Post your ghost stories here in the comments. As you post, respond to at least one other student’s story, noting something you liked, something you were surprised by, and something you had questions about—potentially a place for improvement.
This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.
This House Is Not The House I Own
The house is cold and quiet
The house is not empty even when I am not inside
The house is grilling me in my own personal space
The house is filled with someone
The house moves when I move
The house has walls that tear apart
The house has a kitchen that is always making noise when I am not cooking
The house has a leaky faucet after I called someone to fix it
The house has heaters that make noises in the hot Summer time
The house has indoor air conditioning that turns on in the Winter time
The house reeks of death after I clean the floor with lysol
The house is lit up at night time after I fall asleep
The house is filled with someone
The house belongs to something, not someone
The house has a character, a personality with traits
The house is either mad, sad, or intense
The house is not my house at all
This house is their house
This house is the past that continues to haunt the present and the future
This house is forever in my past as I move along.
Omar,
I really like this! I see echoes of the piece that you wrote during the free write in class, if I remember correctly. The repetition really works well!
I’m wondering what the ending would look like if it were changed, or expanded to something more specific. Who is “they”? Why are they in the past? What are their wants, needs, desires?
A revision strategy that I use a lot is to keep writing, keep adding on, until I reach an idea that surprises me. Then, I edit down, keep the surprising part and as little else as i can. It changes the piece in some interesting ways!
-ZL
My mother was alone at the time. It was a moving day, and she had been packing up boxes that she’d eventually be taking from that old apartment to our new one. My sister and I must’ve been babysat by a close relative elsewhere. It was her job to get everything situated.
She said the lights were off – save for a series of candles. Candles that she had lit due to having switched the Con Ed over to the new place.
Her bed was still there. She wouldn’t take it.
But, as she lingered within her bedroom, a peculiar sight greeted her eyes. It was her daughter, my baby sister. Falicia had been but a measly six months at the time of her passing. It was health related, as I’m sure is usually the case that young. Regardless, her little body was clear as day to my mom. She was dressed in all white, in the miniature dress that she had been buried in, her small body being engaged in a brisk walk from the short hallway to the bathroom.
At the time of the story, I had intervened to ask a rather silly question. Something along the lines of ‘did she have feet’? My mother answered seriously, rewinding her recollection back to that exact moment to give me an accurate answer. As it were, the dress was too long to tell. And I let her continue.
Due to the direction of the hallway and bathroom, she only saw half of her face. Yes, it was her face. Not anything like some kind of monster’s.
But, that’s not meant to be the eerie part anyway. The context is.
According to my mom, Falicia had never liked the bathroom in all the time of her life. Sure, she would be bathed and cleaned, but she’d never willingly go in there. She hated it. She’d cry.
And so after seeing this – this incident almost as short-lived as Falicia, herself, had been, she took a moment to sit on the bed, and really reflect on what had just occurred.
Emani,
This is incredible!! It’s eerie, well-written, and stuck with me after I read it.
I’m wondering if the ending could be clarified a bit more, though! What did Falicia’s ghost going into the bathroom MEAN? was it it a different ghost after all? Did Falicia change, after death?
I really like your impulse to keep the story ambiguous—but I think a little more clarity here would improve this even more!
ZL
A Bed I Cannot Sleep On
Sigh
I can’t sleep, again
Sitting up in my bed staring at the corner
How annoying, would you please let me sleep?
I see you over there, hovering behind the radiator
Every single night without fail
You cannot hide from me
You can keep pretending you are not there even though you are
Because, you see, I have this power
Where although nobody else can see you, I definitely can
Your pale face and dirty clothes
Your scars and marks you cannot hide
You make the room so cold that not even a blanket can cover it up
Sitting here, shivering my ass off
You could mistake it for fear but it is actually so cold
You scared me at one point, I admit, but I’ve gotten so used to your ugly face that it doesn’t bother me anymore
Haunt me if you would like, demon
But whatever you do, do not dare lay a finger on anyone I love
Stay in my room if you have to
That would be so vile of you, to harm those who cannot even fathom your existence
Damn, I could use an exorcist
Now let me sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow night anyway
I can’t sleep
Here we go again
I realize, though
Maybe you aren’t so bad
You are here, even when I don’t want you to be
But at least you’re here
It’s not like you do anything to me
You could haunt me, torment me, kill me if you want to
But you don’t
Why?
