Fiction

  The old woman’s fingers curled around the faded photograph. She had broken the wood-grained

John invited me to visit him at his cottage on the Maine coast. We hadn’t

The first knock comes at 10:40 in the night. We don’t have a peephole, so

  I once had sisters. And I like to think if they would have stuck

People say that ghosts do not exist. I had always been one of those who