Gravestone Stories Novels & Stories

As I stared blankly at the gravestone, the elderly cemetery caretaker approached and struck up a conversation with me. "Sir, do you know Old Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan? I don't think I've ever seen you here before." It was such a simple question, yet it made my heart throb in pain all the same. After all, who am I when the place that should have belonged to Jessica's husband had already been engraved with Christian's name? Although I was standing under the sunlight, I felt like some lowly rat that ought to hide in the shadows. How could I stand before these gravestones when I didn't have a respectable identity that I could claim aloud?

After that, the women knew the story behind the graveyard's name and the reason why its walls are unbreakable and unbelievably high and why there are bad spirit trap talismans hanging around. According to Bek, it was once the ancient graveyard of the exiled royal personalities—the wronged and guilty. By means of eradicating their evil traces and for justice, they were buried nameless as a symbol they should be forgotten by everyone, including their families and relatives. Thus, the graveyard acquired such name. Though such law of justification had long been taken down centuries ago. Now it serves as a vacant lot where kidnapped and sold people who became useless and sick where left to die.

Takoda continued. "The stories," I answered honestly. His head tilted slightly to the side. "What stories?" I glanced back toward Professor Smith. The scholar gave me the smallest, most encouraging nod. I looked back at Takoda, anchoring my feet to the floor. "Standing stones that appeared on no official survey," I said, holding his gaze. "An abandoned church that locals insisted had never existed." "The old mining trails," Takoda added, prompting me. "The disappearances," I countered. "The legends surrounding your family's land.”

so long as my death came after I’d achieved my goals. Highgate was truly beautiful this time of year, its frosted trees and shrubbery intermingling with the snowy graves. Foxes crept among the tombstones. Spiders wove glistening webs. Angel statues cried ice tears. Loretta and I wandered it aimlessly until we reached a section devoted to immortals. The graves here were all from the past year or two. Loretta stopped before one. “I knew him,” she said. The grave belonged to Billy Portbelly, a “devoted husband” who had perished a few months before.

Gideon sighed, and tried to usher me down another hallway. "Let me just do my thing.: I told him, frustrated, and wanting to explore more. "You don't know what memories this castle holds.... For more than just you." He admitted. I looked at him, seeing the sadness in his eyes. "We lost our King and Queen, their heirs, the rest of their whole tribe the day your parents disappeared. There are rooms in this place that I'll never enter again." He stopped to look at me. I tried to be interested in the paintings on the walls, then shifted uncomfortably. "What do you mean, 'When they disappeared?' My parents were killed." I asked him, then informed him. I shook my head, I could never get a clear an

Half-buried in weeds. I turned, walked back to the car, and popped the trunk. A sledgehammer sat inside. Gift from a renovation company. Ribbon still tied on. Bright. Almost a joke. I grabbed it, walked back, and stopped in front of the headstone. Taking a breath, I tightened my grip around the cold metal. Then I swung. All in. Smashed it down. Crash. The sound ripped through the empty grounds. Bang. Again. And again. Until it was nothing but broken rubble.

"If.... If I'm ever going to have a baby again, I wish to have you again. That could... That could really make me feel so happy." I didn't even see what he or she looked like. It was still very much premature. I turned on the candle I brought with me, singing 'Happy Birthday' song to myself before turning off the candle. It was when I stood up, I noticed a dying flower by the side of the tombstone. I made a mental note to ask the old man who took care of the cemetery about it. A sharp pain grazed my stomach, making me halt. My hand curled into a fist. After I had regained consciousness, I moved my legs carefully. When I was sure enough that I wasn't feeling any pain again, I walked back to t

Yeah, I followed him. After an hour of staring at each other, the walls and ceiling, he spoke up. "Tomorrow is my parents death anniversary." I shifted uncomfortably. Hearing stories like this are really boring to me. You're probably thinking that I'm a psycho but that's how I roll. A tear slipped down his face.

“Hey, spread the news! The food at Ms. Graves’s food stall has cleansing properties!” “Ms. Graves is amazing!” The ghouls were all in a titter. The news quickly spread through the supernatural world like wildfire.

Anyone fears him but those who are abandoned by their packs usually ends up in Casablanca as his new members only if they will agree to send their one son to be train with to a place they call, Gravedome. Just by the name of the place make the hairs at the back of my neck to straighten up. So so scary and super mysterious for the reason that all you will hear from the outside of the building are howls and lamentations like those werewolves that are sent will not survive a day... "What are you thinking? Let's eat already so that you will have time to enjoy your time in town. Drop by to the hospital later so that I will give you the documents that I will be working tonight... and don't forget