Telling Ghost Stories Novels & Stories

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.

I whispered. Gina was shaking, terror flashing in her eyes. I wish I knew what to tell her but I knew nothing about ghosts. My brothers did but during their time as hunters, they dealt more with the physical. I would have learned about ghouls last in my training and it would have been light reading. "I think this is your unique gift as a vampire," I said since it was the only thing that could explain why she was seeing ghosts in the first place. "Seeing ghosts?" She asked, taking a few careful steps.

Frank nodded—that was good enough for him anyway. "We're here!" the beggar exclaimed and suddenly stopped, pointing at a nearby hill. Frank stretched out with his senses to see that there was a graveyard halfway up the hill, and that there were people there. To be precise, it was more a curious energy signature that lingered there like when Frank turned invisible! "All the stuff about ghosts and haunting is but tall tales the forefathers told to spook each other," the beggar said.

I started the journey, I walked for two hours, and I wasn’t scared as I had my sword, my backpack and myself. I got to the river. I was thinking of sleeping there but then I started hearing voices and it seemed like the cold night river. I have heard about that river and how it can be. It is a place where spirits roam but it is famous for the Tell Tale spirit. The Tell-Tale spirit is a spirit that appears to tell you your future and it is always bad, it rarely comes out though, it has been disregarded as one of those old stories. I turned around to get away from the river and then it became extremely foggy all of a sudden and cold too, fear gripped me immediately and I knew I was in for it.

"And I tell them stories." "What kind of stories?" Herb said. This was the part that had gotten him out of bed early on a Saturday morning (his only day off from selling mattresses the rest of the week) to come over here. Willie had mentioned stories when Herb got after him for being late coming home so often. It seemed they made quite an impression on the kid, but when Herb asked what kind of stories they were Willie clammed up. The Brookwood woman shrugged. "You know: ghost stories. The kind children like. Mostly ones my grandmother told me when this was her home. I could tell you one, if you like? So you'll see that they're not so bad."

Failing to contain her curiosity, she asks Lolita about it. "Aside from rumors about ghosts scaring and making fun of passers by, I know nothing else, Miss." "Ghosts?" "I apologize but I refuse to tell stories of them. Not now that's it's already midnight."

"Most people don't." "Oh, she definitely did." "Why?" "Because she'd light candles everywhere and tell me it was an adventure." She laughed quietly at the memory. "We'd make hot chocolate." "We'd tell stories until the electricity came back." Lucien listened without interrupting. "What kind of stories?" "Bookshop ghosts." He blinked. "Ghosts?" "The friendly kind." She grinned. "They supposedly rearranged books during the night because they got bored." "And you believed that?" "I was seven." "...Fair enough."

I said to her. “When I was a little girl, my grandmother would always tell me stories, like fairytales. Her stories though were about werewolves, ghouls, fairies and nymphs. She spoke about them like they were real, like they lived among us. I’ve always been a believer because of her,” Anna said. “I don’t know about ghouls, nymphs and fairies,” I said. “You didn’t mention werewolves,” she said softly. “You know those are only stories, right?” I said to her.

And I didn’t expect her to fucking torture me with that image. I want to lose myself in her right now, but I also want to see that gleam in her eye when she learns something new. I take a deep breath. I promised myself a real shot with her, so ghost stories it is. But damn, it’s gonna be one hell of a long night. “Can you die from blue balls?” Hendrix mocks. “Ready to explore the supernatural tales of Waterloo?” She asks, biting her lip, her voice filled with excitement. “I’ve grown up around these legends, remember?” I say, still trying to pull myself together.

I gulped hard but did not move. "I am not gay. I am a straight woman. I never had any relationships in my life because everyone thinks of me as a freak. Not because I was a lesbian. I am known as the ghost hunter in Brooklyn. And just as guys hear that I can see ghosts, they run away from me. I don't lie. And my mother can not digest anything without lying." She spoke through her gritted teeth. She was trying to contain her anger. Hearing her, I was shocked again. I just could not believe that her mom literally lied to me.