Alcatraz Haunted Stories Novels & Stories

"He also felt a heavy burden on his shoulders. And, this entire time, he felt someone's eyes on the back of his neck." The student lowered his voice and said in a whisper tone, "I think I heard this one horror story about Astana Bintang's dark history from my senior. He divulged the most dangerous places in this college. And, one of the places is the desolate toilet on the level two." Khairul's eyes are as wider as a saucer. "Is this true? Do you think..." Fakhrul is attaching himself to Izzat's side. He zoned out the rest of the conversation as he refused to know more about the haunted places in this building.

She made out a handsome pale face, and the next thing that happened was obscured by a blurring space. Inside the hotel, only the guards and the front desks found out about the accident. Some even tried going out to have a clearer view, but the number of people looking through made it hard for them to see the unfortunate scenario. All they know was one of their guests fell on the hotel’s rooftop. They were beyond shock. How could such a thing happen? This would be the first time the hotel had been associated with a scandal. In any way, the thing that happened just now seemed to have a crude connection with the suicide cases in New York. It seemed to them that New York has been cursed and that

"You are delirious. Being back in this old house is giving you nightmares and..." "I heard him singing," I retort in dismay. "To Jasper. He was just in here and I think he just ran out of the room while I was distracted and I..." I'm babbling because I am scared. "I think I might be going crazy because the other options are too insane to believe." "Either Atlas is still alive and he is playing hide and seek," I gasp shaking my head. "Or I'm being haunted by his ghost." "But why would he...?"

Finally, he patted my shoulder. "Let's go back inside. We don't want to be rude to our hosts." I nodded, following him back into the mansion. The rest of the evening passed in a blur, my mind racing with thoughts and fears. As I lay in bed that night, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were in way over our heads. And that the Alcatraz brothers were far more dangerous than they appeared.

"He's in prison. We're in Switzerland. We're alive. We're together. Those are facts. The fear is just echoes." "Loud echoes." "Then we'll learn to live with noise until silence feels safe again." By the fourth day, I manage five paragraphs of my fantasy story. Lucian completes a full composition. We walk to the village and back without panic attacks. Small victories, but victories nonetheless. "Progress," Lucian says that evening. "Tiny progress," I correct. "All progress is tiny until you look back and realize how far you've come." I think about that. About waking up screaming in New York warehouses. About being hunted through Montana. About nearly dying more times than I can count. About b

Phone calls and texts couldn't capture the sheer terror of the last few weeks. "It is a very long story," I warned her, my voice still shaky. Lucia settled in, crossing her legs on the bed and taking my hand in hers. "I am not going anywhere, Alanza. Start from the beginning." So, I did. I told her about the night I left the coffee shop and how my plan to disappear failed before it even started. I told her about the cold walls of my family's house and the realization that I was being traded like property. I explained the bond with Luciano, trying to describe the way it felt like a physical golden thread pulling at my heart. I told her about Sombra's voice in my head and the dark, quiet fear

She shrugged, placing the items on a small old wooden table. "What did you mean by 'this place messes with people'?" I asked seriously, raising my body to sit up. Alice remained silent beside me; she was also suspicious and confused by the way I had reacted, but now she truly believed there might be something wrong with this place. "You know... There's an old legend that the spirits of those women are trapped here," Ursula laughed with a piece of meat between her teeth. "Most of the other concubines went mad; some said they saw shadows and heard voices, or that the spirits played with them at night until they fainted like you and stayed unconscious for days," Ursula said seriously.

- One of them said. - So, what were they going to do with the bodies? - One of them questioned. - Apparently, we're going to put one more thing on your criminal records. - One of them said. - What? - One questioned. – Kidnapping and cannibalism. - The other said. Meanwhile, sitting in their cells, each of them, not only visited by one, but several of their dead victims, were the lost souls. - No... - It was the twin from the other pavilion, he was dragging himself, trying at all costs to stay as far away from the haunting as possible...

"Aw, look at the high-and-mighty Mrs. Harvey. She's actually got a leak in her eyes." I looked up, my grief instantly curdling into defensive rage. Three women stood by the bars—Big Sal, Sanchez, and Miller. The vultures of C-Block, circling since the day I arrived. "Get lost," I spat. "Funny," Sanchez said, leaning against the bars. "We saw the news. The 'Werewolf Secret.' That was your big insurance policy, wasn't it? The thing you kept bragging about? And that girl just... told everyone herself. Used it to bury you."

"The coordinates Cian gave us are literally in the Dead Zone. No radar, no radio support, and according to local legend, the area is haunted by the ghosts of sailors who had the misfortune of eating the clams." "That’s a racist thing to say about clams," I yelled back, tightening the straps on my own flight suit. "And yes, I'm sure. Prisons aren't usually built at Club Med, Armano. They're built in places that make people want to kill themselves just looking at them." I looked down at the map on my tablet. The Black Tower.