Ghost Stories For Writing Novels & Stories

It infuriated Cassy more—with the night that’s the homecoming of the ghosts and horrors. A wicked laugh itched to be out, instead, she scrutinized the height. The distance between her and the ground did not harrow her. It amazed her at how different she’s lurking around where the normal people might not even stare without a wave of nausea washing over them. An urge to smoke-filled her; she fetched a pack from the inside pocket of her dark blue jacket; ignited the flame, mumbling, “Every legendary story is a pent-up frustration of human beings to invoke fear in the minds of those whom they hate. Several against one or one against many.”

And it’s already had a taste . Tales from The Lake Vol.1 anthology—Remember those dark and scary nights spent telling ghost stories and other campfire stories? With the Tales from The Lake horror anthologies, you can relive some of those memories by reading the best Dark Fiction stories around. Includes Dark Fiction stories and poems by horror greats such as Graham Masterton, Bev Vincent, Tim Curran, Tim Waggoner, Elizabeth Massie, and many more. Be sure to check out our website for future Tales from The Lake volumes.

“After the accident I drank more, usually at night, so I could sleep. I didn’t write at all, not anything that mattered, anyway, because I was never sober. And that thing in the shadows was always waiting for me in my nightmares, or every time I closed my eyes. That and those damned whispers. You know after a while, I wrote those words down and Googled them. Want to know what they mean?” I shake my head because suddenly, I want this to be done. Gavin’s a great guy but I just want this to be done. My gut’s been squirming the whole time and even though I know these stories can’t be true, I can’t deny a feeling of instinctual dread about the other stories in this book, and what they’ll say. Bec

" Wow! It doesn't seem like she can see ghosts hmm. Yes she can see ghosts but she doesn’t want to tell to other people about that. "But you can see ghost duh!” I said with full of sarcasm. "Yep. If it's a real ghost, and are you scared in ghosts? Opps.. you’re a ghoster remember?" And my crazy friend laughed as if she wasn't a ghoster too. "Wow am I the only ghoster here? You too" I muttered to her. "Hmm Aeshe whats the feeling of being ghosted?” she asked me out of nowhere. "Did you see the guys who cry when we are leaving them? And to see a guy crying with just a week of flirting with them it would have been a lot of pain that it caused them to cry like that." I said to her.

"It's the grim reaper's hideout. If you don't believe me, find it out yourself. But it would be too late to come back once you stepped in." The ghosts trembled. "...Why are you going there? Aren't you scared?" They still wanted to follow but they were afraid of the aura they felt at the top so they questioned me instead. "Are you planning to die?" "I am scared. But my body already died. " Of course, it's a lie. "If the grim reaper wanted to terminate me, then I could do nothing about it." I have to lie so these ghosts won't follow us. The ghosts were silent. They could not take a step forward toward the forest and be easily caught in the barrier. Because if they did, there's no way out.

Failing to contain her curiosity, she asks Lolita about it. "Aside from rumors about ghosts scaring and making fun of passers by, I know nothing else, Miss." "Ghosts?" "I apologize but I refuse to tell stories of them. Not now that's it's already midnight."

He wrote about them based on the myths that he had heard, read, and gathered while continuing his daily life. "Van, open the door!" He groaned and got up from his seat. "What do you want? I’m writing." Van answered with no soul in his voice. He never let go of his passion for writing. Unfortunately, there was barely anyone wanting to buy any of his recent books. His patrons who used to buy his work say that his recent ones are too scary to be read as a children’s tale and too alarming to be enjoyed by adults. Still, he continued to write about those creatures unknown to men, lurking in the dark and waiting for the perfect victim.

Did their spirits linger, observing the next generation? Ghosts and spirits were a murky area for me. Logically, I knew they didn't exist, but a well-written story could spark a flicker of doubt. And right now, doubt flickered brightly. After all, storms and ghosts seemed to go hand-in-hand. This situation eerily mirrored the movie we'd watched earlier.

Ghost stories around a bonfire—what could be more suspenseful and playful? Alastair settled down next to me, his hand finding mine. He gave it a reassuring squeeze as he began his tale. "Once, in these very woods, there was a legend of a ghostly figure that would appear every full moon. They say that those who encountered this spirit were granted a wish, but at a great cost..." His words hung in the air, and the pack leaned in closer, their eyes locked on Alastair, captivated by the haunting tale. The crackling of the fire seemed to echo the suspense in the atmosphere.

Each account had been published in various ghost hunting guides available in local bookstores. “You really believe all that?” Louis asked. “I look at it this way. A few things you might be able to write off as coincidence, bad luck, or someone making up a tale. But there are just so many stories collected in this one place that you have to pay attention. I mean, it seems like something’s going on.”