, and this is the story of the house that taught me the true meaning of thirst. We had been living in a cramped apartment in Pune,...

The Salt in the Air

I first heard the crying in the autumn of last year, in a small, dimly lit pub called The Mariner’s Rest, tucked into a narrow alley in the old fishing...

The Clockwork Tenant

The day we moved into the third-floor walk-up on Meridian Street, I convinced myself the musty smell was just old plaster and forgotten dreams. The flat was twice the size...

The Self-Dialed Call

My name is Arjun, and I am in the eighth grade. Every weekday, after school, I come home to an empty apartment. My mother, Meera, works as a junior architect...

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