Novel & Cerita Real Scary Ghost Stories

her voice was trembling. "Do not be afraid, I am here for you," she heard a voice of a man that she always misses. She wanted to stay far away from him but she was afraid of the dark since she heard a story that there is a ghost in this building and many peopel suicide in here because of different reasons. She thinks that it is haunted even though her coach already stop her from saying and believing in those. "Are you real? Tell me that you are not a ghost!" she was panicking as she ordered him.

and so, only to Daniella, I’ll be frank and admit it, “I’m scared of ghosts.” Daniella chuckles, it seems like she isn’t afraid of ghosts. She mentions, “Actually they are not that scary.” Ugh, “They are not scary?” Excuse me? Are you kidding me? Have you watched The Conjuring? I scoff, “They scared the shit out of me! And it was just in the movies! Who knows what happens if I see them in real life!” “Well not the real ones!” Daniella mentions, “Those in the haunted house are fake, they are humans, or maybe just puppets on mechanisms! They aren’t that scary!”

But after all the goosebumps, 'twas just a tree. "Relax," she tangles her arm with mine, "those trees scare the intruders if any. A similitude of scarecrow." "Oh, but you're scared, too." "Of course! This forest is creepy! This is where the tears of our dead pack are preserved. Sometimes, those watch-wolves heard an agonizing howl in here." "Then there are ghosts here?" "That can't be!" I finally made a chuckle for the first time in a while. "That story is just a legend. It's a stupid creed to be true."

As I stepped out and fumbled for my towel, a spooky creak scraped along the doorframe, sending a jolt of fear through my veins. Gosh, why did I do this to myself? I had this terrible habit of reading horror stories and spending sleepless nights huddled under the covers in fear. And then it came again, the same scraping noise but followed by muffled, ominous laughter. It was definitely not my overactive imagination. Did someone else use this room when I wasn't around at night? Goosebumps erupted across my already prickling skin as I slowly opened the door a sliver to look. It was only a quarter past nine, too early for ghosts to come out. At least in the stories I read, they waited till midni

“The myth of the night where the Great vampire prince, awakens. The one who has the ability to make the dead undead?” “I don’t believe in those legends or myths, Garza. I’ll just see my parents as soon as possible and be done with it,” I replied him. “You might not believe it, child. But be careful, for whoever awakens him, becomes his bride till eternity,” I scoffed at his words, breathing it off and leaving Julian with him as he had bad feeling about literally everything. Here is me now, presently. I’m trying not to be scared because from my experience in horror movies, ghosts didn’t made people die. It was themselves.

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 now, we’ve all had more than a few drinks, and we’re halfway between tipsy and passed out. “Let’s tell scary stories,” Laura, one of my friends, suggests. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Kara asks. “These woods are spooky at night. I have to be able to sleep, you know.” “Maybe we should call one of those hunky forest rangers for you,” I suggest with a laugh. “He’d better bring a friend,” Laura says. “Or twelve,” Diana, another friend of mine, adds. We all laugh, and Laura starts in on the first story about night walkers, ghostly figures who march through the forest.

Little did I know that ten years later, it would come down in a windstorm that shook the house, and I could swear to this day that it was a twister. Now that I have a new husband who doesn’t believe in ghosts at all, not as many strange things go on that did when the children were little, except for a couple of things. Between the blood roots in the basement that poke through the cracks in the cement floor and spread to everything they come into contact with, to the shadow in my closet that moves in the night and has eyes that peer at me when I least expect it. There have been so many times when I wake up after hearing my name called out of a sound sleep. This is one of those times when ev