The Pale Custodian
I was eight when the house on Bramblewick Lane chose us. It wasn’t the house, really, but the land it sat on—an acre of gnarled oaks and a pond that...
I was eight when the house on Bramblewick Lane chose us. It wasn’t the house, really, but the land it sat on—an acre of gnarled oaks and a pond that...
The year was 1988, and the salt-laced air of Monterey did little to cool Elias’s burgeoning desperation. Laid off from the coastal engineering firm, his days had bled into a...
In the autumn of 1967, the Hartwell family settled into a sprawling Victorian house in the outskirts of Duluth, Minnesota. The house was a fixer-upper, with peeling wallpaper, creaking floorboards,...
The house on Maple Lane was a blank slate, all pale drywall and gleaming oak floors, smelling of fresh paint and sawdust. We’d moved in three weeks ago, my mother,...
I never believed in haunted objects until the day my sister came screaming out of her room, clutching a mask that seemed to shift in her hands. It was a...
I remember the summer I turned twelve, when the heat made everything feel slow and sticky. My friend Chloe and I were bored of the same old games, so when...
Our old house on Maple Street had a basement that always felt colder than it should, even in July. I was eight when my little brother Theo turned three, and...
In the summer of 1998, I was twelve and sent to stay with my Aunt Mara in the remote town of Culver’s Bend, nestled among the cornfields of Nebraska. Aunt...
When the aerospace firm in Denver folded in 1994, I figured my mechanical engineering degree would find me work within a month. But the city was awash with laid-off techies,...
On the last day of September in 1994, my sister and I stood in the dusty hollow of the old Murkwood house, which we’d inherited from a great-aunt we barely...
When my partner, Lena, and I bought the old farmhouse on the outskirts of Millbrook, we thought we’d found our sanctuary. The place had stood empty for a decade, its...
In the autumn of 2008, I was eight months pregnant with my first child, a girl we planned to name Amelia. We lived in a sprawling Victorian house my husband...
The night the power grid collapsed was the same night Mara’s tongue turned to desert. She blamed the cheap instant noodles she’d been living on, the ones that promised flavor...
June 2012. A small, isolated research station in the Alaskan tundra, thirty miles from the nearest town. I’m a glaciologist, not a paranormal investigator, and I’ve always prided myself on...
The drive back from the coastal town had been a blur of salt air and endless highway, but by the time I pulled into the gravel driveway of our new...
The summer before my junior year, my cousin Maya turned seventeen, and my aunt threw her a lavish birthday weekend at our family’s lakeside cabin. The last night, after the...
It has been forty years since that autumn evening in the fall of 1983, yet I can still recall every detail with the stark clarity of a photograph developing in...
The house on Mercer Lane was supposed to be a fresh start, a modern glass-and-cedar structure that bled light into the cold Maine autumn. Clara had chosen it for the...
The placement test had gone better than I expected, and the spring sun felt warm on my shoulders as I walked back to the shared house in Portland. I called...
In the autumn of my fifteenth year, my family moved into a house that had sat empty for nearly a decade. The previous owners had left in haste, leaving behind...
In the autumn of 2014, I moved into a Victorian house in the outskirts of a small town called Hollowbrook. The house was a inheritance from an estranged great-aunt, and...
After my grandmother passed, I inherited her old farmhouse in the remote town of Varnwood. Among the dusty relics she left behind was a heavy wooden crate she had kept...
I never believed in ghosts, not really. My name is Elias, and like most people, I thought the dead stayed dead. But then I moved into my great-aunt’s house in...
The summer I turned seventeen, my parents uprooted us from the flat Texas plains to the damp, forested hills of upstate New York. They’d bought a fixer-upper near the Canadian...
Listening to the woods...
🕯 Log in to view your wish history and Willow's responses.
LOG IN TO THE WOODS