Halloween Pop-up Channel - Powered by "Ghost - Scary Stories"
Oct 8, 2026 · 16 min · 10 segments
Marcus is forty-one, recently divorced, starting over in a new city. The apartment is clean, the job is good, and he is trying. Then small things begin to be wrong. A mug on the wrong side of the…
I want to be clear about something before I tell you this.
I am not a paranoid person.
I have never been a paranoid person.
I spent twenty-two years married to a woman who would tell you, without hesitation, that I am the most relentlessly reasonable man she has ever known.
That was not always a compliment.
But it is who I am, or who I was.
I am telling you this because I need you to understand that everything I dismissed at first, I dismissed for good reason.
I wasn't being careless.
I was being myself.
My name is Marcus.
I was forty-one when this started.
Divorced eleven months.
Living in a city I didn't know in an apartment I'd chosen from photographs.
Trying to build something that resembled a life.
The apartment was on the fourth floor of a building in a neighborhood I'd picked.
Because it was close to work and I didn't know enough about the city to pick for any other reason.
It smelled like fresh paint when I moved in.
The windows faced west and caught the late afternoon light.
There was a radiator in the bedroom that clicked and hissed through the night like something breathing.
I want to tell you that I loved it.
I didn't, not at first.
But I was trying to.
That matters.
I was making the effort that people make when they've decided to keep going.
I want to be clear about something before I tell you this.
I am not a paranoid person.
I have never been a paranoid person.
I spent twenty-two years married to a woman who would tell you, without hesitation, that I am the most relentlessly reasonable man she has ever known.
That was not always a compliment.
But it is who I am, or who I was.
I am telling you this because I need you to understand that everything I dismissed at first, I dismissed for good reason.
I wasn't being careless.
I was being myself.
My name is Marcus.
I was forty-one when this started.
Divorced eleven months.
Living in a city I didn't know in an apartment I'd chosen from photographs.
Trying to build something that resembled a life.
The apartment was on the fourth floor of a building in a neighborhood I'd picked.
Because it was close to work and I didn't know enough about the city to pick for any other reason.
It smelled like fresh paint when I moved in.
The windows faced west and caught the late afternoon light.
There was a radiator in the bedroom that clicked and hissed through the night like something breathing.
I want to tell you that I loved it.
I didn't, not at first.
But I was trying to.
That matters.
I was making the effort that people make when they've decided to keep going.
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