Abigail Ghost Novels & Stories

Abigail's eyes gleam, piercing into the depths of the forest. In a hut not far from Lucy's residence, Abigail Rossie is hiding, unbeknownst to anyone.

Rhett suspected that Phillip's interest had been more opportunistic than genuine, but he did not think it was the right time to point that out to Abigail. "I would have liked to have been a mother I think," Abigail said quietly before beginning to cough. "Smoke is bad, eh?" Rhett said. She did not answer. They had caught up with the bulk of Benethin and Aeylira's force and the noise of so many soldiers, the screams of the zombies and the Van Helsing soldiers in the smoke stole the opportunity for further conversation. It wasn't until he realized that Abigail had stopped coughing that he looked down at her, his chest growing tight as he realized that she had passed away.

In another sign that fate was trying to help me out, this was the same Abigail that my brother Mark had been talking about for years and was planning on introducing me to when he could make it down. Apparently Mark knew Abigail from both his "Group" as well as the occult circuit. Abigail was a direct descendant of a family of witches from Salem and was a sanctioned priestess of the church of Satan. Needless to say between her finding out that I knew Mark, was a disciple of Levay, and had Royce talking up my work, things worked out better than I could have expected. Abigail let me display my paintings in her club for ten percent of the sales; Royce received another fifteen and the rest was mi

I asked, holding my breath as she raised her grey brows at me, like I was crazy. “1692.” “16...92” I stuttered. Trying to wrap my head around it. How is that even possible? I was just in downtown Winnipeg in 2022? How did Sin get me here, and what was he? The old woman said, “Yes, now why don’t you come inside, and I will give you something suitable to wear. My name is Abigail.” She opened the cottage door, and I followed her in. “I’m Amaya. If they are hunting suspected witches, why are you helping me?”

"And you, my dear, will bear witness to it all. That will be your hell." Abigail held up her knife. "Get away from me, you bitch." Kasdeyah laughed again. "Oh, sweet child. Maybe you aren't as smart as he believes." The next thing Abigail knew, she was in a dark room with a widow. When she looked through the window, she could see them - Grayson, Rose, and Catherine - making their way through the forest. She tried calling out to them, but they couldn't hear her. She slid to the floor, rested her head against the magic window, and cried, watching her husband, sister, and friend head to their death.

She didn’t want anyone getting in on her personal space and trying to act like family towards her. “No.” She replied. “Alright, see you later then.” Hailey whispered then hung up. Abigail sighs heading for the wine cellar, she took a bottle of whiskey, opened it and poured some for herself. She took a huge gulp from her glass, feeling so stressed out. She needed the burning sensation to burn away the anger she felt towards the men, mainly at Mr Christopher and his bratty daughter. Suddenly without warning, a memory Abigail had been hiding unconsciously in her bank of memories invaded her privacy. A memory she wished she did not remember.

Abigail, her friend, looked beautiful in a white dress. It had a Sabrina neckline with straps on each shoulder. The bottom reached her ankles, and when she walked, the dress swayed along with her. Abigail always looked beautiful in Haisley's eyes. She was a friendly and brilliant girl with occasionally crazy ideas. No one would think that at her teenage age, she was already skilled at matchmaking – even though her own love story never succeeded because the only one she loved until now was Gilbert. And no one knew that, even at her young age, Abigail was already good at making money. Clearly, she would become a wealthy woman someday.

I would have found her half rotted corpse in the marsh a few weeks from now instead. I take another drink as the memory of the last night nurse comes to mind. Abigale, twenty-eight, beautiful and kind. God, the house wanted her. It hunted her in a way I’d never seen before. I left her alone; she had no idea I was even in the house, but that was my mistake. Abigail is rotting somewhere in the marsh now, I’m sure.

Something that Abigail couldn’t explain, but felt deep down in her heart. Abigail finished her sketch and sat back to look at it. It was a perfect likeness to the girl. The stranger who stared back at her caused a sense of longing in her heart. A longing as if she’d lost something and desperately needed to find it again. Abigail was distracted when she heard her mother outside in the garden speaking with someone. As she looked outside of her window she noticed that it was the girl with the fiery red black hair again. The same one who had shapeshifted into the Raven.

I adjusted my cloak. “I am no longer Lady Abigail of House MacMayer. That girl? She died.” Lightning flickered across my wrist—just enough to remind them of exactly who they were dealing with. “I am Abby. I am the unbothered, unhinged, possibly divine villainess of your worst nightmares. And you?” I smirked. “You’re just another footnote in my glow-up saga.” Alana sniffled. Algebra looked like he wanted to faint. Father opened his mouth again—