Ghost stories from Colorado

The Hollow Pump

Our house squats at the edge of the Okefenokee Swamp, where the moss hangs like dead men’s fingers and the water breathes. It was built in the 1940s, but the...

The Bucket Carriers

My family’s first house was in a sun-bleached corner of Arizona, a place where the heat shimmered off the asphalt like a silent curse. I was seven, and the world...

The Salt Room

When I was nine, my family moved into a crumbling farmhouse on the edge of the Nebraska Sandhills. The previous tenants had left in a hurry, abandoning a rusted pickup...

The Waxing Bell

The day we signed the lease for the old hacienda, I had a dream. In the dream, I stood in a courtyard where a gnarled olive tree grew through cracks...

The Lantern in the Pines

I’ve been a Junior Forest Scout since I was seven, and our troop was chosen to organize the annual three-day encampment at the Pine Hollow Reserve in northern Maine. The...

The Draft in the Hall

My name is Elena, and I’ve been a senior caregiver for over a decade. I’ve tended to the dying, the lonely, and the forgotten, but nothing prepared me for the...

The Stairwell’s Debt

My grandmother always said, ‘Don’t stir the pot of the dead; they have their own broth to boil.’ She was the keeper of our family’s strange gift, the one who...

The Weight of the Keepsake

Mara had always prided herself on her rationality, but the moment she stepped into the third-floor walk-up on Mulberry Lane, a cold dread settled in her bones. It was October...

The Rectangular Sound

The old farmhouse sat at the end of a gravel road, a half-hour drive from the nearest town, where the only light pollution came from the moon and the occasional...

The Bone Knocker

The house my family moved into when I was thirteen stood on a windswept bluff above the Missouri River, a rambling Victorian that had been pieced together over decades. The...

The Frosted Glass

We moved into the old Harrington place on the edge of Maple Hollow when I was fourteen. It wasn’t as grand as the name suggested; it was a drafty Victorian...

The Cobalt Threshold

Marta and I were hunched over our chemistry textbooks in the dining room of my aunt’s old farmhouse. It was the first of April, but the chill in the air...

The Broom That Stood

I’m a graduate student in atmospheric sciences at the University of Northern Colorado in Greeley, and this is about my girlfriend, Maya, and her roommates in Warde Hall. They’ve had...

The Drowned Garden

My grandmother’s farm in the Missouri Ozarks was the kind of place that felt older than time itself. The fields were overgrown with wild blackberries, and the woods behind the...

Ghost Stories by categories

Ghost Stories by countries

⚡ WILLOW LIVE
Listening for whispers in the dark...
Real-Time Whispers Stream
REAL-TIME

Listening to the woods...