The Night the Mirror Sweated
The old house on Maple Street had a way of holding its breath. That winter, I was renting the upstairs apartment of a Victorian that had been split into two...
The old house on Maple Street had a way of holding its breath. That winter, I was renting the upstairs apartment of a Victorian that had been split into two...
It was late October, 1987, and my friends and I had claimed a stretch of the old logging road that snaked through the Monongahela National Forest. The rusted sign at...
Milo had just turned three, and for the past two months, bedtime had become a battlefield of terror. At first, my husband, Tom, and I dismissed the screams as a...
My name is Edwin, and I’ve been living with the remnants of a life that ended before mine began. The house my grandfather built in 1947 stands on a hill...
The day we moved into the old house on Hemlock Lane, the sky was the color of a fresh bruise. My mother, Carol, kept saying it was a good sign,...
I never believed in the geometry of fear until I drew a line of salt across the threshold of my sister’s old room. It was a desperate act, a throwback...
It was a Tuesday night when the world tilted. I was in the basement, not because I wanted to, but because the smell of paint from the upstairs hallway had...
I moved into the old farmhouse on the edge of the Cranberry Bog in late autumn, after my cousin and his wife offered me a room. They had been living...
I was nine when we moved into the old farmhouse my grandmother left us, a sprawling, creaking thing that had been in our family for generations. My parents were thrilled,...
I got the call on a Tuesday evening, just as I was wiping down the kitchen counters after a late dinner. On the other end of the line was my...
In the autumn of 1998, when I was seven, my family and I drove from our small house in the outskirts of Salem, Oregon, to the sprawling city of Portland,...
Ever since the incident with my daughter, I’ve felt like the world has a thin, tearable membrane that sometimes lets things through. I had moved to a quiet town in...
The invitation had come from an old acquaintance, a man named Edgar who claimed to have inherited a property from a distant uncle. The place was called Hollow Creek Asylum,...
The June sun beat down on the dusty roads of Haskell, Oklahoma, a town so small that the heat seemed to collect in its single main street. I was twelve,...
In the sweltering late summer of 1994, I found myself crashing at my friend Mark’s place in Fox Hollow, a sleepy town nestled in the foothills of the Appalachians. My...
The call came through on a Tuesday. I was in the middle of inventory at the archive, dust motes dancing in the slanted afternoon light, when my phone buzzed against...
It was supposed to be a simple visit. My daughter, Lena, and I had flown into Denver to stay with my mother, who lived in a sprawling, old Victorian house...
The drive from Asheville to the abandoned mining town of Harlan’s Folly took us nearly eleven hours. My partners in this ridiculous venture were my brother, Marcus, and our friend,...
The year was 2014, and the place was the disused Briar Hollow Sanatorium, a sprawling, decaying complex of red-brick buildings and ivy-choked courtyards, perched on a windswept moor in the...
In the autumn of 2018, my partner Elena and I joined a paranormal investigation group for an overnight lock-in at the disused Ashford Hill Sanatorium, a sprawling Victorian complex that...
It’s the kind of story that, if I heard it from someone else, I’d think they were pulling my leg. But it’s true, as true as I’m sitting here, and...
The summer I turned ten, my parents rented a cabin nestled deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I remember the exact moment we arrived: the gravel crunching under the tires,...
It had been a year since the first incident. I had moved from that cramped apartment on Maple Street to a small house on the edge of town, hoping to...
I never believed in the stories about the old Wentworth Arms. It was just a run-down apartment building near the university, with creaky floors and radiators that clanked like bones....
Listening to the woods...
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