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

This is Real Ghost Stories Online, after midnight.

He didn't think of himself as someone who believed in evil, not in the theatrical sense anyway.

He was raised Catholic, baptized, confirmed, dragged to Mass on Sundays, whether he wanted to go or not,

but belief had always been a structure more than a feeling.

It was routine, it was rules.

It was something adults leaned on when they wanted the world to have edges.

At 15, the world already felt sharp enough without adding invisible enemies to it.

He and his older sister belonged to a Catholic youth prayer group in Seattle,

the kind of group that met in church basements with folding chairs and fluorescent lights,

where teenagers tried to be half reverent and

half funny to survive the awkwardness of being asked to talk about faith when all they wanted

was to feel like they belonged somewhere. In the summer, the group ran seminars, multi-day events

meant to keep kids focused and grounded, which mostly meant giving them something to do besides

wander around the city looking for trouble. There was always a theme, purity, purpose,

temptation, identity. Adults and polos and lanyards told the kids they were special,

that they mattered, that their souls were worth protecting. He didn't know if he believed any of that.

He believed his sister.

She was the reason he went.

She had friends there and seemed happier around them.

He followed because it was easier than arguing with his parents

and because even if he didn't admit it,

...