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Last night, I snuck past my dad's house. He almost caught me

Last night, I snuck past my dad’s house. He almost caught me

A bit of context: My father left my mother not long after I was born. He was a selfish and incredulous man, driven by his own will and desires. Whether I’m his only child, we don’t know, but we’re sceptical that I’m not. I would visit him as a child …

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The windwhisper

The Windwhisper

There was once a story my mother used to tell me, in hopes I wouldn’t turn out like my father. “Treat your children right, Tommy or the Windwhisper will come to punish you.” A boogeyman from my childhood, something I thought was just a myth, turned out to be quite …

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New Houses can be Haunted Too, Here's My Story

New Houses can be Haunted Too, Here’s My Story

I remember the day, not too long ago, that I stood in front of my brand new home.  After the year-long headache of the over-budget and over-delayed build process, I finally held the keys to the castle of my 11.4-acre Kingdom. The exhaust note from the contractor’s truck finally faded, …

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the heart and the cabinet

The Heart and the Cabinet

When a heart fell out of the medicine cabinet, Carrie Pickett screamed. Not two seconds ago, she’d wandered in, relieved herself, and opened the swing-door for her sleeping pills. Out it rolled, rebounding off the sink and against the floor with a sickening plop! The sudden movement startled her, and …

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blewit

Blewit

This is going to sound weird, I know, but please, bear with me. I wanted to ask the paranormal community for help with my haunted house, but I was afraid of Reddit trolls. I tend to trust too easily and felt I wouldn’t have time to sort out which responses …

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the new settlements

The New Settlements

Looky here! Trish! Ethan! Our friend is back! Shame it had to be another cold, stormy night like this. Just once I’d like to enjoy some company under the warm sun, but I guess that’s not how this place works. … Goodness, where are my manners? Come on in here …

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Hell’s Landlord

It is 1894. Fog hangs heavy on this cold, still, San Francisco night. Madame Grace, a young woman of African descent, stands before the door of a dark, three-story, Victorian-style house. The turban atop her head to the jeweled anklets draped above her feet, speak of a spiritualist. Charles, her …

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