Haunting Remorse Novels & Stories

Marcus cast his eyes down as his shame covered him like a new winter’s coat. “ For now,Noah, please just trust me.” For a while after Noah left his room, Marcus stared up at the ceiling, feeling like the lowest form of life for lying to his best friend. How could he possibly explain to him that his dad and new girlfriend were being haunted by an ancient spirit, the same one who haunted his gran and her sister years before? “ Hello Marcus.” The voice which suddenly interrupted his thoughts, was melodious and familiar. Marcus looked to his side and by the light of the moon beaming through the window, he saw her.

A MAN WHO DIES WITH VENGEANCE BECOMES AND STAYS A GHOST, UNLESS THE SOUL TAKES ITS REVENGE. ****** The next day morning Benjamin returned home like a psycho patient. His shirt was torn and hair disheveled. He was limping and threw stones on whoever approached him. Nobody knew where his wife was and what happened to her. But he was telling everyone to unlock the haunted mansion and release his wife who was laying there with no conscience. Amara was quiet disturbed learning her uncle's health status. She wanted to take him to a psychiatrist immediately but Lima stopped her. She was suspecting the worst and knew the inevitable was bound to happen in the very near future.

eyes turning into two hollow voids of "Cancelled Narrative." "Silas! Lyra!" the Author’s voice echoed through the static, sounding like a dying wish. "The 'Scent of Remorse' is the only thing the 'Reset' can't touch! It's the 'Biological Error' that keeps the story real! Use the 'Ugly Truth' to anchor the 'Unmapped'!"

Give me 500 thousand dollars, and I’ll think about it. I hit send. Three seconds later, Jonah called. I did not answer it. I blocked his number instead. It was obvious that he was cursing my name, calling me heartless and cruel. He was probably saying that I was a money-minded witch. But that was alright. It was better that they hated me. Hatred was better than guilt. I curled up in my narrow and slightly damp single bed. The taste of blood on my tongue still made me nauseated. But I did not dare to puke.

The pain, so palpable, etched deep scars upon his soul, scars that would forever remind him of the treachery he had endured. As they stood there, locked in a battle of gazes, Darren felt the temptation to succumb to the darkness that beckoned him. Revenge whispered in his ear, its seductive voice promising sweet satisfaction. The urge to lash out, to make them feel the same pain that seared through his heart, surged within him like a tempest.

'She was walking on a busy street way back to her home. It was late evening yet it wasn't completely dark. To reach home as soon as possible she took a short cut that was abandoned for a while now due to some construction work going on. The ally was darker than the usual, she couldn't understand why in the would she chose such a creepy short cut? Yeah because if she was late the landlord may just ask her to find a new place to live? Sighing, walked ahead until she heard a creepy voice just behind her, she abruptly turned to see nothing. She was anything but calm, however, she thought it was just her imagination. She turned to walk forward when she saw a contour just an inch away from her. Sh

Holly Boland. A name that had lingered in the deepest corners of my mind for a decade. “Haunted” wasn’t quite the right term—it was too much of a shadowy word, conjuring images of dark corridors and restless spirits. No, she haunts me like a bittersweet memory that tugs at your soul. She was meant to be mine, a thought that twists in my stomach like a knife. I could easily surrender to the murky waters of regret—wallowing in the what-ifs and could-have-beens—but I refuse to let myself drown in that despair.

My shaking fingers jotted down whatever I witnessed: * "In a moment of passing weakness, Damien's eyes flashed a moment of remorse that is uncharacteristic of the cold heartlessness I have come to expect from him." Is this remorse or only another stage of pretence? "* The words dried up in ragged spate, scribbling out the bleak doubt of the encounter. I wrestled with an agonising dilemma. On one side, proof against him was so pervasive, every other issue another wedge driven into the coffin of the man I loved."

--- She stood slowly, walked to the window, back turned. “You ever see a shadow that reminded you of someone you buried?” she asked softly. He froze. “I have,” she continued. “And it makes you wonder — did you ever know them at all?” He rose too, his voice gravel. “You remind me of someone I lost.” She turned, met his gaze — and for a second, let it show. Pain. Rage. Hurt. Then she blinked it away. “Then I guess we’re both haunted.” She walked out, leaving the file untouched.

I stare at him in confusion, and just as I am about to voice my question he answers. “I saw you! Everything felt so real, at one point I thought that everything that was happening was real!” As I look into his eyes I see remorse and something more, longing. “It wasn’t till you said something that I realised that it was something that you would never say to me. So what did you see?”