Threading the digital byways of paranormal blogs and websites, ghostly urban legends spring up with surprising regularity. And for every alleged supernatural encounter, there is a Woman in White—or a Vanishing Hitchhiker. These legends linger and mingle in the comments of anonymous storytellers around a virtual campfire, blurring the boundaries of fact and fiction, life and death.
December 1941: as Pearl Harbor burned and the United States marched headlong into its second World War, the Sisters of the Holy Cross took up residence at 1050 S. Street in downtown Fresno, a grand Colonial Revival home crowned by a widow’s walk.
It always begins with a girl—usually nameless, always dead.
How she died doesn’t matter so much as the fact that she met a violent fate because she made a perceived mistake of some kind: her clothes were too tight, she went out alone at night, or caught a ride with the wrong stranger.
I handed my friend Graham a print out of the portrait I’d just taken of him and he burst into tears.
He was sitting in the tapestry chair with his elbows resting on the wooden, carved lions head armrests, gazing into the near distance, exactly as I’d asked him to pose.
There’s something intriguing about solving mysteries from the great beyond. Just ask Carolyn Hart, Cleo Coyle, and Gayle Leeson, three popular mystery authors who include a ”ghostly sleuth” in their long-running series.
Following the death of her uncle Samuel, Tommy Sykes finds herself the unexpected heir of the historical Loftus Manor in Wetumpka, Alabama. The beautiful money-pit requires extensive upkeep and renovations, which is why Tommy is hiring a pair of HGTV stars to help her remodel her manor into an income-generating inn. Handsome, but unsociable, handyman Harley Jones hates the idea of change, but even he has to admit that an inn is preferable to it being sold, torn down, and replaced by a subdivision.
Hello, my name is Emily Rose and I give ghost tours in Copper Ridge.
I actually moved to town not too long ago, following the death of my mother and the crash and burn of my long-time relationship. Some months before I had the opportunity to visit Copper Ridge and I realized it was steeped in history. Then I met Mrs. Smithers, a loving woman in town who runs the Historical Society. She provided me some information regarding some buildings in town that have, shall we say, unexplainable events from time to time.
Bev trusted her instincts, always had. So far she figured that’s what had kept her out of harm’s way all these years. Her mother moaned and complained about all the crazy schemes that her daughter had come up with. Though this time her mother said that none of her other ideas sounded half as ridiculous as this one. “You’ll end up a pile of bones,” were her mother’s last words as Bev closed the door behind her and descended the steps of the front porch.
Darrell Henshaw is a good football coach, has OCD that’s sort-of in check (he counts and touches things, but it’s not a debilitating, Monk-level), and just lost his job and his girlfriend in Maryland. He’s working a junior-high football camp in Cape May, New Jersey, hoping to get together again with Erin, and wishing that ghosts would leave him alone. That’s how things are in Randy Overbeck’s Crimson at Cape May.
Daphne Marriott drops by and introduces herself to Carrie Singleton, library events planner. As a psychic, she’s setting up a business to give readings and wants to do a library presentation to introduce herself to the townspeople. Evelyn, the library ghost, remembers Daphne, whose father was murdered many years ago. Daphne fingered her brother for the crime. Still, the event goes smoothly except for one glitch when Daphne recognizes someone in the audience.
