Novel & Cerita Long Ghost Stories

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.

By the time Richard arrived, the funeral was almost over. Everyone who had come to say goodbye was gone. Only I remained. I wanted a little more time with Chloe. She'd always been clingy. And she was afraid of the dark. "Richard, see? I told you Selena was lying. If this were really a funeral, why is nobody here? This is obviously another stunt to get you to come home." Grace's voice cut through the silence. Richard's face darkened.

He had a story, and he would need help from the Blue Moon’s magic with that story. Jody had long ago learnt just to accept Gabriella’s hunches and stories. She always seemed to know what people needed and how the magic would have its way with a guest. Finally, but not least, there was a Greta Johansen coming. She was a ghost hunter and wanted to come to explore the hauntings of Evergreen Grove’s little hamlet.

they broke into a loud laugh as they shared some joke. Merindale did not care. She followed the seniors around, admiring the intricate details on the walls. It was painted beautifully with stories from Immortal history. “Hey there, newbie. You know about the ghost that haunts these halls, right?" Merindale was taken aback at the sudden question directed at her. She paused and looked back at the senior questioning her. Her eyes wide open. "A ghost?" "Oh yeah," he continued, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "Legend has it that the Ghost of Lysandra prowls these very grounds. She's said to snatch unsuspecting newcomers like you.”

Strickland was not on her side. Patsy would have helped her; she was almost certain. But she had taken ill recently and was on leave. She hoped that, once she recovered, her mother would have her back, and then she would tell her everything. She knew that Patsy would help her. The other ladies were all strict and rude, just like the aptly named Ms. Strickland. It would do no good to try to tell them. So Meggy cried herself to sleep each night, hoping to be lucky and not to be awoken in a few hours by the sound of the monster creeping up the stairs. This night, she tucked herself in tightly, hoping perhaps if the blankets were taut enough, he’d give up and go away. That had never worked befor

If I had to guess, they probably didn’t get very many visitors down here. “Usss too.” It said back to me, and I swore I could hear a hint of sadness in the piercing voice. The answer left me confused, and even more shaken than I already was. These were the beings my village told ghost stories about. Horrible, malformed, and endlessly vicious creatures that had tried to kill their own mothers. They were the things that went bump in the night, and attacked without a second thought. What would they have to be scared of?

he told them. "Tell it!" Leo insisted. Alex cleared his throat, his voice dropping to a low, storytelling rumble. "Once upon a time, there was a King who lived in the shadows. He was very strong, and was also feared, but he was very lonely. He lived in a world of grey, where nothing had any color or scent." he started telling the story. "Because he was grumpy," Lyra interrupted. "No, because he was waiting," Alex corrected gently. "He waited a long time. And then, one day, he walked into a room full of people, and he found a ghost." he said.

I suppose this means I'm about to have another not-so-pleasant chat with him, just as I did before, during, and after the Mate Ball. He's the one who had held me up after the liminal order arrived Crestbane, and he turned my body to stone so he could interrogate me about the state of Liminal Kaelith’s room, which he said was not in order. A signature behavior of mine. As we pass through the halls, I sense slight tremors in Velthra and know it's because of all the Ghasts there. Most people don't understand much about these creatures. They are like soul eaters and are readily available to feast on anything they find physically in Velthra.

Ghosts must be real. The ghost stories here are too many to keep track of, although Leonard knew them all. "Which story is this ghost from, Leonard?" I had a bit of liquid courage left. Leonard didn't answer me but I had hope that he'd hit the security button at his desk. It was a silent alarm. Then it spoke. "I guess you could say a ghost and I share a few things in common, but no love, I'm no ghost. Tethered spirits and lost souls are what humans call "ghosts"."

It was faint at first, but it grew louder, closer—a rhythmic thumping, like the heartbeat of the forest itself. Mateo’s posture shifted, his gaze snapping toward the trees area. “Do you hear that?” I nodded, my senses suddenly on high alert. The sound grew, the underbrush rustling as shadows moved between the dark trees. Then, one by one, figures emerged from the darkness, cloaked and hooded, their eyes glinting with an unnatural light. “Who are they?” I whispered, gripping Mateo’s arm tightly. “The Night Hunters,” he replied, his voice tight with fear.