The Hollow in the Back Field
My family never spoke about the old farmhouse that sat behind our trailer, not even when the rain made the roof groan or when the wind rattled its windows. We...
My family never spoke about the old farmhouse that sat behind our trailer, not even when the rain made the roof groan or when the wind rattled its windows. We...
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...
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...
My name is Elsie, and I’ve lived with the veil between worlds being thin my entire life. Sometimes I see them—wisps of gray, a flicker of a face in a...
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...
It was 2010, and I was seeing a guy named Marcus. He had a past that clung to him like a wet coat. His best friend, Leo, had killed himself...
The summer of 1986 was the last time I saw my Aunt Ruth’s farm in the hills of eastern Tennessee. My second husband, Carl, and I brought our daughter, Emily,...
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...
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...
On a damp October morning in 2016, our family of five rolled into the gravel driveway of Hollow Creek Farm, a dilapidated property tucked at the end of a winding...
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...
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...
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...
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...
It started with a phone call at 11:47 PM. I remember the exact time because I was watching the microwave clock while I poured a glass of water. My girlfriend,...
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...
My father, Elias, was a man who could fix anything. By trade, he was a hydraulic engineer at the Port of Erie, but his real passion was the old farmhouse...
In the autumn of 1987, I was twenty-two and newly married to a man I’d known for less than a year. We’d been given the caretaker’s cottage on the grounds...
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 oak trees lining Main Street in our town of Millbrook always seemed to bow under the weight of summer’s heat, their leaves curling like tired hands. I grew up...
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 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 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...
The night the storm swallowed our power, I was nine, not ten, and the house on Bitterroot Lane felt like a ship lost at sea. My brother Finn and I...
Listening to the woods...
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