Bloody Mary Ghost Novels & Stories

“One day, something terrible happened. There was a rampage at the tavern, as one of the drunken men had lost control and had caused a killing spree. They threw all sorts of things at themselves, knives, swords, daggers, and a lot of people present there were killed, including Marylin Lou. “She was taken to a priest who happened to be a newly converted vampire, for her body to be blessed before it would be buried. The priest, who found out that her heart was still beating in the mortuary, decided to convert her immediately, as she would be dead in a matter of seconds if he didn’t. He bribed the mortuary staff to lie to her family that she had been buried immediately after the blessing, and th

So I grabbed my teddy bear and walked down the stairs. When I came into the kitchen, I didn't saw my daddy and my mommy standing there, arguing and fighting. I just saw my mommy laying on the floor in a puddle of blood. The red liquid was coming out of her belly and flooded around her. Her eyes were wide open and her brown hair had become red of her blood. I whispered her name and grabbed her hand as I knelt next to her. The tears were falling down my cheeks like a waterfall. Her blood was now on my white pajamas. My hands were painted with her blood as I tried to shake her awake.

Burned meat and blood are so old that they don’t belong to anything natural. There is only one thing it can be. A name whispered in the Pit’s dark corners when the guards thought we were too broken to listen. Bloodborne Hounds. Bred in the dark and stitched together from dead wolves and dead men. Made for one purpose: to tear the right out of anything too stupid to run.

The cube throbbed in his arms, a beacon calling the two remaining ghouls who circled his hiding spot, their smoky forms hissing. Suddenly, a woman’s scream pierced the air. "Ah!" Mars peeked out. Charlotte had arrived, tumbling theatrically from her horse, a thin trickle of blood artistically tracing a path from her hairline. He burst from his hiding place, drawing the ghouls’ attention away from her. He brandished a useless, gnarled stick, swatting at the incorporeal monsters.

The next day, my body felt weightless. The stomach pain that had been driving me insane was gone. I looked down and saw a body lying on the floor with a purple and blue face, as well as white foam and dark red blood crusted at the corners of the mouth. That was me. That was Layla Lloyd, as dead as a doornail. I floated in midair, staring at my own stiff corpse. It looked almost like a stranger. Now, the girl who had always kept her head down would never have to bow to anybody again.

I was desperate to tell her that she needed to eat and take care of herself, but I was dead, and thus just a passive observer. Mary put on her makeup, ensuring that it was flawless. A few times she almost started crying but then stopped herself. Every time she did she looked in the mirror and said "This is for him," as if reminding herself of some great responsibility. Then she got up and put on a black dress. I'd never seen it in her wardrobe before, so she must have gotten it at college. It fit her like a glove, and I wanted her again, right there. Could ghosts want like this without ever being able to fulfill their desires? Given the casual cruelty of the world towards the living, it seem

“Martini? Vodka on the rocks?” I pull out my silencer and Jonas’ eye go wide as saucers. His petrified gaze shifts rapidly back and forth between the gun and my face. “Bloody Mary,” I tell him and shoot at his dick. A deep shade of red blossoms like a flower and spreads through his robe, changing it to a deep maroon colour and Jonas slumps onto the ground. Blood splatters on the brunette too and she screams, running away faster than you can say ‘bye’ while the tall lean man stands frozen like a statue.

I could already hear the sound of the water from here yet, Mary was acting like she was singing a ghost. Indeed, she was seeing a ghost, probably more than a ghost. Five people appeared in front of us. One of which was the healer who came to my room the other day. She smiled and held a cat in her hand. Alongside her were some weird-looking people. Two men and three women. Mary had frozen on seeing these people. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe. I shook her and brought her senses back.

Before the last person could finish, he was suddenly struck by a rock and fell off the twelfth floor of the building! "Not bad, kiddo! Come on, let me test your strength!" A long-haired woman leapt off the second floor, catwalking devilishly toward Frank as she brandished a butterfly knife. "You're out of luck, boy!" Someone catcalled from above. "That's Bloody Mary—not the cocktail, but a phantom who can engage hundreds effortlessly!" "That's an exaggeration. Should I lose against you, kid, do go easy!" Bloody Mary curtseyed at Frank, leaping toward him as she bowed, stabbing her butterfly knife at his throat.

Something or someone had to knock some sense into him and the one that did finally came into his life. Mary Rose arrived; she was a zombie needle-freak. She was like a whirlwind that blew inside the bar—everyone immediately took notice. She walked leisurely towards the bar and sat on a spare stool beside Trevor. On the surface, she looked like the prototypical Goth girl: tar-black hair with streaks of sky blue, black eye shadow and lipstick, body-hugging light grey tank top, dark grey mini skirt with fishnet stockings on her long legs. Her left arm was fully tattooed. Her skin was as white as sheet but only increased her allure. She also had a thing for zombies, which was how the three of th