The Castle

It was a beautiful castle. At least, it was when I lived in it. Now it’s slowly falling apart. The stones that are holding it together are beginning to crumble and there were cobwebs everywhere from decades of being unmaintained. I once ruled the castle as its queen, but now I wander the abandoned halls as its ghost.

I should have seen it coming. You’d think that someone of my stature would know when my subjects would plan a coup to overthrow me and take the throne for themselves. I suppose I was too blind to see it. That’s what I get for placing too much trust in the people around me, thinking that they will never betray me. Some queen I turned out to be.

“Dinner is served, Majesty,” the butler said, bowing deeply in respect to my status as queen. “Thank you, Garvis, I shall be there shortly,” I said with a curt nod, signalling that he is dismissed for the night. Garvis bowed once again before taking his leave, most likely heading to the servant’s quarters for a light meal and a nightcap. I rose from my throne and made my way to the dining hall where a large feast awaits me. Granted, I don’t eat as much as Henry VIII, but my cook still outdoes himself every single time. A manservant came rushing forward, pulling out the chair at the end of the table as I approached. Giving him a small smile in thanks, I sat down and placed the napkin on my lap before I began to dine.

I was about halfway through my meal when I felt a sense of uneasiness come over me. Before I could call out for help, I slumped over in my chair with half of my face in the plate in front of me. I died that night and my remains were put into a wooden chest and tied up with heavy chains. The chest was then brought into the woods near the castle and thrown into the large pond. 

Days after they had disposed of me, everyone at the castle started to experience strange happenings. Some thought that they saw doors closing on their own and others thought that I had returned from the dead to seek revenge on those that had dared to assassinate the queen. Pretty soon, all of them were driven mad and they all fled the castle, not willing to stay here any longer than they had to. I appeared from one of the walls as the last of the staff left, a satisfied smirk on my spectral face. I may be a ghost, but they should know better than to mess with the queen.

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The Stare

He would always stare at the same house every time we walk past it. It was as if he’s waiting for someone inside to acknowledge his presence. Questions of confusion always seem to arise as I walked behind him. Why is he staring? What motive does he have by doing this? Would those that live in the house think that he’s a stalker waiting for the right moment to strike? Is there something special about that particular house that intrigues him? Or is he simply staring at it out of pure want or desire? If that’s true, then it’s the weirdest desire I have ever seen and I know desire. I’m friends with the Devil after all.

One afternoon, I decided to take a stroll around the neighbourhood sans powers. As I turned the corner, I saw him walking ahead, his head turned as he stared intently at the house. When he disappeared from sight, I made my way toward the house, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery. The house doesn’t look like much, with it’s faded yellow paint and a roof covered with moss. The yard was covered with weed and wildflowers, and some small shrubs along the edge. Raising a befuddled eyebrow, I once again attempted to deduce the reason why the mystery person takes pleasure in staring at the structure every time he passes by. Changing back to my normal self, I let my curiosity take charge, leading me toward the residence.

I raised a hand to knock on the white, wooden door. A shave and a haircut. I then waited for a few minutes, thinking that whoever’s inside will come to answer the door. After a short while, I remained standing outside, my Pegasus wings outstretched behind me. Coming to the conclusion that no one is home, I turned on my heel and walked back along the narrow pathway toward the sidewalk. Just as I was about to step on the sidewalk, the door of the house opened, and an elderly woman stepped out onto the porch. She appeared hagged and her clothes were starting to fall apart at the seams. The only striking feature about her is her light blue eyes that appeared unseeing.

“Hello,” I said, turning around to face the woman. “My name is Asanashia Renoir, I live around here.” The woman looked me up and down and said in a gravelly voice, “What’s a girl like you doing in this part of the neighbourhood?” Feeling like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar, I explained to the woman that I’ve seen a strange man walk past her house and he would often stare at it as he was walking past.

“Oh, him,” the woman said with a hint of recognition. “He’s my son. Though it’s odd that you would see him.” At her words, my mind became more confused than it ever had. “What do you mean?” I asked. The old woman then said, “My son has passed away for many years, I guess that he missed me and wants to come home but can’t because the dead cannot interact with the living.” My eyes widened as I absorbed her words. I saw a fucking ghost.

