Browsing Paranormal Stories

In the shadow of ancient Rome, an archaeologist unearths more than artifacts. A forbidden gate whispers secrets across centuries. When Iole, a modern archaeologist, uncovers an ancient Roman gate, she's swept into a world where science meets the supernatural. Alongside Lucius, a brilliant Roman scientist ahead of his time and eager to explore the uncharted, Iole unravels a timeless mystery of love, curses, and the secrets of time itself. The past beckons, and destiny awaits beyond the misty veil.

This story unfolds in a desolate stretch of the desert, where the remnants of an abandoned mining town from the Old West lie in quiet decay. Once a bustling settlement, it now stands forgotten, its population having departed when the mines ran dry, leaving behind nothing but echoes of the past. Dilapidated buildings, their paint peeling and structures crumbling, litter the ghost town landscape. 

In 1349 a young man falls in love right before a great tragedy. Perhaps love can save his beloved and his beloved's family.

In 1988, Sarah Christianson went missing...

Donut Trumpet has only one wish: to be king!

Hello!

This story came not from intention, but from invitation. I entered a writing contest, five themes offered, but only one stirred an ancient memory. So, I chose, write from the point of view of a non-human character. I didn’t plan. I didn’t ponder. I simply listened. And as I did, the words came, not like bricks I stacked, but like wind flowing through a chime. I wasn’t the builder. I was the instrument. A conduit. In a few days, the manuscript formed itself, concise, reverent. Every sentence arrived as if it was already known. Time didn’t stretch; it folded. And in that folding, I glimpsed something transcendent. This writing is an echo of that moment. Here, the non-human voice is not alien, it is Divine. It is the Son speaking across an illusion. It is the Holy Spirit whispering through eternity. It is nature humming in perfect union. It is Christ as you, as me, as us. Time is not linear. It is a story unraveling in reverse, returning to its point of origin. The clock does not count forward, it collapses inward, back into the One Mind that imagined it. And in that collapse, we remember we are not creations of time. We are architects of eternity. This manuscript flows from that Truth. It is not fiction. It is a remembrance. It is the story of Who we truly are. Bob

Yellowsprings, Ohio is a quiet, close-knit town where it’s always been safe.

So, a depressed teenager, a witch, a half-human half-fae, and a bored prodigy walk into a haunted house...