The Ember Room
The heat was a physical weight, pressing down on the tin roof of the old cannery that HPI had converted into their base of operations. Inside, the air was thick...
The heat was a physical weight, pressing down on the tin roof of the old cannery that HPI had converted into their base of operations. Inside, the air was thick...
The first time I saw it, I was eight years old, sitting on the cracked vinyl of my grandmother’s porch swing in the heart of the Dust Bowl. The air...
At twenty-six, divorced with two small boys, I took a job as the night manager of the Cinder Crossing Diner, a lonely speck of chrome and neon on the edge...
Marla, a 23-year-old graphic designer, had just moved into a charming but old townhouse in the historic district of a city she had only recently known. She was not superstitious,...
The call came on a Tuesday, the first of November. I was nursing a chai at the Dew Drop Inn, a diner perched on the edge of a town that...
I have always been a devout man, my faith as solid as the old oak pews in the little chapel my grandmother took me to as a child. That faith...
The house on Alder Lane had been split into a duplex by the previous owner, a retired carpenter who’d gone mad before he died. My family moved into the lower...
The cabin had never felt more like a splinter in the world than on that October morning. I’d driven up the rutted logging trail the night before, the truck’s headlights...
When we first moved into the old farmhouse on Cinder Lane, I was nine and my brother, Jake, was seven. It was a sprawling, weather-beaten structure with a wraparound porch...
I was sixteen the summer we moved to the old farmhouse on Foxglove Lane. My parents had inherited it from a distant aunt, and they saw it as a fresh...
The old Blackwell place sat at the end of Cinder Hill Road, a name that felt too neat for a farm that had burned down twice. The first fire, back...
I swear on my mother’s grave that everything I’m about to tell you happened exactly as I describe it. No embellishments, no tricks of the mind. It was a Tuesday,...
My name is Ellen, and this happened to me about a month ago. My partner, Marcus, and I have been renting a small house on the edge of town for...
My name is Justin and I have been in my brand new house for almost 5 years now and I still remember what I saw and to this day it...
My daughter Mira had always been sensitive to things that others brushed off as noise. At twelve, she carried a battered voice recorder everywhere, claiming she could coax words out...
I was twelve when I first noticed the scratching. It came from inside the wall behind my bed, a faint, rhythmic sound like a fingernail dragging across plaster. My stepfather,...
The summer I turned twelve, my family moved into a house that my great-aunt had left to my mother in her will. It was a sprawling, three-story Victorian in the...
My aunt Cora, my cousin Tess, and I rented a converted lighthouse on a stormy stretch of coastline for the weekend. The lighthouse, named ‘The Sentinel,’ stood on a rocky...
It was a late October evening when my daughter Maya and I settled onto the worn couch in our farmhouse, a thick quilt draped over our legs. The television flickered...
I didn’t use to believe in ghosts. I was a practical woman, a nurse, a mother of three, and my husband was a civil engineer. We lived in a renovated...
This is the second time I have had an experience like the one I am about to tell. Strange things seem to happen around or close to my birthday. Yesterday,...
The stalks were tall and dry, rustling in the October wind like the whispers of a hundred thousand insects. That was the first thing I noticed about the farmhouse Aunt...
The Crooked Row When I first met Mara, she was selling peaches from a wooden crate at the edge of a farm market that stretched like a patchwork quilt across...
My name is Mara, and I am fourteen. This is what happened in the summer before my freshman year. We were at my grandmother’s farmhouse in the Missouri Ozarks, the...
Listening to the woods...
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