Tag: ghost

The building loomed like a scar across the Kentucky hillside, its red-brick walls stretching wide against the twilight. Waverly Hills

The river always seemed to whisper at night. It wasn’t the normal lapping of waves against the stone embankments or

The snow came early that year. When the hikers began their trek across the Sierra Nevada, the air was crisp

The Hotel Cecil was never just a building. Its walls carried whispers, and its windows stared out at Los Angeles

The Bridgewater Triangle was one of those places everyone in Massachusetts whispered about but few dared to explore. Stretching across

The colonial home on Chestnut Street looked beautiful on the realtor’s glossy brochure. White clapboard siding, shuttered windows, and a

The house in Villisca, Iowa, stood at the edge of town like a scar that refused to fade. It was

The Winchester Mystery House had always been a place of contradictions. Built by Sarah Winchester after the death of her

Chicago winters had a way of stilling everything — the trees, the traffic, even the air itself. But along Archer

The Bell farm sat quiet under the Tennessee moonlight, its fields stretching into the darkness, its white farmhouse standing alone

The Sierra Nevada is beautiful and brutal, a wall of snow and stone rising against the sky. Its slopes gleam

New Orleans has always been a city of contradictions: a place where life and death walk side by side, where

The year was 1893, and Chicago thrummed with life. The World’s Fair had brought in millions, and alongside the spectacle

The Crescent Hotel in New Orleans had been many things across its long history. Built in the late 1800s, it

In the small town of Van Meter, Iowa, the year 1903 had been remembered for something more than coal, more

The Devil’s Tree stood alone in an empty field, its crooked branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal arms. Generations

It began on an ordinary night. Mark Reynolds had worked late again, trapped in the hum of fluorescent lights and

The first time Sarah Parker heard the knocking, it was just past midnight. Her farmhouse sat on the outskirts of

The wind howled like a ravenous beast across the Michigan wilderness, tearing through the frozen pines and rattling the shutters