Haunted House Stories Ideas Novels & Stories

Never have I had the courage to enter inside the building, not with the many creepy and scary tales I have heard about this place. When I was a child there was a popular tale that was going on about this house. People say the house is haunted by ghosts_ actually the ghosts are the owners of the building as I was told. A family of ghosts living inside the mansion scaring and eating people's brains, especially little kids that make the mistake of setting foot into the building. Hearing the story now it seems kinda pathetic and not practical. How can ghosts eat people's brains?? They are ghosts, they are literally matterless. What am I even saying. Ghost ain't even real but still it's kinda sca

“Yeah…maybe lay off, Louise. You know Sarah. Fickle moods, and she’s even more fickle about what she talks about. And he’s not her type anyway. She’s into that guy who works in the shoe shop.” Louise, as it seemed, was her name, shrugged. “Dunno why. Having an interesting family would be awesome. But,” she looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes alight with an unpleasant gleam. “Having a haunted house would be even better. Best watch out; not many people last there. The owners before you were lucky; they jumped before they were pushed, so to speak.” “Haunted? Right.” I folded my arms. “Look, I might be unsure about things, but that’s one step too far.”

“About the swamp being haunted?” I nod. Even though we hadn’t grown up together, I’m pretty sure that we both had gotten the same tired ghost stories passed around in the hallways about such places around our hometowns. “I know this sounds crazy, but what if the stories are true?” Her tone is fervent, and her eyes shine with a hot certainty. “Not the witches and stuff. But there is something there, and I think…” She draws in a deep, steadying breath. “I think it’s a demon.”

He never told me what had happened when he spent the night; just that he would never set foot in that building again. I questioned him about what he had seen and experienced but he only gave vague explanations and mutterings. My disbelief of ghosts and haunted houses seemed reasonable to me since he wouldn’t offer any details of what had happened. It seemed that every time we got together after that, our conversations always seemed to gravitate back to that night. You couldn’t enjoy a meal or a few beers without his mumblings and warnings always popping up; just like the mysterious ghosts. I’d end up asking him to tell me what happened and we’d end up arguing because he wouldn’t give the det

he admits. "That's okay," I say. "Then I'll borrow it for you." He huffs weakly. "How generous." I smile softly and begin to massage his scalp in slow circles. "Want to hear a story?" He cracks his untainted eye open, looking up at me. "What kind of story?" "A harmless one," I say. "From when I was little." His lips twitch. "Go on." I take a deep breath. "When I was six, I was convinced our house was haunted."

After I was done peeling the apple, I munched on it and began chatting with her, seemingly nonchalantly, like I was just talking about the weather, while telling her everything that had happened in my past life. Lacey's eyes were first filled with terror, then confusion, then shock. When I was done with my story, Lacey said with much difficulty, "Impossible… You couldn't have had a past life… That's all bullshit! "I'd never have killed you… I'd never… You shouldn't believe it… You're making a stupid mistake!" I threw the apple core into the trash can and wiped my hands clean. "Don't be stupid. Why would I ever kill you? Your boyfriend will do the job instead.

I stayed silent. "The apartment where she had that accident was a company unit assigned to her," Stan said. "It's been empty ever since the accident. Later, the company wanted to take the place back, but the staff they sent over all got badly spooked. Over time, rumors that the place was haunted started to spread." He looked at me, his gaze sharpening. "But that changed when you showed up. When I first saw your rental address, I was shocked. I honestly thought you'd be running out of there in tears within three days. But you didn't.

I felt that wasn’t enough. So I cleared my throat and said, “I also have a story about knocking on doors. You’ve probably all seen it before, since I read this one online.” “There was a very poor man who could only afford to rent a haunted apartment. Before moving in, he deliberately asked the landlord about the story behind it.” “The previous tenant of the room had suffered heartbreak and jumped to his death from the apartment window. Ever since then, people often claimed to see the dead tenant come back.”

The girl took it, pulled herself up, and together they followed the warmth and noise back into the hollow of the house. — Later, as the council—old and new—crowded the main room, someone called for a story. Not the true kind, but the kind that made survival feel like a myth ripped from bone. Elena took her seat at the head of the ragged table. The new blood sat close, alert, expectant. She cleared her throat and let the silence bloom. “This is the story,” she said. “Of the house that ate its own nightmares. Of teeth and blood and the bitter cold that never let up. Of monsters who were just people with no one left to bite.”

I called to make sure she was still on the line as I parked my car in the driveway. "Still here. Hey, can I ask you a quick question?" She asked anxiously. "Sure." "What were your parents thinking when they bought the house you're living in. I swear it's haunted, at least that's what the rumors say. You should see how creepy the place looks on Halloween night. It's fucked up."