Ghost stories from United States

The Remnants of Lucia Vane

After my grandmother passed, my mother and I sorted through the house. The basement, always a place of dread for me, held a collection of forgotten boxes and dusty furniture....

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The Fading of the Hallway Light

The bus groaned to a halt at the edge of a gravel parking lot, and the camp counselors barked for us to form a single line. We were in the...

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The Cobblestone Playmates

I hadn’t logged into this forum in months, mainly because of what happened at the old mill town. You see, I’m part of a traveling history club that visits historical...

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The Lantern of the Hollow Hour

I’m Ellis, and for the past few months, life had been a quiet blur of late-night drives and shared earbuds with my partner, Mira. We’d moved into a creaky Victorian...

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The Spit of the Unseen

At forty-four, Elara Voss had long since filed the incident under ‘childhood nightmares.’ It was a summer evening in the dusty town of Porphyry Creek, where the heat clung to...

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The Wraith in the Crape Myrtle

The thing about August in the Texas Hill Country is the heat. It’s not just heat; it’s a wet blanket that clings to your skin, carrying the smell of cedar...

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The Marble Child

Maya had always been a vivid dreamer, but lately, her nights had turned into a relentless parade of horrors. For three months, she’d woken up gasping, drenched in sweat, her...

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The Looming Static

In the autumn of 1976, I was fifteen, living in a cramped two-bedroom flat on the third floor of a peeling Victorian in the Hilltop district of a midsized city...

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The Man in the Hallway Mirror

I was eleven, the summer before sixth grade, when my mom decided I was old enough to stay by myself for the couple of hours between school and her shift...

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The Last Hum

Marta had convinced herself that the whole ordeal was a product of exhaustion. Six months in the new apartment, and the city’s constant rumble had played tricks on her. The...

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The Cartographer’s Debt

In the sprawling, rain-slicked city of Verranth, I, Elias Thorne, had always been the kind of person who noticed things others missed. It wasn’t a gift, but a curse I’d...

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The Lantern of Hallow Creek

The summer I turned nine, my family moved from the dry heat of Bakersfield to the damp, moss-choked woods of Hallow Creek, Maine. Our new house was a skeletal Victorian,...

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The Weeping Wall

The old farmhouse sat at the end of a gravel road, its white paint peeling like sunburned skin. My brother, Julian, and I had moved there with our parents after...

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The Red Hum

It was the summer I turned thirteen, the summer the heat in our cramped apartment turned the air into a thick, breathing thing. I lay in my narrow bed, drenched...

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The Cinder Man

My name is Adrian, and I am 24 now, living in a dusty little town called Blackwood, out in the central plains where the wind never stops and the cornfields...

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The Hollow Key

Three weeks after the fire that took the old chapel, I still couldn’t sleep past two in the morning. So when I got up for a glass of water, I...

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The Hollow Night

We had left our daughters, Mia and Chloe, and our son, Ethan, with my brother-in-law, Paul, and his wife, Sandra, for the night. We were off to a late party...

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The Last Frame

The night before Halloween in the town of Millbrook was always a strange one. For as long as anyone could remember, ‘Cabbage Night’—as the locals called it—was a time when...

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The Morning Visitor

In the summer of 2019, I was living with my mother in a small, weather-beaten house on the outskirts of a town called Stillwater. My father had passed away two...

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The Porcelain Jester

In the summer of 1986, when I was nine, my parents and I went to stay with Great-Aunt Helga in her old farmhouse in rural Vermont. Helga was a reclusive...

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The Unseen Grocer

The old house on Maple Street had a way of settling that felt like breathing. It creaked and groaned, but some sounds weren’t just settling. I grew up in that...

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The Loom of Sorrow

I’m writing this from a motel room off Route 9, the kind with a flickering neon sign that buzzes like an angry hornet. My hands are still shaking. I need...

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The New Apartment

It happened 4 years ago. My daughter just turned 2. We moved into an apartment. As soon we moved in my daughter just refused to even play in her room....

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The Empty Couch

I was curled up in the worn armchair by the bay window, the last of the afternoon sun slanting across the pages of a dog-eared mystery. My portable CD player...

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