Ghost Stories Train Novels & Stories

It was as if he didn’t know they were there, or didn’t care. When they reached the hitching post in front of the mess house, Roy hopped off his horse with his hand extended. “It’s good you’re back,” Adam said as he shook Roy’s hand. Roy gave Jackson a curious look. “Ya seem a little green. Are ya feelin’ okay?” Mike took the reins of Roy’s horse. “He’s just realized that this place is haunted.” Roy raised a brow as he looked from one person to the next. “Good thing I brought the medicine man with me.”

Everything about that bus screamed 'money'. 'What a sumptuous bus this is. I wonder how its interior is?' He couldn't help but admire the fine grand bus which was colored in red. After all, this was his old habit. To appreciate the beauty no matter if it belonged to a person or even a thing. Suddenly, the glass of one of the windows of the other bus slid open, and someone emerged out of it. "Aye! Yooo!! If it isn't the poor and miserable Ghost Busters team!? Eh!?" A guy with black hair tied in a ponytail with a patchy beard came into everyone's view as they heard his mocking voice.

"You can wipe the sweat off me. That took a lot out of me." "Ghosts don't sweat." "Psychologically. You'll see when we get back." I laughed. The car door closed, and the engine roared to life, pulling us away from the dark night.

I reached out and pressed the radio button on the steering wheel. My voice was cold, cutting through the static. "Mason Vale, do you see a ghost in your mirror?" I said coldly into the radio. Those words pierced straight through Mason's last line of composure. His car hesitated for an obvious instant on the straight. Now. I smashed the throttle down. The car tore through the air and pulled alongside him. Ahead was a chain of fast S-curves. Seeing that I was about to pass, a vicious look flashed through Mason's eyes.

By the time Richard arrived, the funeral was almost over. Everyone who had come to say goodbye was gone. Only I remained. I wanted a little more time with Chloe. She'd always been clingy. And she was afraid of the dark. "Richard, see? I told you Selena was lying. If this were really a funeral, why is nobody here? This is obviously another stunt to get you to come home." Grace's voice cut through the silence. Richard's face darkened.

"Since the math started including you." As the sun began to bleed over the horizon, painting the rail yard in shades of bruised purple and gold, we left the signal tower. We were heading back to the heart of the beast—the Cavallo Estate. The "Diesel Ghost" was coming home, and this time, the "Quiet" wouldn't be enough to stop him.

Tank asked, sounding both thrilled and terrified. "Exactly," I confirmed. "We match speed, hit the ghost-switch, and slip through the EM barrier. But you have to drop the phase the millisecond your tires touch the roof of the train, or you'll phase right through the floor and end up as a smear on the tracks below." "Timing is everything," Dax said. "You heard her, Wolves. Tighten up!" A low, deep vibration began to shake the ground beneath our wheels. It wasn't the sound of an engine; it was the displacement of air.

"Fine. Keep him safe. I swear, if he comes back with even a single scratch..." "He won't," Kael promised. "I'll carry him." "And no sugar! He gets hyperactive!" Jackson shouted before the call cut out. "Too late," Julian licked orange dust off his fingers. "Let's go," Nova said. "The compass is pulling." They picked the rusty lock of the service gate and descended into the station. It was breathtaking. The Ghost Station was a time capsule. The curved ceilings were covered in beautiful emerald and cream Guastavino tiles. Elegant brass chandeliers hung from the arches, covered in decades of dust. It was dead silent.

Vehicles are the source of endless stories that include the macabre, the paranormal, and the supernatural. You've heard of stories and seen videos of so-called ghosts taking rides, along with blockbuster novels and movies of supposed haunted cars, trains, and even ships. That being said, here are a few selected experiences from our friends at PAS and Paramdam. And I honestly hope you like them, dear reader... Enjoy! +++++++++ Story 1: Beep, Beep, Beep...

Just the sound of tires on wet roads and the low hum of the heater. At the station, I bought a train ticket to Blackwood. State prison. Every mile the train moved brought a ghost with it. My mother’s screams. The red stain on our kitchen wall. His laugh—low, mean, full of nothing but hate. I swallowed hard and leaned back in my seat. Pulled my hoodie over my head and turned on the music. Slipped in my earbud. The beat helped. Not much—but enough to hold the worst thoughts back. I looked out the window. Trees blurred by. Towns passed. My chest felt like it was caving in slowly.