Graveyard Stories Novels & Stories

The sound is unbearable—a symphony of breaking glass mixed with voices that bleed into one another until I can't tell where one Selene ends and another begins. My feet leave the ground. We all rise, pulled by invisible threads toward something that shouldn't exist—a place I've only heard whispered about in the darkest corners of lunar prophecy. “The Throat of Echoes.’ The legendary graveyard where broken selves go to scream their final truths before silence swallows them whole.

My pulsed races in my ears as my mind played over and over the events that had just played off no more than thirty minutes ago. I had given Stan the book and I was more than sure that he walked away with it. But when I walked up to the van with hopes to collect a good meal, I was handed the same book I had traded out. And the worst part of it all was that the man actually believed he was serving me a plate from the truck. What kind of fucked up shit did Gerald just put me into? My steps slowly came to a halt as I reached the abandoned monetary that stood at the outskirts of town. Its columns were dilapidated and overgrown weeds surrounded the building. It looked and smelt like shit, but it w

"What is it, Dominic? Tell me." "I must talk to Gideon first. I do not know all the details." "What are you not telling me?" He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He doesn't want to worry me, but that ship has sailed. He hesitates a few more seconds, looking away like he's choosing what to say. I grow more impatient. "Dominic, what's going on?" "There has been some activity at the graveyard," he admits, glancing back up at me. "What does that mean?"

Even if you die, everyone would just hold a grudge against you for bringing the samples with you. "If you beg, Zachary and I might feel generous enough to go collect your corpse." My silence only earned sharper mockery. Zachary spoke coldly, "Before you die, remember to put those samples back into the car. Luna still needs them for her merit, you know? "Besides, if you hold it while you die, who knows what bad karma it's going to bring for a pregnant woman like her?" The samples… I had found them through countless observations, nearly exhausting myself in the process, and now they wanted to take even that from me.

*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.

Anne wished they hadn’t spoken to that batty old man, listening to his riddles and dead-end tales. The later discovery of alternate tales, crude folklore and legends betrayed by a handful of the old or wandering mad reinforced Damon’s suspicions of an ancient grave site, though there was no recorded information of its existence until Damon’s final research paper. There Damon recounted it by name, “The Mourner’s Cradle.”

Hayden said as he led me by the hand. We walked uphill a little bit through the grass before we arrived at what I suspect was our true destination for the night. Unlike the unkempt grassy area from before, the landscape in front of me seemed to be well maintained. The grass short and orderly and there were enough light on poles to properly illuminate the area. However, I never would have guessed that he would bring me to a place like this… A graveyard…and a very large one at that. “This graveyard belongs to my family. Well, the Torex family or if you would like ‘the gang’. Everyone from the gang who dies is buried here,” Hayden explained.

Crescent, not knowing the whole story, had given Rose and Jericho her parents’ old bedroom for their wedding night. Needless to say, it was beyond awkward. Not for Jericho, though, as he immediately made himself comfortable on the queen-sized bed after taking a short shower. He studied his vibrating wedding ring, marveling at the magical hum that it emitted. Both Feron and Father Benedict had warned them about it, how wedding rings that undergo ritual magic released certain frequencies into the air for a couple of days. Father Benedict also told them that it was what they needed to access the first part of the Riddle of Life. Though theyy didn't yet know what it entailed.

Cold wind howls through the trees, reminding me that there is nothing around, of the endless chasm that stretches out before me. I place my sword back in its scabbard and turn back to the well-trodden path that leads to the manor. The earth turns to cobblestone, and I find myself turning to my side, where a part of the forest is cleared out. Tombstones stand there, more than forty. A personal graveyard for the once revered warrior dynasty of Greten. I used to think visiting was hard in the start, when others were standing next to me, shedding silent tears for the martyrs.

His voice was ragged, his chest heaving under his soaked shirt. "I’m fine," I lied for the hundredth time. I was definitely not fine. I was shivering so hard my teeth were clicking together, and the heavy satchel of ledgers was banging against my hip, bruising me with every movement. But I wasn't letting go of those books. Not now. The graveyard sat on a small hill, surrounded by a rusted iron fence that looked like jagged teeth against the gray sky. It was a lonely, creepy place even on a sunny day, but in this storm, it felt like the set of a horror movie. We needed to get to the SUV Henry had stashed for us just past the cemetery gates. It was our ticket out of this nightmare.