The Ironing Board in the Crawl Space
When my grandmother was a girl, she lived in a farmhouse on the edge of the Nebraska prairie, where the wind never stopped sighing through the tall grass. The house...
When my grandmother was a girl, she lived in a farmhouse on the edge of the Nebraska prairie, where the wind never stopped sighing through the tall grass. The house...
Hey everyone, it’s been a while since I’ve submitted my first story. But I’m back with another spooky experience. I will keep it as short and simple as possible. My...
My husband and I and our cat live in a hotel. As I mentioned in my other stories, the hotel used be an asylum for the criminally insane and the...
My husband and I and our cat were living in one of the hotel rooms. There’s a long metal heating pipe that sticks out of the floor and horizontally stretches...
The Ashworth Arms stood on a windswept bluff above the gray Atlantic, its Victorian facade peeling like sunburned skin. The rooms were cheap, the radiators clanked like ghostly chains, and...
My grandfather, Arthur, lived in a small coastal town called Saltmarsh, a place where the fog rolled in like a gray blanket and the sea whispered secrets to the shore....
I was eleven, maybe twelve, the summer we moved into the old Hollis place on Cedar Lane. The house was a sprawling Victorian that had seen better days, its paint...
Mara Voss had inherited the property from a great-aunt she’d never met, a woman whose name was spoken in hushed tones at family gatherings. The deed arrived with a letter...
The first time I saw the pit, I thought it was just a quirk of the old warehouse’s floor. I’d been hired to convert the ground level of the Meridian...
The cottage had been in my family for generations, but I’d only just moved in after my grandmother passed. It sat at the edge of a tidal marsh, where the...
It was the summer I turned seventeen, and my friend Marcus and I were sprawled on the floor of my bedroom, the fan whirring uselessly against the heat. Marcus had...
I never thought I’d be writing about this again. It’s been nearly two years since I left this platform, and as I sift through my old entries, I realize I’ve...
Since the first frost of October, the farm had worn a shroud of unease. I’d moved into the old farmhouse six months prior, seeking solitude after a rough divorce. The...
The Meridian Hotel was a relic of a bygone era, its grandeur faded but its bones still imposing. I was the night auditor, a role that came with solitude and...
The nursing home corridors always smelled of antiseptic and regret, but my mother, Edna, never seemed to notice. She’d been here for three years, her mind slowly unspooling like a...
The first time it happened, I was in the middle of a library shift. Not the public library where I worked, but the university archive—a place that smelled of old...
Marta’s life had always been orderly, a series of neatly stacked boxes on shelves. She was a librarian at the Grigori Memorial Library, a squat, stone building in the middle...
I never believed in ghosts. Not really. I figured the stories the night crew told were just their way of passing the long, dark hours. My name is Mara, and...
In the autumn of 1992, I was living in a cramped attic studio in Prague, trying to make a name for myself as a session musician. The last time I...
Maya had finally carved out a corner of the studio apartment she’d rented after the divorce. It wasn’t much—a folding table, a drawing tablet, and a stack of sketchbooks—but it...
It was the summer of 1974, and I was eleven, living in a small, wood-framed house on the edge of a town that had once been a mining settlement. My...
It was the autumn of 2020, and the city of Marlowe had become a ghost of itself. I lived in a small apartment on the fifth floor of a building...
After I graduated university, my savings were a thin whisper against the cost of living, and I found myself in the sprawling, aging city of Mercer, where the brick facades...
The house on Maple Street was never meant to be a home, at least not in the way the real estate agent had described it. My great-aunt Mildred bought it...
Listening to the woods...
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