If you’ve just arrived, take a moment. Shake the cold from your coat. Let your eyes adjust to the half-light. This is a quiet place, a place for stories with teeth, folklore with long memories, and the kinds of hauntings that linger at the edge of ordinary life.
Here, I write about winter ghosts, old superstitions, personal encounters with the uncanny, and the shadows that slip into my fiction. Some entries are reflective, some unsettling, some unexpectedly tender, but all belong to a world slightly off-centre from daylight.
If you’re drawn to the strange and the beautiful, if old myths still tug at you, if darkness has ever felt less like a threat and more like a companion, you’re welcome here.
You’ve found the right corner of the woods.
R. H. DIXON 