Telling Ghost Stories Novels & Stories

"With time, we'll get used to them." When we got home, I told Mom the stories the gas man had shared, but she shrugged it off. "It's just a harmless superstition, baby. Nothing is happening here. Can't you see? This place is amazing." Well, I guess she was right. But the way the townspeople told the stories, with wide eyes, and hushed tones.... it made it feel like more, than just bedtime stories. But despite all that... I never believed in monsters. Ghosts? Maybe. Witches? Of course. But vampires and werewolves? Please.... what a laugh. I may have a flair for the dramatic, but I had my limits.

It was sold and is currently a computer shop. The End...?. ++++++++++ Female Spirit Story #1: Stolen Shots Hi guys, thanks for accepting me. I want to share a story about something that happened to me a long time ago. I was the type of person who didn’t believe in ghosts. I didn’t scare easily either. And I also thought back then that stories about them were all made up or just figments of people's wild imagination. Also, I thought that they were just created to scare others who will listen to them.

“She should probably start with the stories Nana always loved to tell her. Those are the type that might be illegal.” “What the hell, Tate. Why are you out here ratting out Nana like that?” “Tell me,” I say, ignoring her fake annoyance with Tatum. “Everyone has heard of ghost wolves,” she starts with a sigh. “But no one ever talks about what they are, how they came to be.” “All I recall hearing was that they were wandering wolves who lost their mates.” I shrug and Tatum shakes her head. “No, they are a ghost of themselves because they never found their mates.” Tatum corrects me and I roll my eyes. “Our moms always argued about that bit when they would try to scare us with the stories.”

Those who had discovered the truth were swiftly silenced, their secrets dying with them. The rumors about The Ghost were the stuff of criminal legend. They said he could walk through walls, that he had spies in every major organization, that he could make people disappear without a trace. Some said he wasn't human at all, but a vengeful spirit who had returned from the dead to punish the wicked. Victor did nothing to discourage these tales—in fact, he cultivated them.

"You'd go so far as to fake a death certificate just to keep this charade going? Isn't this a bit much? Aren't you ashamed of yourselves?" I stared at the man I had once loved with all my heart, a man who now felt like a stranger. This cold, unfeeling creature was my husband—the same man I had devoted years of my life to, the same man I had trusted and loved. To him, I was nothing but a manipulative liar, capable of fabricating my own death just to spite him. "Have you lost your mind, Grayson?" My mother-in-law's voice trembled, the disbelief heavy in her words. "Who would joke about something like this? Belle is truly gone. Her body is at the funeral home right now. Come with me and see for

“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.

"You're hiding something, and I respect that. I also hope it's murder. I like murder. Keeps things spicy." Noah raised an eyebrow. "You always talk like that?" "Only when I like someone. When I don't, I'm worse." A pause. The radiator groaned. "I sat near the back," Noah offered, as if that explained everything. Emrys nodded. "Where the ghosts sit." Noah tilted his head. "Campus has ghosts," Emrys said matter-of-factly. "Not real ones. Well — maybe. But the other kind. People who show up, hover, vanish. Always a story. Always something weird behind the eyes."

It coiled my nerves and spine, weighing in the air like something tangible. I remembered Mom telling me stories when I was younger. Some were just simple bedtime stories to help me sleep, but others were scary ghost stories goaded on by Leo. Wanting to be brave like my older brother, I begged for them too. She was a silver-tongued narrator. Whether it was Goldilocks and the Three Bears or an old Italian ghost story, Mom painted pictures so vividly it was as if she’d experienced them firsthand. And I knew what she was about to tell me was a firsthand experience, and she was going to weave an image that would likely keep me up at night wondering if Mattia was going to appear standing over my b

Tonight, as usual, was full of a lot more fun than usual. Boys who didn't have to go to the evening class were excited and cheering loudly in the dark, almost like werewolves howling all the time when the moon is full. Outside, the wind was very strong, and lightning and thunder were going off. In this kind of situation, it makes sense to tell ghost stories. The four men went to bed and took turns telling each other stories. They purposely lowered their voices so that they could barely be heard in the dark, which caused even more worry and tension. When they heard this, it was only natural for their heads to feel numb.

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"."