Ghost stories from Texas

The Hollow Corridor

My name is Daniel, and I’ve been a night guard for four months at Meridian Educational Supply, a sprawling warehouse complex that prints and ships textbooks and learning kits. The...

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The Weight of the Drowning

The night I decided to end it all, I was seventeen, and the fight with my stepfather had left a bruise on my ribs and a bitter taste in my...

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The Lamp That Remembered

I moved into the unit at the end of August, when the Texas heat still clung to the brick like a second skin. The complex was called The Pines, but...

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The Cinder Man

My grandmother used to tell me that old houses have long memories, and that the walls of the one on Juniper Lane were especially good at keeping secrets. I never...

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The Glass-Eyed Saint

The first thing I noticed was that someone had begun to watch me at night. It was at its strongest when I would sleep in the upstairs bedroom of our...

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The Blue Room Below

At nineteen, I thought I had left the strangeness of my childhood behind. I lived in a quiet town in the Pacific Northwest, in a rented house with my fiancé,...

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The Hollow Invitation

I’ve always been drawn to the dark corners of the supernatural. Not the harmless specters that linger in old houses, but the ones that whisper of doom, the harbingers of...

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The Muddy Requiem

The first storm in months hit the Oklahoma plains like a starving animal. For weeks, the red earth had cracked and blistered under a relentless sun, and the wheat fields...

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The Chant of the Unseen

In the humid summer after my sophomore year, I moved into an off-campus apartment that had a reputation for being drafty and dim. The walls were thin, the floorboards creaked,...

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The Uninvited Third

I had been lurking on this site for over a year, devouring every story, but I never thought I’d have one of my own. That changed after a weekend at...

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The Wet Track

The rain came down in sheets that evening, turning the gravel driveway of the old farmhouse into a muddy slurry. My grandmother, Aunt June, and I had spent the whole...

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The Growl of the Cold Box

When I first relocated to Denver, an old colleague named Mira invited me to stay at her place during the Thanksgiving break. She had mentioned that her apartment had a...

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The Porcelain Stare

I’ve had a handful of strange encounters in my life, and I’m perfectly content with keeping it that way. I enjoy a good ghost tour and the occasional paranormal investigation...

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The Lantern’s Gaze

In the autumn of 1987, when I was five, my parents bought a farmhouse on the outskirts of a small town called Millbrook. The house was old, built in the...

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The Salt Cellar Incident

The granite countertop was cold under my palms as I leaned over the island, tracing the pattern of the marble with my finger. We’d been in the house for three...

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The Blue Code

I’ve worked the night shift at St. Elara’s Transitional Care for six years, and most nights are quiet. The patients on our floor are recovering from strokes, car accidents, or...

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The Morning Thump

Our house sat at the end of a gravel road in the pine woods of northern Minnesota, a place where winter’s grip held until late April. My husband, Carl, and...

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The Cartographer’s Debt

The old house on Hemlock Lane had a way of keeping secrets. Marisol had moved there three months ago, seeking quiet after the city’s noise had frayed her nerves. The...

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The Dry Rot in the Walls

My mother’s divorce was a clean cut, a sharp severing of the life I knew. We left the arid plains of Arizona for the damp, mossy Pacific Northwest, landing in...

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The Painted Aisle

My grandmother kept a peculiar habit well into her final years: every Sunday after mass, she would visit the same florist and buy a single white lily, which she placed...

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The Alder Creek Landing

In 1974, I was thirteen, and my family had just moved into a sprawling, drafty Victorian house on the edge of Alder Creek, a town so small it barely registered...

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The Bone Garden of Marrow Lane

I never considered myself superstitious. My name is Eleanor Vance, and after finishing my degree in history, I moved back to my hometown of Ashford to care for my aging...

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The Salt of Remembrance

It was a sweltering August afternoon when my husband and I pulled up to the gated community in Tucson, Arizona. We were here to observe our newest client, Lejla, a...

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The Hotplate Prophecy

I’ve always had a peculiar relationship with sleep. Not the kind that leaves you refreshed, but the kind that drags you into a fog where reality and dreaming bleed together....

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