You just stare at me, like I stare at you
What if you’re misunderstood?
What if you’re just looking for someone to be there, just as I am?
I lean closer and, hey, you kind of look like-
Maybe…
You are
I still can’t fucking sleep, though
I really enjoyed your story, but I am interested to know; how come the ghost has dirty clothes and scars. Did it suffer a terrible death, and that is why its tormenting others ?
Kharla,
I also liked this a lot, and have a similar question as Lemesis below! What’s the significance of the ghost’s clothes!
I was wondering about this, too: “I lean closer and, hey, you kind of look like-
Maybe…
You are.”
Who is the ghost? It seems to be someone the speaker knows. Who are they? Why do they look so bad?
What’s the relationship here?
I really like this, but would love a little more specifics! How else does the speaker change between the first and second parts?
ZL
Kharla, I liked how you were very descriptive in displaying the ghost. Furthermore, in presenting the ghost you mention aspects like feeling cold, and shivering which is significant in portraying the ghost. It was also interesting to see how the beginning was different than the end in which you mention that maybe the ghost must have been misunderstood. However, it would also be interesting to know more about the ghost and what occurred. Is it significant that the ghost is hovering over the radiator, does it relate to the past?
I loved you poem. Very playful ! It honestly something I feel a lot too often in night when I’m alone or when I’m lying ready for bed !
I really like this. However I just wanna know who does the ghost look like???? There’s no clue. Lol is it yourself?
A l̶o̶v̶e̶ Ghost Story
You shouldn’t have fallen in love with a dead girl
Someone who only knows how to love as a ghost.
This is killing you,
But you’re ignoring the warning signs –
Insisting it’s just the wind.
But no matter how many candles you light,
Or prayers you recite
I will always be more gone
than I am there.
I’m forever walking through your walls,
Haunting your nights,
Always just out of reach,
Your peripheral view lover
that you can’t let go.
You’re still clutching my skeleton
calling it a relationship,
But instead you should be burning my bones.
Can’t you see?
We’re trapped reliving happier lives.
I wish I could feel more than echoes,
I wish I could love you as more than a memory,
I wish I could feel me feeling you.
But I can’t, and I’m sorry..
When I said I would stay,
I only meant that I don’t know how to leave you as yet.
We decided to gather together once again like every year, during the day preparing the food, wrapping the gifts, and looking for an outfit to wear for all the family pictures. This year we had decided to celebrate it at our cousin’s house. It was not like every other year, but I forced myself not to think about it and tried anything possible to keep myself distracted. Every time it came to mind, I found something to do because that thought terrified me. I chose to wear an elegant red dress with a pair of black heels and because it was really cold, my long black coat I was gifted for my birthday.
It was getting late, everyone else left earlier to help set up the dinner table therefore, I rushed myself and drove off to the gathering. I knew I should have left the house earlier, now I was stuck in traffic; half an hour had passed by and suddenly I turned my head to see what had been going on but in doing so I saw a handprint. I ignored it and tried not to think anything of it because I did not want it to be one of those nights again. Finally, I made it to the house, greeted all my aunt’s, uncle’s, cousin’s and close family friends. We had dinner and waited until midnight to give and receive our gifts.
