Lydia Crane sat alone in her small apartment on a chilly December evening. The glow of her laptop cast eerie shadows on the walls, the kind that moved when you weren’t looking directly at them. She had been scrolling aimlessly, avoiding the gnawing anxiety that always crept up around this time of year. The holidays...More Please

Richard stood in Hunter’s room, frozen. The smell of cardboard and dust filled the air as he packed the last box, his heart heavy with guilt. Sammy had insisted it was time—time to box up their son’s toys, his clothes, his life. One year. One long, agonizing year since Hunter disappeared from his bed, leaving...More Please

December arrived as it always did in Minnesota: cold, gray, and laced with biting winds that whispered promises of snow. Charlene McKenzie, eighty years old and three years a widow, rose early that morning. She padded across the worn carpet of her small home, humming a hymn under her breath. Outside, frost clung stubbornly to...More Please

The air in the parking lot was sharp, biting through layers of fleece and polyester as Gloria and Sam pitched their nylon cocoon, hunkering down inside their tent. Thanksgiving Day had given way to a bitter, starlit Colorado night, the kind that sinks into your bones and makes you question every decision that led you...More Please

It was the perfect storm for a ghost hunt. Cold, crisp Nevada air clung to the mountains like a ghost of its own, and the couple—Shelly and Craig—were giddy with anticipation. They’d talked about doing this for years, ever since they got hooked on all those paranormal reality shows. Every episode teased hidden truths, whispered...More Please

Brandon Gallagher leaned back in the creaky barstool, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw as he stared at the dimly lit Tiki Bar. It was 2:07 a.m., and the quiet was deafening. A far cry from the chaos that usually filled the place—clinking glasses, drunken laughter, the occasional off-key karaoke rendition of “Margaritaville.” Now...More Please

Teri Palmer had never been one for knick-knacks. Her little two-bedroom house in Albany was spare, nearly ascetic. A few framed photos on the wall, a couple of mugs she’d had since college, and a secondhand armchair she’d picked up when she first moved in. She kept things simple. Orderly. No space for anything extra...More Please

Sandy shuffled through the cluttered aisles of the pawn shop, her fingers brushing over dusty knick-knacks and forgotten relics, her mind somewhere far away. Franky’s birthday was just a few days away, and she was desperate to find him something special. Ever since her husband, Tom, had passed last year, Franky hadn’t been the same....More Please