Alcatraz Haunted Stories Novels & Stories

Tracy POV I woke up screaming for the fifth night in a row, my prison jumpsuit soaked with sweat and my heart pounding so hard I could hear it echoing off the walls of my cell. The same nightmare had been haunting me every night since I gave my testimony to the federal investigators - Vanya sitting in an electric chair, looking at me with disappointed eyes as I read my false statement about her confessing to money laundering. "Martinez, shut the hell up!" my cellmate Rosa yelled, throwing her pillow at me. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

In the scorching heat of the sun, Luciana and I stood still, our wrists bound by ropes and chains, the weight of our restraints beginning to numb the pain. The hours stretched on, and we anxiously awaited the arrival of midnight, for it held the only glimmer of hope in our dire situation. Desperate to keep Luciana from drifting off to sleep, I began recounting stories of my life, hoping to distract her from the predicament we found ourselves in. I spoke of my brother, the adventures we shared, and the mishaps that followed us everywhere. I shared tales of my girlfriend, her infectious laughter, and unwavering support. Miraculously, Luciana responded, her voice a balm amidst the chaos surroun

I'm really sorry miss, I didn't see you,’Alma apologized profusely, it was good that the cup was tight and the hot coffee didn't spill on her. "Can't you watch where you are going you filthy human," Lena said and walked off without looking back. Alma was astonished why she would refer to her as a human but her attention was drawn to the screen where an image of Damien and that of his father was being shown. Up until then they hadn't captured the two. Several mysterious murders which added up to two thousand in the last one year could finally be resolved as the mystery behind it was now unravelled. The news anchor also spoke about the survivor of the ordeal who was still receiving treatment a

The three looked with childlike fear at the storyteller all at once. “Rumor has it that Christie Claricel and Dean Ramos were not suicides but were actually killed by a psycho faculty member—or a staff, who knows—at Van Duke. And see how they died exactly a year apart? They say they were killed and sacrificed to some demon that has its dominion in our town.” “Oh please! It’s just another excuse for them not to invest in mental health,” nagged Isa. Alyssa raised her shoulders, “Bet you it’s Mrs. Marcel. She always rubbed me the wrong way.”

He likes to refer to them a bottom feeders, vultures or the classic 'fucking freaks' depending on his mood. With all the media coverage that the case had garnered nation wide, he had hordes of people beating the doors down to see it. Everyone had wanted to see the infamous 'murder motel' where the crazy man and his deranged son had kidnapped all those women and then brutally murdered them. Everyone's favorite place to check out was the old well that had held all the bodies of the victims.

My playful tone was tinged with annoyance. ​"He and the other Alphas are taking protection in our old pack house." ​"Old pack house?" I was curious now. I had never heard of a territory having two pack houses. ​"It is said to be haunted," she explained, a hint of fear in her voice. "The Alpha and Luna of the old South were brutally murdered there. Some claim the Luna walks the grounds, avenging her death, while others believe she emerges at night in search of her lost daughter."

David grumbled, “After everything tonight, and that is the one thing you have a problem with?” “Sorry,” stated Hank, as he turned his glaring eyes on the other man. “But things like that don’t normally happen.” “What about the ghosts,” asked David with a tone of sass in his voice. “That I can believe,” the police detective growled at him. “I have heard many stories around Spokane and other areas about haunted places. But never have I heard about people changing shape to animals being true!”

It was late, but they were still serving sandwiches and soup. I ordered a grilled cheese and tomato soup. It is comfort food for people who still believed comfort existed. While I waited, I scrolled through my phone. Mistake number one. Azrael’s name was everywhere. “AZRAEL DE LUCA : DEAD IN PLANE CRASH WHILE FLEEING FEDERAL INVESTIGATION.” I felt the air leave my lungs.

Sabrina asked, her voice sounding loud over the quiet crowd. James looked toward her. “According to history, there have been at least twenty murders here, including several murder-suicides. Mark Twain, the author, actually stayed here in the year 1901 and claimed to have experienced supernatural incidents, even before he knew that the place was haunted. Also, in the mid 1950's, there were three different tenants who were all sent to psych wards after just one month of living here. It's said that they all told similar stories to their psychiatrists; something about a man on the stairs outside of their door whispering to them while they tried to sleep.”

Alexia groaned, "I hate that gala." "Why's that?" Harry asked "Well, dumbass, all criminals from all over the world go there and enjoys their ass off as if they're normal humans beings and look all happy. Honestly, if you ask me, they look too happy in that gala. What would it take for me to burst their little bubble of happiness?", She sighed and i could not help but nod in agreement as i thought the same thing. "Why did you start working for him in the first place?" Zayn asked Marina