Gravestone Stories Novels & Stories

It was April, and spring had finally sprung in New York. In Queens Cemetery, the grass had begun to turn green again. A few unnamed wildflowers had grown beside my gravestone, as if they had decided to stay where I once was. Vincent came every afternoon. Sometimes, he brought a book; sometimes, he brought nothing at all, but he would sit by the gravestone for hours. John would sometimes follow him, standing far away at the cemetery gate. From there, he watched Vincent’s silhouette. The man who once made New York’s underworld tremble now spent his days sitting in front of a grave, quietly letting an afternoon pass him by. Sometimes, Vincent would speak to the gravestone. Other times, he just

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.

Too many read ‘Fell in the war,’ while others offer a personal farewell. I recognize some of the logos… former members of The Shadows or other existing packs. Yet there are unknown symbols too. One, featuring a snake, that I have seen on some of Zombie's members; there are so many graves marked with it, most stating they were lost in the war. It gives me the unsettling impression that an entire pack was wiped out. Other stones bear faded logos of a rearing horse or a crudely drawn cat. Inside the graveyard, the expanse seems endless. So many lives cut short, and though there are no dates on the stones, I can’t help but imagine that none of these souls lived to see old age.

“This will require a bit of storytelling, I’m afraid.” “Go ahead,” I said, crossing my arms. Allen’s mouth twitched, then he walked in a slow circle around us, his raven still perched like a crown on his shoulder. “A few weeks ago, Dominic and one of his Deltas stumbled across an abandoned cemetery just outside the old territories. Nothing but ruins, overgrown stone, and a dangerous creature of corruption, much like the one Varen is using to terrorize the town. But buried in one of the graves was a skeleton engraved with gold.”

There was nobody there, nothing at all. Jared stared at it. His mouth opened but no sound came out at first. Then a noise erupted from the back of his throat, it was something between a sob and a growl. "What in the-" One gravedigger leaned over to look, his eyes wide with astonishment. "Where's the body?" "Someone must have stolen it.” Jared whispered shakily. His heart thumping wildly.” Maybe grave robbers found the body or someone performed an act of necromancy.”

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.

1826 was the year that was listed as the oldest. Gwen made her way to the location of her mother's grave with great care as she went between the headstones. Cremation was the more common form of final disposition among werewolves. However, her mother had expressed a desire for a Christian burial, and despite the fact that there was not going to be a church service, the minister from the Methodist church in Jackson had consented to preside over the graveside service.

*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.