The Hollow Man of Rainy Hollow
It was the summer I turned twelve, the summer we moved to my grandmother’s old farmhouse in the foothills of the Blue Ridge. The nearest town was a twenty-minute drive,...
It was the summer I turned twelve, the summer we moved to my grandmother’s old farmhouse in the foothills of the Blue Ridge. The nearest town was a twenty-minute drive,...
Maya had always been a light sleeper, but the past three weeks had turned her into a prisoner of her own bedroom. The apartment, a cramped one-bedroom on the fourth...
The summer I turned twelve, we moved into the Gable House, a sprawling Victorian that my mother had inherited from a distant aunt she’d never met. It sat at the...
My name is Carla, and I’m 26. I’ve been clean for five years now, but the past few weeks have felt like a slow-motion horror movie I can’t wake up...
I’ve never been the type to scare easy. Growing up on a fishing trawler with my uncles taught me that. But the night the glass broke in the Harborside apartment,...
My grandmother, Elsie, told me this story when I was a girl, in the summer of 1952, sitting on the porch of our farmhouse in the uplands of Vermont. She...
A week after my best friend Marcus died, I started seeing things. It began the day I visited his house in the small town of Millbrook to spend time with...
The last time I saw Harold was on a Tuesday. He was in his garage, sorting through a pile of rusted tools, and he waved at me with that crooked...
I’ve always prided myself on being a rational man. Ghosts, spirits, the supernatural—all of it was fodder for campfire tales and cheap horror films. That was before we inherited my...
Marta had always been a heavy sleeper, a fact her husband, Leo, often teased her about. But the morning of October 14th shattered that illusion. At 6:57 AM, a guttural...
The first time I heard the sobbing, I thought my partner, Marcus, was having a breakdown. We worked the overnight shift at the Weatherford County 911 Dispatch Center, a squat,...
My earliest memory of the thing in our house is tied to the smell of burnt toast and the hum of the old refrigerator. I was five, maybe six, and...
It was a Tuesday morning, the third week of August, and the clock on my nightstand glowed 3:47 AM. I was hunched over my laptop, headphones on, tweaking the bass...
Hey guys! I will be taking you back to my “Bingham Light” encounters. To give a bit of backstory on the history of this “ghost light” and my very first...
The night shift at the Beacon Point Lighthouse had a way of warping time. The hours between midnight and dawn stretched like saltwater taffy, each minute pulling thinner until the...
The call came at 2:47 AM, just as the antique clock in the hallway struck its solitary chime. I knew before I answered that it was my mother, and I...
In the autumn of 2012, the world ended for Eleanor Marsh. Her son, Thomas, a quiet, imaginative boy of twelve, had been taken by a sudden, inexplicable illness that the...
It was the third Sunday of September, just past ten in the morning, when the air in the back of the store seemed to thicken. I was working my usual...
It had been nearly three years since I’d moved into the old farmhouse on the edge of the marsh. The previous owner, a reclusive widower, had died in his sleep,...
I’d been going to the Old Gable Orchard for years, ever since my cousin dared me to holler at the abandoned farmhouse at its heart. The place had a reputation,...
My name is Elias Vane, and for as long as I can remember, I have been a conduit for the restless dead. In my youth, the visions came as violent...
The papery rustle of the motel’s air conditioner was the only sound in the room when Eva heard it. Not the television, though the morning news murmured from the nightstand,...
The late October air had a bite to it, but we kept the porch door cracked open, letting in the smell of wet leaves and distant woodsmoke. I was sprawled...
I was eighteen, sprawled out on the cracked leather sofa in my uncle’s dusty farmhouse, the only light coming from the flickering TV and the pale moon through the grimy...
Listening to the woods...
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