Jack Mercer is a historian who documents abandoned payphones — the kind bolted to walls no one visits, on lines that haven't carried a voice in years. He has labeled boxes. He has forty-seven hours of field recordings. He has a system. He finds a booth behind a dead strip mall, on a phone with no power, on a line that was physically disconnected years ago. It rings. He answers it. The voice on the other end knows about the six minutes in his recording he cannot account for. It knows what he thought in private before he ever left the house. It has been keeping his file for considerably longer than he has been keeping its.

Original horror fiction from Macabre Miscellanea — every week, without comfort.

Original horror storytelling for those who prefer their nightmares well-documented.

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Seven accounts of something very large and apparently very deliberate. It copies whistles in the dark. It follows people home through city parks at ten-thirty on a Tuesday. It steals a deer from a hunter mid-field, drags it into the trees like a correction, and leaves the man's orange hat tucked under a strip of freshly peeled bark as a parting thought.

The mythology insists Bigfoot is elusive. The archive disagrees.

A collection of firsthand encounters from people who are still not entirely sure what they saw — and who are managing, with varying success, not to think about it too hard.

A confident young man volunteers to spend the night in Lorraine Castle's infamous Red Room. He has candles, rationalism, and twenty-eight years of never having seen a ghost. The castle's ancient custodians warn him — politely, repeatedly, with the patience of people who have stopped arguing — that this particular night is not the night for it. He goes anyway.

H.G. Wells' classic tale of a man who goes looking for a ghost and finds the machinery that makes them.