True Real Ghost Stories Novels & Stories

Tru nodded at me without another word and left the room. I finally found a plumber not scared of the town legend or the very real ghosts, and all I could think to ask is, why the hell is he not scared of the ghosts? I’m not sure what made me look up, but when I did, it was to see the ghost still floating mutely. What the hell does she want? To terrify me? Make me lose my mind? Guess what? Her very existence and that of others like her were already close to tipping me over the edge. I was so done with all of their shenanigans and the mind games.

They continued their piracy and made the Spanish pirate islands their home. The Red Captain continued as a notorious pirate who gave birth to a long tradition of the pirate family, The Ghost Pirates. They were called ghosts because in one of his forays, Red encountered a prominent mage who was making his journey to study the magic of the wild continent. He was a difficult opponent for the pirates, but as they were more, they ended up beating the peaceful travelers and the mage. Many pirates died that day, but the reward was invaluable. Red found a camouflage spell that once used the spell would be passed from parent to child. The spell was not yet complete and since Red had just slit the mag

I said. "So today is the day where you publish your newest book and it's called The Real Deal. Can you tell us briefly what it is about?" The MC asked and I smiled nodding. "Well.. I don't want to spoil anything but it's based on my own love life. I wrote this book for my boyfriend, Ares, just to thank him for everything." I said and I turned to see Ares standing beside my dad. He smiled widely at me and I turned to the audience again nervously.

The smell of rotting flesh seem to seep out of the coffin. In the end, we had to have a closed burial for him. ++++++++++ Death offers us so many tnrills and chills. And in most cases, it's not even personal experiences that drive us a bit off the edge when we hear those stories. But again, I would like to remind you that some of these stories may or not be real, but it is the absolute truth for those who shared those tales. So once again, I bid you farewell from The Supernatural Spa, dear reader. This has been your Storyteller, The Diwata, saying goodnight and we hope to see you soon. Fare thee well...

he echoed. “Now we let her dance a little longer—Let her play her little games" “Why?” Grinch asked, voice low but edged with curiosity. "She definitely has plans up her sleeves" Antonio crushed out his cigar in a crystal ashtray, “Palooka! That’s the difference between hunters and ghosts, Grinch—hunters chase, therefore making the worst mistakes when they think they've won—But ghosts? Ghosts erase.” Picking up his glass, He circled to his desk, where a file lay open—a photograph of John paper-clipped to a set of blueprints.

"You’ve cleared the site. You’ve removed the threats. Why are you still looking for ghosts?" He gripped my waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of my dress. "Because ghosts are the only things that can walk through walls, Eden. And Silas Vane is the best ghost in the business." "I haven't seen him; I doubt I'll see him while I'm indoors," I said, the lie tasting like copper in my mouth. "He’s just a name in a file to me now."

"I'll show your guest in when he arrives." "Thank you very much," I said. Cross smiled and went back to the bar. "I'm fascinated by the situation you explained on the train," Sandra said when our host had left. "But you said you had other theories, and I'm inquisitive at what they might be." "It's constantly imaginable that the stories in the media are wrong," I replied. "The waiters at the café could have mixed Tina Davis for someone else. The correspondents could be creating the stories. Or the police could be disclosing fake news. These three developments are not incredible, and they would not be unparalleled, but at the minute I see them as properly doubtful."

Willing to break the silence again, Stone cleared his throat before asking, “what the hell is even a soul harvester? That sounds so made up.“ Everest chuckled at his plain disgust, “It’s a terrifying bed time story parents of the Gareth pack would tell their kids in order to put the fear of the unknown into them. It was, still is, our version of the boggie-man*.” Stone nodded, his calculative look returned. “But how do you know it isn’t real? Most bed time stores are myths and most myths are very real.” He waved at the four of them, “most humans think we are myths.”

“Why is that your first thought? Of all the supernatural things, you jump straight to ghosts?” “Yes, ghosts!” she shot back, crossing her arms. “We live in a world where vampires, werewolves, and witches are real, Lia! Ghosts aren’t that far-fetched!” “Okay, okay, fair point,” I conceded, holding up my hands. “And don’t even pretend they’re not real,” she added quickly. “I’ve heard too many stories to believe otherwise.” “Stories, huh?” I smirked. “Let me guess, you heard about some haunted house from a ‘friend of a friend’?”

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.