Ghost stories from Iowa

The Last Ferry to Marrow Island

I’d spent my whole life reading about hauntings, scoffing at the stories of ghostly apparitions and spectral whispers. I thought I had all the answers: grief manifested as hallucinations, the...

The Papered Walls

The trailer sat at the end of a gravel lane in the scrubby outskirts of Parshall, North Dakota, where the wind never stopped. We’d lived there for six years, wedged...

The Loom in the Parlor

My grandmother inherited a Victorian house in the hollows of West Virginia, a place called Thistle Hollow. The house, known locally as the Wainwright Place, had stood empty for decades,...

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