Ghost stories from Virginia

The Man in the Attic

We bought the old Merriweather place on the edge of Blackwood Creek, a sprawling Victorian that had sat empty for a decade after old Ezra Merriweather passed away. The town...

The Tile That Breathed

The autumn of 2019 brought an unexpected chill to the old coastal town of Grayhaven. I had just moved into a renovated Victorian house on the edge of the salt...

The Cord’s Dance

On a humid September evening in 2019, I settled into bed at a quarter to ten. My wife, Claire, was beside me, scrolling through her phone, the glow of the...

The Sun on the Ash

My mother passed on a bitter February morning in 2019, when the radiators in our old farmhouse clanked like skeletal fingers against iron. Since then, I’ve slept on the pull-out...

The Pillow Incident

It had been three years since Mom passed, and I’d grown accustomed to the rhythm of Dad’s house: the creak of the floorboards in the hall, the hum of the...

The Clockwork Hum

It began in the autumn of 2014, in the quiet town of Millbrook, where the old mill had been silent for decades. I had moved into a small apartment above...

The Cane by the Door

My father, Arthur, had always been a practical man. He fixed his own car, grew his own tomatoes, and believed in the neat, tidy order of things. When my mother,...

The Lean of the Watcher

The old farmhouse on Cinder Road had never felt like home to Maren, not even after six years of marriage and two kids. It was her husband’s inheritance, a drafty,...

The Lit Window

It was a humid Thursday evening in September 2012 when I found myself alone in the old farmhouse my grandmother had left me. My husband, Alex, had taken our son...

The Root Keeper’s Debt

The Pinelands of southern New Jersey are a land of contradictions: scorching summers and frozen winters, towering pines and sucking bogs. My cabin sat at the edge of one such...

The Salt Wind

The first Sunday of June bled heat into the valley, a wet blanket that made the air thick as soup. I’d sent Marcus off with the kids to fetch ice...

The Broken Frame

I’d only been at the salon for three weeks when the mirror frame snapped clean in two, the glass somehow untouched. It was issued to me on my first day—a...

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