IMPORTANT: STOP READING AND CLOSE THIS PAGE IF YOU FEEL A SUDDEN CHILL ABOUT YOU OR IF IT IS NIGHT.

THE GHOSTS MUST NOT KNOW ABOUT THIS ENDEAVOR.

(ALTERNATIVE: READ UNDER A BLANKET.)

Greetings, fellow Warm One.

After great personal sacrifice, I have at last secured access to The Ghost Post.

I shall not tell you my name. They will find me.

The ghosts watch the living, like fish in a bowl.

Perhaps you have felt their eyes before, like a string around your neck.

Now we can spy on them. How? Through their precious letters.

Risky? Yes. But also fair.

A woman in vintage clothing, with a high-collared blouse and ornate details, holding an apple and a pen as she looks at it thoughtfully.

Ghosts write letters with silvery hands.

They seal envelopes with moonlight wax.

Not all ghosts are good, not all ghosts are old, not all love is for the living, and not all is as you think.

Black and white photo of an elderly man with a white mustache and beard, wearing round glasses, a weathered cowboy hat, a button-up shirt, and a vest, outdoors with cloudy sky and trees in the background.

Due to its sensitive nature, early access to The Ghost Post is by invitation only.

Letters are family-friendly.

Request your invitation below.

If you choose to accept, all transcribed letters will be wax-sealed and delivered to your mailbox via the U.S. Postal Service.

Ghosts tend to include other interesting items with their letters as well. I seek to recreate the letters in their entirety. If you seek an invitation, prepare yourself to be delighted or disgusted (or perhaps both in the same moment) with what is included with your letters.

A black and white photograph of a woman in vintage clothing, wearing a large feathered hat, lace top, long skirt, gloves, and holding a parasol.

Request your invitation to The Ghost Post

The dead never stopped living.

The dead never stopped living.