Deborah Portillo

A young woman returns to her childhood home looking for her father. On a regular basis he comes to the solitary residence for grieving. He will sit on the bottom stairs of the stairway that lead to th...

It's the witching hour within 3:15 in the morning, when night is at its darkest. It's the hours of the night when you sense invisible presences. It’s the hour of the night when evil can pass over thro...

Since I was a child I believed that I've been haunted. It's as though a curse of some sorts follows me. I'm haunted. I am unsure of its purpose, or how and why it began. I use to wake up to the feelin...

I once met a girl on a train. She said her name was Marta. I was taking this ride for fun; for an escape of some sort. My fiancé had been acting strangely lately, and all I could imagine was that he w...