Ghost stories from Indiana

The Last Ferry

I’ve never been one for recurring dreams, and I’ve certainly never had dreams about people I know, at least not with such vividness. But for the past month, my friend...

The Humming Wire

The first sign was the flicker. Not the dramatic sputter of a dying bulb, but a steady, rhythmic pulse, like a heartbeat in the stairwell. I was halfway through a...

Indian Boy

This is my first story, and I feel a little bit nervous (probably because it’s at night, and I usually forbid myself to read ghost stories at night) about sharing...

The Static Garden

The first time it happened, I blamed the old wiring. Our house, a creaking Victorian relic on the edge of Maplewood, was notorious for flickering lights and moody appliances. I...

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Listening for whispers in the dark...
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Listening to the woods...