Patiently waiting, I walked over to your room where we gathered every year to have a conversation about life and other things that had been going on. I realized that the room was still organized the way you had left it when you left a few months ago, nothing had changed. I had a feeling you were there with me as I started to feel different, it was the same feeling I felt the previous nights. Confused, I looked around not knowing what could occur and there you were once again sitting in that same exact corner with the same clothes from the night you left all of us. As I saw, you continued to have the same wounds. Why did you leave that Thursday night, not telling anyone of us where you were going? You still have so much to tell me, and I have so much to tell you, things that I will not tell anybody else. I felt so much comfort in our conversations and you just left me without even telling me where you were going. You make me feel the same way every night, confused, upset, and angry. You follow me everywhere, but you always leave me. Why? Why do you leave me knowing how important you have become in my life? You were one of the few that did not judge anything I did and told you. You supported me in any way you could and so did I, but you left. Will you ever come back? Or will I have to live with this feeling for the next upcoming years?
Ghost Journey
The ghost is stranded in the thriving desert.
The ghost is trying to find asphalt paths.
The ghost climbing over dunes, sweaty with effort.
The ghost is lost but it never looks back.
The ghost finds water in spiky poles.
The ghost seeks comfort in the burning sand.
The ghost prays for stars when the moon shines alone.
The ghost is lost but it never looks back.
The ghost looks for home every day
but the farther it’s gone the more it’s astray.
The ghost sits in scorching contentment.
The ghost is thriving in what is now its home.
A shadow truly undercover
When I past you,
I feel you.
When I’m alone in my room,
I hear you.
When I’m six feet away,
I glimpse you around the corner of eye.
But I cannot see you.
I cannot touch you.
I cannot communicate with you.
But I know that you are there.
I can feel that you are cold.
I can sense that you want to play.
I can sense that you have something to say.
are there more just like you?
Or even around you ?
Is there a way,
That you can just say.
That‘s silly of me.
For if you can,
I know you will.
Show yourself.
If only it were that simple.
Is this how you feel ?
As frustrated as me ?
Can you even feel ?
Is something we often wonder.
Am I going crazy ?
That I feel connected to you.
But if I entertain it,
Will it surrender ?
Or will it be a facade
Once it reveals
It’s true,
inner color.
A shadow truly undercover
My Ghost Is Not A Ghost
I need him to leave me alone
He’s stalking me and keeps lurking through my phone
He installed spyware on my phone he refuses to let me go
I’m just a kid I’ve even had a boyfriend before him
I’ve never even kissed a boy
He knew this and continues to play with me like his little toy
I don’t care for his clout or his name, the girls in his phone a bunch of celebrity plains
That’s not what I’m about
And I’m deserving of better this relationship does not bring me joy
I try to escape him but it’s like my mind is his home
My ghost is not a ghost
He’s alive, well and continues to boost
Still haunting me
I’ve asked him to stop but he continues to taunt me
It went too far so I resorted to social media blocking
I’ve tried to be patient but it’s not stopping
Watching and Waiting
Noel laid comfortably in the crook of her boyfriend’s arm. She lay nestled under their warm Sherpa blanket listening to the sound of his soft snores. She’d woken up from a dream but didn’t open her eyes. This happened a lot recently. She’d be sound asleep in bed and suddenly she’d be awake. When she was a child, she had faint memories of seeing tall shadows in the dark corners of her room, she’d yell for her mom, make her turn on all of the lights and double check for monsters. Noel always felt strangely accompanied when she was alone, so she hated being by herself. When she was physically with someone at least the feeling of not being alone was normal but when she was alone, she felt a looming presence she could never shake. Tonight however, she was with Ron and when she woke up, she figured he was simply fidgeting in his sleep, or let out a snore much too loud. No need to open her eyes.
She should have.
If she did, she would have seen the tall thin figure looming over the foot of their bed. A lanky silhouette in a trench coat that didn’t hit the floor. It hung in the air, slightly bent over, the inky coat almost looked as if there was a black hole in the middle of the room. Half hidden in the collar of the coat was a gleaming grin of jagged teeth that stretched too wide from ear to ear. Its large wicked milky white eyes fixated down at the couple lying in their bed. It smiled an even wider toothy grin as it watched Noel sink back into her slumber and flexed its long claws at its side. The sound that woke her before was the sound of a low growl that emitted from the hovering figure. It spoke one word in the silent night as it watched her sleep.
“Soon”.