Ghost stories from Oregon

The Tidal Ledger

The first time I noticed the ledger was on a Tuesday, when Dad forgot to close the hall closet. It was a thick, salt-stained book with a cracked leather cover,...

The Bedrock Tremor

It started as a faint vibration, like a distant train passing through the foundation of our lakeside cabin. My name is Dana, and I’ve been with my partner, Alex, for...

The Bookmark

The house on Hemlock Lane had never felt sinister to me. It was a two-story Victorian with a wrap-around porch and a garden that Mrs. Alvarez tended with obsessive care....

The Hollow Mannequin

Elara had always prided herself on her rationality. She was a graduate student in cognitive psychology, studying the mechanics of fear and memory. So when she started feeling a persistent...

The Nighttime Mystery

One evening, I was nestled under my covers when I felt a sudden urge to visit the restroom. I shuffled through the dimly lit corridor toward the tiny bathroom at...

The Fourth Floor

It was a Tuesday night when I first noticed something wrong with the bathroom on the fourth floor of the old apartment building I’d just moved into. The building was...

The Last Ferry at Three

My grandmother, Elara, had always been the anchor of our small coastal town, her house perched on the cliffs overlooking the churning sea. When she fell ill, my son Toby...

The Woman at Cinder Alley

My mother, Clara, never spoke of the incident at Cinder Alley until the night before her sixtieth birthday. We were sitting on her porch, watching the fireflies blink over the...

The Lanternman’s Grate

I was a sophomore at Thornwood Bible College, nestled in the hills of western Pennsylvania, when I realized my laundry quarters were better spent on gas money and late-night gas...

The Painted Window

I grew up in a house where the veil between worlds was thin, or so my grandmother believed. She was a devout woman, but her faith was a wild, untamed...

The Burning Road

It was a humid Tuesday night in late September when I found myself driving back from a town that didn’t exist on any map. I had been in the Mojave...

The Weeping Stone

At the arid outskirts of the desert town of Red Hollow, where the sun scorched the earth and the wind carried the scent of dust and decay, stood the crumbling...

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