Gravestone Stories Novels & Stories

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.

*This book is a work of fiction, no persons, places, names, and events are not in any associated with actual places, names, and events. This book is made for entertainment purposes. Enjoy* It is written that you only realize how much you love something or someone when you are no longer with them, as humans once we realize this we do whatever it takes to get that thing back. Working for a prestigious company and coming from a wealthy and highly educated Family, Bryson Lawrence had everything that one needs in life.

As he passed me, he stopped, his eyes filled with disgust. "Are you happy now, seeing me like this?" I did not answer, only feeling heavy inside. My husband of seven years had conspired with his lover to kill my mother, and then tried to kill me. After they were taken away, an officer turned to me, his voice steady. "Ms. Stone, regarding your mother's case, the evidence is clear. If you agree, we can merge that case with the current one and add additional charges."

And now, he'd never get the chance to make things right. So he moved into a small house beside the cemetery and became a grave keeper. It was his new job and the only thing he cared to do. Jayden planted sunflowers, row after row, in the yard. Every morning, he'd bring a fresh bunch to my grave. Then he'd sit beside the stone and talk to me, keeping me company as the sun rose and set, as clouds rolled in and drifted away. He missed me desperately. But I never appeared in his dreams. Not even in sleep could he see me again.

Maybe. A smile crept up my lips, uninvited. I could still hear his arrogant voice declaring himself nature’s gift to wolves. “What’s so funny?” Grandma Jade snapped. “The stars too fanny for you?” “Tch.” I turned to her, voice sharper than I meant. “Will you tell us anything about the graves being emptied?” “Bodies disappearing?” she echoed, tone shifting as she gently patted a young wolf’s head. “There’s been an uprising issue in Nightbane and the neighboring towns,” Antony explained. “Graves dug up. Mostly human corpses taken.”

Would she find her happily ever after somewhere in the bosom of Selene the moon goddess? My meditation was interrupted by the arrival of the black hearse. I watched pallbearers carry the casket from the hearse to the burial site, where the body of whoever this hole was bored for would rest. I walked deeper into the graveyard. Memories flooded my brain as I did so. I stopped at the innermost part of the graveyard, I noticed that most of the headstones were damaged and faded with the passage of time. I can tell that the graveyard was more than 150 years old by some of the legible inscriptions. There’s an inscription of a man who died in 1861. He probably lived in an era where there was no tele

My wolf, Luna, severed our connection hours ago—her suffering even more excruciating than mine. The only cure that could save us was just taken next door. My breathing grows shallow, each inhale more difficult than the last. My extremities have gone cold. Eventually, I lose even the strength to blink, and my heart stutters to a stop. The last sound I register is cheering from the adjacent room. Vivian has recovered from the wolfsbane poisoning—at the cost of my life. I refuse this ending. Something—perhaps the Moon Goddess herself—tears my spirit from my body. I become a ghost, unseen by the living, able to move through solid objects.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched, but I saw no one. As I continued to explore the graveyard, I came across a particularly old and decrepit gravestone. The inscription on it read "Here lies a witch, feared and revered in life, but now forgotten in death, but do you think I'm dead?". I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine. The graveyard was definitely giving off a creepy vibe, but it was also fascinating. I couldn't help but wonder about the stories of the witches buried here. Who were they? What powers did they possess? And why were they feared and revered in life, but now forgotten in death?

“There’ve been whispers. Nothing solid. Just… rumors. There was one I’d heard about a grave.” My brow arched. “A grave?” “Yes. An empty one. They said two corpses lay on either side, drained dry. Whoever stumbled on it swore it was linked to Dracula himself.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Dracula? Really? That’s the story floating around? Most of those tales are campfire trash meant to spook kids.” Her frown deepened, though a flicker of curiosity lingered in her gaze. “Maybe. I’ve never seen a vampire myself. Tell me the truth are they trying to spark another war?”

Anthony seemed drunk. The minute he walked through the door, the strong stench of alcohol hit me. Before my ghost friends and I could even guess what had happened, Anthony staggered straight into the bedroom, looking like his soul had been sucked out again. He threw his arms around my urn and suddenly started to sob. My friends were dumbfounded; the cards slipped from my hands and scattered all over the floor.