Cursed Objects Phasmophobia Novels & Stories

I had asked staring deep into Lady Percival's eyes through the mirror as she combed my hair, while caressing my cheeks fondly. She has been demonstrating her fondness for me through her attitude towards me, maybe she was just fascinated by me but who cares? She removed her eyes from my own in the mirror and turned to pick up another comb since the first one was harsh against my hair. "No we are not, we are demons," I shivered in fear as the thought clicked in my head. 'Demons? Are demons real, are they going to kill me too.' my mind was racing with negative thoughts and the possibilities of them killing

The air crackled with energy, and a sense of foreboding filled the space. Carefully, they examined the artifacts, their knowledge of history guiding them. Suddenly, Aidan's eyes fell upon a cracked, weathered scroll tucked away in a corner. He unrolled it, revealing faded text. "This... this seems to be a record of an ancient curse," Aidan exclaimed, his voice filled with awe and concern. "It speaks of a forbidden power that can erase memories and warp the very fabric of reality." Casey's eyes widened as she looked at the scroll. "Could this be the source of Phenrix's memory loss?"

My wolf pushed harder with every second, restless and desperate now. Eager to see his mate. That realization only made my chest feel heavier. The pack estate finally appeared through the trees and my wolf didn’t even slow down before leaping over the gates. Warriors immediately lowered their heads when I shifted back. Something felt wrong immediately. The atmosphere inside the estate was tense. Servants stood around whispering nervously while some avoided looking directly at me. My chest tightened painfully. The moment I stepped into the hallway, Mira stormed toward me furiously. “You’re unbelievable!”

Hope still knelt at the center, the Crystal beneath her pulsing again, the final surge. A blinding burst erupted outward. WHITE. PURE. HOLY. Every creation of Euthanasiá, scorpions, corrupted beasts, lingering shadows, all shuddered. … cracked… … and burst apart into nothingness. No dust. No remnants. Simply gone. The shockwave lifted Hope from her knees and tossed her backward gently, as though the light itself refused to harm her. She rolled to the ground, small and fragile, until she came to a soft stop. But the moment the crystal released her fingers—

Jealousy reared its ugly head and I forced the feeling back. “The young ones don't know. I took a human companion every few decades, and Keren's mother is one of them.” Gently, he untangled me from him and put enough space between us. “There's more, Vi.” He said at my confused look. “There’s a curse. I have had fourteen mates and I have killed every one of them.”

Who’s grave was that? The break room's harsh fluorescent lighting made her squint after the museum's atmospheric dimness. Shantali pulled out her phone with trembling fingers and opened her notes app, but when she tried to type what she'd seen, the words felt inadequate. How could she capture the weight of those visions, the certainty that had flooded through her as the smoke-cobra's ember eyes held her gaze? *2:47 AM - Egyptian wing - smoke formation near canopic jars. Jasmine scent. Visions: promotion, hospital argument (who?), wedding (?), funeral (when?). Duration: approx 3 seconds. Physical effects: disorientation, residual energy sensation.*

It always happens whenever I'm scared. "Calm down, Cara, lest you reveal your powers to him," Hana whispers angrily. "If that happens we can kiss this place goodbye because we'll be thrown out as bad bloods." Bad bloods. Otherwise known as the Ruined, or the Cursed. The spoilt apples.

This got the quarians scared, they all stepped back as the pieces fell amidst them. And there goes boom!! One of them burst with no sign of its flesh. It’s black colored blood splashed on their faces, making them more terrified. They all took turns bursting at a second interval, leaving only the maid out of the game. It felt like experiencing a real-life tsunami. The maid looked around terrifyingly as she couldn’t find any of her followers left. Not even he her beloved. He was busted like the other ones with no traces. She only found their promise ring soaked in the black colored blood.

Phil was excited as he wanted to know what the contents of the mysterious pages were. Phil took the stack of bond paper and proceeded to read it while Samantha was beside him waiting to finish reading it. The paper talks about the things Phil needed, more information about the abyss, and the miasma. It talked about how the miasma is supposed to be the blood from a godlike creature imprisoned in the farthest depth of the abyss and how it corrupted its surroundings creating nightmarish creatures. Phil was a little disappointed at first because the information might be interesting it was no use for him right now until he read the third page.

Suddenly, from the corner of the room, their mother’s voice rose in a broken wail. “Carla! Don’t take one of my children. It’s just me… It’s just me. Don’t make them suffer!” The plea cut through the air like a knife, raw and pleading. Their mother’s eyes were wide with terror, her bound hands twisting against the ropes as she rocked back and forth. The name “Carla” hung in the room like a summoned ghost, a tangible thread linking the present torment to the sins of the past. Eloise and Elena exchanged a glance heavy with shared dread—the curse was stirring again, drawing closer, its tendrils reaching for what little they had left.