Behind the Wheel

He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. That the late hours that he had been pulling at work had finally caught up to him. The woman standing at the edge of the sidewalk was wearing a beautiful light pink sundress and her hair was blowing in the late afternoon wind. He couldn’t see her face as it was hidden underneath her straw hat but he is sure that she is a sight to behold. Snapping out of his reverie, he stopped beside the woman and asked if she needed a ride anywhere.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” she said. “Thank you, kind sir, for helping a lady in need.” A surge of pride rose from within him as he gave the woman a charming smile. “Anything for a pretty lady.” He said before unlocking the passenger side door for her. The woman gracefully got into the car and buckled her seatbelt. He then pulled out from the curb and after driving a few blocks, he turned to the woman beside him. “So where are you headed?” Silence met his inquiry as the woman stared straight ahead. Figuring he’ll try again later, he continued to drive until he was outside city limits. When he turned to ask the woman where he should drop her off, he stomped on the brake so hard, he lurched forward. The lady was gone and he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out where she went.

Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared in front of his car, only this time, her straw hat had disappeared. Staring at him is a slim, hourglass-figured woman with flowing dark brown hair and half of her face was badly burnt. His eyes went as wide as saucers, his hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. The woman smiled beautifully at him, well, with as much beauty as a woman with half a face could, in gratitude. He could have sworn he heard her whisper “Thank you” before fading into the wind, leaving him in the middle of the empty highway. A few minutes went by before he managed to pull himself together. Making a U-Turn, he drove straight back into the city with one destination in mind: a bar filled with alcohol.

A Ghostly Warning

In an old, rundown apartment somewhere in Hell’s Kitchen, a tall, muscular young man with a luscious head of hair laid on a large king-sized bed in nothing but his white and navy striped boxers. The sun had long since set but the night did not bring him the much-needed relief from the scorching heat. He tossed and turned on the bed, kicking his blanket as he did so, attempting to cool himself down.

There’s truly no rest for the wicked. He mused, opening his eyes as sleep continued to elude him. Good thing the whole thing is planned down to a T so I should be good to go come morning. He thought as he flipped onto his side, closing his eyes to try and get whatever rest he could. Suddenly, he heard a faint voice calling his name.

“Boothe, don’t go on that job tomorrow. Please, I’m begging you.” The voice said. Boothe’s eyes then shot open as he sat up, seeing a transparent figure at the foot of the bed. The figure looked like one of the Hogwarts Ghosts from Harry Potter. Only instead of a floating spectre that offers you words of wisdom or confusion, this ghost used to be a member of the gang that Boothe himself is a member of but ended up paying the ultimate price when he was caught red-handed snitching to the authorities as a CI.

A moment of silence fell upon the two before Boothe decided to break it. “Why are you here, Hardie? Why are you telling me to not go on that job tomorrow with the boys?” Hardie sighed as he said, “I don’t want you to end up like me. You’re a good guy with great potential. I know that the gang has been a part of your life ever since the boss took you under his wing all those years ago, but after enduring my own personal Hell, I figured that I should start redeeming myself for what I have done. You just happen to be the first thing on my To-Do list.” Boothe’s mouth formed a thin line while an annoyed breath escaped from his nostrils.

“Redemption? You betray the gang and ended up in a place where you deserve and now you’re here talking to me about turning over a new leaf?” Boothe accused, his anger rising. Hardie said nothing except repeating his earlier plea that Boothe should not go on the planned heist tomorrow. “If you do, you’ll end up in the same place I am,” The damned spirit warned. “Trust me, you do not want to be stuck there for eternity.” Hardie then faded into the night, leaving Boothe to his devices. The latter then plopped back down on the mattress, his mind desperately searching for answers. Answers to whether or not he should heed the ghostly warning.

Ghost Run

I wasn’t supposed to see him, but there he was, staring at me from inside what seems to be an abandoned house. I don’t believe in ghosts or in the supernatural for that matter, so the fact that I can see one is a complete shock to me. My brain is telling me to run away as far as my legs can carry me. Though my curiosity kicked in and I found myself walking toward the house.

I knocked on the faded wood of the door, and it creaked open, revealing an empty living room covered with cobwebs. He stood before me, silent as a statue. “Why were you watching me?” I asked, my voice shaking with fear. The ghost said nothing, his empty eyes bore into mine. “Can you even talk?” I pressed, taking a step forward. Still no response. “Fine, if you ain’t going to talk, I’m bloody leaving!” I said, throwing my arms up in frustration.

