Indian Ghosts Stories Novels & Stories

“They're not far from East Hampton, so we got all kinds of stuff about 'em.” “What are the noises?” Leesa asked. “Rumblings and tremors underground,” Cali explained. “Stories about the noises go all the way back to Indian times. They're called the Moodus Noises cuz they occur by the Moodus River…right near where the Mastons live,” she added in a low, spooky tone. “They've studied the crap out of the place, but no good explanation has ever been found why there are so many tremors there. The Indians thought it was a god expressing his anger. We more enlightened folk blame it on those Maston people. The Noises are real, though. All the other stuff—strange blue fires that flare up and vanish, ho

Gentlemen and Ladies welcome to a world that apparently is very similar to yours. Here we have all the big cities and all the big states too. But we also have some things more, and it is not the dragons, vampires and werewolves you are thinking about. I am talking about the oddly things. Boys that never grow, invisible men, and cats in boots. You know which place all those figures appears. Welcome to fairy tales world, this is the antics of Bia's crew.

With that, Kiran abruptly opened the red bottle. “No, don’t!” Caleb’s voice, filled with anger and boundless pain, screamed as if his heart had been pierced. Whoosh! A red ghostly figure emerged from the bottle, transforming into a mist of blood and flying in all directions before vanishing. “That’s my wife Zara’s spirit,” cried a man kneeling on the ground, reaching out as if trying to grasp her. Kiran paused, surprised that the spirit had escaped without a chance for him to offer it peace. He quickly covered the bottle’s mouth with his hand, reciting incantations to calm the remaining spirits.

Was this a ghoststring coin? He waved his hand again, and the soul carriage stopped dead in its tracks right there in Ghost City. All the spirits running food stands turned to stare at the soul carriage. A hanged spirit, whose tongue was sticking out, asked the drowned spirit next to him, "How'd this man bite it? I can't believe someone actually had the guts to drive down here." The drowned spirit let out a couple of chuckles, bubbles floating out with each laugh. "That's a soul carriage. Just wait and watch. The Phantom Patrols are about to wreck his day. I wonder who's inside that thing."

I screamed, a primal cry of terror and despair as I watched Shaurya and the creature argued and I was surprised to see that Shaurya was not at all scared of that ghost. He started chanting a holy prayer ( Hanuman Chalisa) pulled a firewood out of the fireplace and used it as a torch (flambeau). The moment he pulled it out, the ghost disappeared. Though I heard his voice... I stumbled forward, my legs trembling beneath me as I collapsed into his arms, tears streaming down my face as the full weight of what had just transpired crashed over me like a tidal wave. And as we clung to each other in the darkness.

She still had no strength to resist and was kicked into the oil pot by the Imps and fried. After eating one after another, the little ghosts guarding the oil pot seemed to belong to the hungry ghost road. No matter how much they ate, they would not be full. They had been frying the cultivator and eating separately. Soon, it was Caspian's turn. Without waiting for the little ghosts to kick him, he jumped into the oil pot. However, he didn't make any noise, instead immersed himself in another scene. This time, cultivators, big demons, and even evil ghosts were put on the execution ground one by one, and their bodies were torn into pieces.

The moon shines fully, illuminating the darkness outside and providing a glint of light to Svetlana’s eyes as she stared up at it while she sat on a bench with Ahrio next to her. “There’s a legend in Southeast Asian countries that whenever it’s the full moon, ghosts, monsters and other scary supernatural beings appear and roam the world of the living. Do you know that?” Svetlana shared one of those horror stories she had heard from her childhood. Smiling, she glanced at Ahrio and caught him just staring at her face like he’s engrossed about everything about her. “Really? Do those supernatural beings include goddesses? Coz I’m definitely seeing one right now.”

"Wait. I need to know. Why did, uhm, whatever, carelessly pick me?" "Go back." The woman wasn't paying her any attention. She kept on plucking cowries and attaching them to her head. "What is he? Oh, don't answer that one. He's a ghost. I know that. Why is he in that state? No, no, why can I see him? Why can l feel his touch, ghosts can't do that, can they? What does he need me for?" The old woman stopped her scaly hands from further movements and stared directly at Geneva through her foggy eyes that obviously saw clearly.

He stood straight with a serious face as he began his explanation. "Ghosts are the souls of dead humans who... well, aren't ready to rest in peace. They don't have powers. All they can do is move from one place to another without being seen. Well, not by everyone though." "But... if you're a demon, why then are you in this form?" She couldn't help but ask.

“Fine, we’ll let Hellfire tell us a ghost story.” “I don’t know any ghost stories,” I say. “What about you, Siren?” Venom asks her. “Nope.” “Well, then, it’s time the two of you become good at making up stories,” Intrigue says. For the next couple of hours, while Hacker and Sphinx work in the van, the rest of us make up ghost stories. I have to admit, Raptor is really good at making up scary stories and Intrigue is as well. Megan’s aren’t terrible, but Venom’s are, as they said, pretty stupid. I’m not sure mine are any better, but I made up one about the ghost that lives in the river, and it made everyone glance at the river we’re sleeping beside more than once.