Ghost stories from Idaho

The Pencil Trap

It began on a humid August night in the backwoods of Maine, where the air clung to your skin like a wet shroud. My friends—Jenna, Marcus, and I—were the kind...

The Paper-Thin Hours

My sister Lena and I grew up in the shadow of the Cinderbone Range, a chain of basalt peaks that looked like the fossilized spine of some colossal beast. Our...

The Unfinished Game

I’m Milo, and I’ve been seeing the dead since I was six. Over the years, their cold whispers and hollow eyes became as familiar as the creak of my grandmother’s...

The Late Call

Three years ago, on a rain-slicked October night, I was in the back seat of a rented sedan, my chest a cage of aching ribs, as my two close friends,...

The Static Child

I remember the night it happened, about three years ago, when my twin brother, Sam, and I went to stay at our cousin’s house. Her place was a renovated Victorian...

The Cinder Man

My name is Milo, and I’m sixteen. I live in a town called Ashford, which is about as ordinary as a place can get, unless you count the old paper...

The Last Tenant

In the autumn of 2005, I moved into a newly renovated studio on the top floor of a converted warehouse in the port district of Greyhaven. The building was a...

The Weight of the Air

We moved to the outskirts of Cedar Falls when I was fifteen, into a sprawling Victorian that overlooked the old Mill Pond. The house was a relic of a bygone...

The Boiling Point

The kettle’s shrill whistle cut through the quiet of my grandmother’s farmhouse, a sound I hadn’t heard since I was a child. My name is Evelyn, and I had inherited...

The Door in the Wind

In the seventeen years I’ve lived on this ridge, I’ve never been one to scare easily. But the night I met the man who bought my old place, I felt...

The Glow and the Growl

It was a Tuesday night when the television flickered to life with a live feed of the Cavern Falls in the town of Redrock, Arizona. The falls were illuminated with...

The Reverse Lullaby

We had been living in the old farmhouse for eight years, ever since we inherited it from my husband’s aunt. The place was drafty and creaked with every gust of...

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