Ghost stories from Kentucky

The Quarry’s Keep

The first time I saw the quarry, it was a wound in the woods, a ragged gash of granite and dark water that swallowed the afternoon light. We’d moved to...

The Cobalt Visitor

In the autumn of 2007, I found myself renting a bottom-floor unit in a run-down housing complex on the outskirts of a sleepy town in the Appalachian foothills. This was...

The Iron Ladle

My first job with real responsibility was as the line cook at a tiny Creole joint called Bayou Bleu, tucked into a narrow storefront on a sleepy stretch of Decatur...

The Paper Mill Whistle

I never thought much about the old railway that cut through our valley, not until I started hearing the whistle at night. My husband, Tom, thought I was imagining things—blaming...

The Hollow Stairwell

My name is Emily, and I’ve been sensitive to the other side for as long as I can remember. The first time it happened, I was nine, walking home from...

The Last Stitch

I used to live near the old Mission of the Pines in the high desert of New Mexico. I worked there occasionally, helping with the upkeep, repairing vestments, or cleaning...

The Crawlspace Watcher

During my sophomore year at Millbrook High, I met a girl named Elena through an online forum for horror enthusiasts. We bonded over our shared interest in the paranormal, and...

The Gate in the Alley

I’ve been renting this old farmhouse on the edge of Millbrook for about twelve years now, off and on. It’s a rambling place with a wrap-around porch and a barn...

The Bone Orchard

I’ve lived in this house for three years now, a squat, gray farmhouse on a lonely stretch of land in the Missouri Ozarks. The realtor said the property had been...

The Gilded Foe

My whole life, I’ve been able to see things others can’t, but my first encounter happened when I was six, in the autumn of 1984. We had just moved into...

The Hairpin

I remember that night, the first night it happened, as clearly as the day my grandmother died. It was late autumn, and the wind was howling through the pines that...

The Static Visitor

The evening my parents left for the estate sale, I was alone in the rental house on Maple Drive, nursing a sprained ankle that had swollen to the size of...

The Bleached Apron

The house sat at the head of a narrow hollow, its tin roof glinting like a rusted blade under the overcast sky. Redbud trees clawed at the hillsides, their branches...

The Winter of Long Shadows

The old farmhouse on Cedar Lane had always creaked and muttered, but for the first five years, the sounds were like the comfortable complaints of an aging grandmother. Then 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...