Midnight has passed, and in the stillness of these hours, the hauntings are never silent.

This is Real Ghost Stories Online, after midnight.

Eliza had always thought of the house as an inheritance that nobody wanted.

It wasn't the kind of place you bragged about owning.

It didn't have elegant shutters or a sweeping porch

or the kind of charm people paid for in glossy real estate listings.

It sat too close to the tree line.

Its paint faded and its windows narrow as if it had been built to keep something out

rather than let the world in.

But it was paid off. It was solid. It had lasted more than a century. And in a family like hers,

where money came and went and people moved on as soon as life got hard, the fact that it remained

at all, he felt like a stubborn miracle.

When Aunt Vivian died, the house passed to Eliza's mother. Her mother, in turn, passed it to

Eliza with a kind of exhausted practicality. Sell it if you want, she'd said, or live there. Just don't

pour money into it. Eliza didn't move in because she wanted to become the sort

of person who lived in an old family house. She moved in because the timing was bad and her options

were worse. A lease ending, a job shifting to remote work, a breakup that left her feeling

like she'd been quietly erased from her own life.

The house was a place to land while she figured out what came next. She arrived on a gray afternoon

in early autumn. Her car packed tighter than it should have been. The yard was overgrown in the way

neglected yards always were, grass too high, weeds in the walkway cracks a few stubborn vines

"'climbing the porch post as if they'd been waiting

...