Real ghost stories from real people. This is Into the Paranormal with Tony Bruske.

They say brand new buildings can't be haunted. That ghosts cling only to the past to crumbling walls,

forgotten cemeteries, and drafty Victorian halls, but sometimes they follow bloodlines, not bricks. And sometimes the newest

walls conceal the oldest shadows. Tonight's letter comes from a listener named Isabel. What she describes

didn't take place in some creaking colonial mansion, but in a modern penthouse apartment perched

above a sleepy village that time barely touches,

a home barely two years old, and yet something feels profoundly out of place. Appliances act on their own.

Footsteps echo through empty halls, and dreams, if that's what they are, begin to blur the line between

memory and premonition. What makes this story all the more unsettling is its quiet progression.

Nothing overtly terrifying. Not at first. Just subtle disturbances that grow into something

she can't ignore.

A creeping awareness that maybe, just maybe,

someone else is still there, watching, waiting, pacing down the hallway.

So what happens when you're safe place,

the one meant to hold you between worlds of work and rest becomes something else entirely?

What if the very house meant to bring comfort instead whispers a warning

every time the lights go out?

Let's get to the letter.

They write,

Hi, Tony, I don't know where else to send this.

It might be nothing. It might be something. But either way, I need to say it out loud, or write it somewhere, someone will hear it.

Because I'm starting to question what's real and what's not. Over the past year, I've been

...