The Stained Glass Reflection
I have always been fascinated by the paranormal, devouring every account of ghostly encounters and unexplained phenomena. I wanted to believe that there was something more beyond our physical world....
I have always been fascinated by the paranormal, devouring every account of ghostly encounters and unexplained phenomena. I wanted to believe that there was something more beyond our physical world....
The fire took Elara’s best friend, Mirella, on the night of May 2nd. Along with Mirella, it consumed her mother, her aunt, her boyfriend, and their golden retriever, Sunny. The...
The night the power lines snapped in the frozen marsh, I stopped believing in coincidences. My brother, Marcus, had died seven months earlier in a logging accident—a chain snapped, a...
My name is Sam, and I’m writing this down because I need someone to understand what happened to us. I’ve changed the names and places, but the events are real,...
The old school in northern Minnesota wasn’t built on a bowling alley, but on the site of a demolished one. The ‘Strike Zone Lanes’ had been a beloved local hangout...
I woke to the soft hum of the ceiling fan, a sound that had become as familiar as my own heartbeat. But something was off. The air in my apartment...
The winter of 2008 was bitter cold, and our house on Ridge Road seemed to hold the chill inside its bones. I was fifteen then, my brother Mark was seventeen,...
I still have trouble speaking about what I witnessed in that dilapidated farmhouse outside of Verbena, Alabama, the summer I turned nine. My mother had just passed, and my father,...
A fortnight after we’d unpacked the last box into the honey-colored Victorian, the dreams began. I’d be standing at the top of the cellar stairs, the bare bulb below casting...
When my aunt Celia was a girl, she lived in a sprawling Victorian house that had once been a boarding house for mill workers. The house sat at the edge...
I never believed in ghosts. As a retired analytical chemist, I trusted only what could be measured, weighed, and replicated in a laboratory. So when my sister Thelma passed, and...
I was fifteen when I finally understood the true meaning of the word ‘home’. Not the peeling paint or the drafty windows of our rented farmhouse, but the creaks. Specifically,...
I was barely three, still small enough to fill the narrow crib my parents had squeezed into the corner of my room. I remember the ceiling fan turning lazily, the...
My aunt, Helena, lived with her husband, Marcus, in a sprawling Victorian house in the countryside of upstate New York. I had visited once, for a summer barbecue, and the...
The old farmhouse on Cedar Hollow Road had been in Elena’s family for generations. When she inherited it after her grandmother’s passing, she saw it as a chance to escape...
The old hardware store on Meridian Street had been in our family for three generations when we took over in the autumn of ’94. It was a three-story building, but...
I have always been attuned to things that should not exist. As a child, I would see figures at the edge of my vision, hear whispers in empty rooms, and...
The first time I saw the thing in the TV, I was twenty-one, sharing a cramped two-bedroom with a guy named Marcus. He was the kind of friend who left...
My grandmother left me the house in the hollows of Vermont, a place where the pines grew so thick they seemed to swallow the sky. I’d spent summers there as...
Milo had always been a night owl. At twenty-three, living alone in his late grandmother’s creaky Victorian house, he found solace in the quiet hours after midnight. The house was...
Listening to the woods...
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