“Wait!” A floaty voice said as I was about to cross over the threshold. Now he starts talking. I thought, mentally rolling my eyes. I turned around to face the ghost and crossed my arms, waiting for him to continue. “I apologize for watching you, it wasn’t intentional.” He began. “Not intentional?” I replied incredulously. “You were looking out through the window like some creepy old man! What was I supposed to think?!” I exclaimed.

The ghost bowed his head in shame. “My deepest apologies.” He said quietly. “I have been trapped here on this earthly plane for quite some time, and I’ve never gotten the chance to truly cross over.” My eyebrows shot up at his words. “So are you like a real world version of  The Haunted Mansion?” I asked. The ghost cocked his head to one side and said, “I don’t know this ‘haunted mansion’ that you’re speaking of. Is this place real? Are there other ghosts like me?” He inquired.

Wow. Someone needs to get a television in here STAT! I thought, shaking my head in disbelief. “If you’re trapped here, how can you get out? Do you have to break some sort of curse or something?” The ghost merely shrugged, saying that he doesn’t know how. “Will you help me?” He asked. I hesitated. I have a marathon to train for! I don’t have time to help a ghost cross over to the other side! Then again, I won’t be stared at anymore. I thought. “Okay, I’ll help you.”

The Bus Stop

There is a bus stop not too far from here. It may look like an ordinary bus stop, but mysterious things have been happening at this particular stop. Be warned, if you board the bus that comes to this stop, make sure you get off as soon as possible. If you don’t, then you can kiss your life on Earth goodbye.

A little boy was walking home from school one day when he suddenly decided to take the bus. He saw a bus stop up ahead, and he all but ran up to it and stood beside it to wait for the transportation vehicle. Minutes turned into hours, and the sky was beginning to darken.

“Where is that bus?” The boy muttered as he leaned forward, trying to see if the bus is coming. Suddenly, two bright headlights appeared, and a large, dark gray bus pulled up to the stop. The doors opened to let the boy board, but everything was eerily dark.  He cautiously ascended the steps onto the bus and saw that there were no other passengers. Making a mental note to get off at the next stop, the boy found a seat near the window in the middle of the bus.

After enduring a bumpy ride, the boy got off at the next stop, walking the rest of the way home. When he arrived, his mother asked why he was so late coming home from school. “I decided to wait for the bus.” The boy said. His mother’s eyes went wide and asked her son which bus he took. The boy then described the bus to her and suddenly found himself enveloped in her arms. “Oh, I’m so glad that you weren’t taken!” She exclaimed.

Confused, the boy asked his mother why she said she’s glad he wasn’t taken. The mother wiped away her tears on her apron and told her son the story of a bus that takes people from the world of the living to that of the dead. “The bus comes every night at sunset to pick up passengers. Though once you get on board, there is no getting off unless you have your wits about you and get off at the next stop.” Astounded and shocked, the boy burrowed deeper into his mother’s embrace and said, “I am never taking the bus ever again.”

Ghost Story

She held on tight to the flashlight in her hands as it lit her way along the dark hallway, despite the sheen of sweat that had formed. Determination trumped fear as she edged closer and closer to the bedroom upstairs. I will get to see him tonight. I must! She thought as she put her hand on the door handle, opening the door.

She peeked into the room, the furniture covered with white sheets. The only source of light was the moonlight coming in from the windows. Straining her eyes, she scanned the room, looking for signs of the spirit. Suddenly, she felt a cold breeze brush past her. She turned around, shining her flashlight at the source, but was met with emptiness. “Where are you?!” She called out. “Show yourself!” She demanded.

The cold breeze then returned. This time, it turned into a strong wind, blowing the white sheets off of the furniture. Sheets of cloth floated in the air as if they were giant snowflakes, gracefully gliding toward the dusty wooden floor. A form materialized in front of her, like a figure emerging from the fog. She held her breath, watching the scene before her, fear gluing her feet in place.

“What is it you want of me?” A deep, disembodied British voice said. “I am a ghost hunter, Spirit. Though I do not actually capture them. I only wish to understand more about the supernatural.” She replied, her voice shaky. “Ghost hunter, hmm? You certainly don’t look like one.” The spirit said. The ghost hunter felt a bit miffed by the spirit’s condescending comment but held her tongue. One does not pick fights with a ghost. They can get to you when you least expect it. She mentally reasoned. “So what can I do for you, Ghost Hunter?” The spirit asked. Taking a breath to gather her courage, the ghost hunter said, “I want you to tell me your story.”