Charleston Gothic

Two-to-Four-Sentence Creepy Stories About The Holy City

My city, my home. I love this place, but I would be lying if I said it was a perfect place. Charleston is well-known for its hospitality, cuisine, and dedication to the arts; but centuries of hatred, violence, and unseasonable weather color our history just as sharply. There’s blood in our earth — it can’t be put back, but I hope we are learning from it. I hope you like spirits and spooks, goulies and ghosts, because this city is no dwelling place for the faint of heart.

There had never been so many churches. Consequently, there had never been so many graveyards.

It’s October, and the humidity is oppressive. You feel it bearing down on you in the night as you swelter in your bed. You feel like you can’t breathe. Like a vengeful spirit has come seeking vengeance for some unknown crime in some unknown time. It holds you captive. There is no escape.

It’s November, and the leaves refuse to fall. In the summer heat, they shone green in the most glorious golden sheen. Overnight, their luster faded. Still the leaves cling to their branches, a sad, dull, lifeless gray. Refusing to die. Refusing to change.

The locals laugh at your revulsion at the tiny insect skittering across the patio. Not roach, they correct you good naturedly — palmetto bug. A slight edge appears in their smiles. Leave it be, don’t go after it, they say. Just let it have what it wants. It will leave you alone.