Ghost stories from Florida

The Visitor at the Landing

I never believed in ghosts until the summer we moved into the house on Maple Hollow Road. It was an old Victorian with peeling paint and a porch that sagged...

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The Oakwood Incident

My father is a man of science. At seventy-one, he has spent his life measuring, quantifying, and cataloging the world. He has never believed in ghosts, not even after what...

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The Locked Door and the Other Woman

I was seven when my parents dragged me to the sprawling, run-down farmhouse of their old friends, the Millers. The house itself was a maze of creaking hallways and dusty...

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The Salt Marsh Signal

The day began with the kind of boredom that made the walls of my apartment feel like a cage. I was sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels, when my...

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The Amber Door

The first time I saw the amber door, I was twelve, living in a rented house on the edge of a town called Gristlewood. The house was old, with a...

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The House with the Blue Door

My name is Ethan, and I am now 17. This is the story of the house on Maple Street, the one with the blue door that seemed to watch us....

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The Locked Utility Closet

My mother and I had always lived in a cramped apartment on the outskirts of Austin, Texas, in a building that smelled of mold and old grease. We had our...

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The Visitor in the Hall

I was dozing on the living room sofa, a book open on my chest. A sudden chill woke me. My older brother Leo was standing by the window, his form...

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The Calendar on the Wall

Marta had always considered the old farmhouse her sanctuary, a place where the hum of the city never reached. But after her grandmother’s passing, the house had taken on a...

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The Ticking Clock of the Serpent

The attic air hung thick and still, a cloying scent of dust and forgotten things clinging to Elias’s clothes as he sorted through his late Aunt Clara’s belongings. He’d stayed...

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The Unplugged Ritual

For weeks after the storm knocked out half the power in our old farmhouse, I tried to convince myself that the flickering lights and phantom beeps were just echoes of...

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The Ghost in the Kitchen Floor

In the autumn of 2014, I found myself standing in the kitchen of our new house in a quiet suburb outside of Portland, holding a set of copper-bottomed pots that...

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The Keeper of Tombs

It was a cold October evening when my friend Mara and I pulled up to the old Weston Asylum, a sprawling, decaying complex on the outskirts of a dying town...

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The Exhibit That Wouldn’t Stay Hung

The Corvus Museum of Curiosities occupied the shell of a former textile mill in Lowell, Massachusetts—a red-brick mausoleum of dead industry, its windows staring out at the Merrimack River like...

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Possible Airbnb Ghost?

This incident happened just this morning (6-9-2024) around 6. I really don’t know if it was anything paranormal, but it sure was awfully strange… This is going to be pretty...

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The Last Docent

My interest in the unexplained had always been a quiet obsession, a candle flame I kept sheltered from the winds of skepticism. When I saw an advertisement for a paranormal...

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The Canvas of Daisies

Let me be clear: I’ve never been one for the supernatural, not since the day my faith crumbled like a dry biscuit in tea. But that doesn’t mean I don’t...

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The Drip in the Attic

After my wife passed, I moved into the guest room at the end of the hall. It was a small, practical space with a single window that overlooked the backyard....

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The Dripping Faucet

The Salt Air Motel was a relic from a more innocent era, its peeling white paint and neon vacancy sign buzzing with a tired persistence. My friends Maya and I...

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The Stamp of the Loom

My grandmother always said I had the second sight, but I called it the itch. It was a prickling behind my eyes, a sudden knowledge that something was off—like when...

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The Geiger Counter in the Attic

My mother, Helen, and I had never been particularly close—not until the last few years of her life. She moved to a small town in New Mexico in the summer...

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The Visitor in the Patterned Robe

Lena had always prided herself on being a light sleeper, attuned to every creak and sigh of their century-old farmhouse. But the night it happened, she wished she had been...

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The Art of Quiet

The story came to me through my cousin, Elena, who had a friend named Maya. Maya and her husband, Daniel, had moved into a modest Victorian house on the edge...

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The Stillness at the Foot of the Bed

In the small town of Dunning, nestled between a fog-choked river and the endless pines, there was a house that seemed to hold its breath. Mira lived there with her...

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