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It's October, time for ghost stories
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It's October, time for ghost stories I've desided to let you all in on some of my published, short stories for the month. I hope you like them. Unpleasent Dreams HaHaHaHa HEADS UP It was typical fall weather for Pittsburgh PA and The Apple was full of people. Aah, The Apple, a quite little tavern where you go to have a nice quiet time with your friends. No load music, no bright lights, no jumping up and down dancing, just groups of people in low, sometimes enlightening conversations. This was one of those conversations I should never have listened to, or got involved in. But as I usually do I had to stop for a few minutes and listen in after delivering drinks to the five patrons at table six. They were discussing the paranormal events surrounding the long deserted Kormick estate. "That place is just a bunch of stories and urban legends to keep people out", I injected into the conversation, and turned to leave. A deep commanding male voice seamed to boom out at me as everybody else became quiet. "Stop, if you please", his lips finishing the last word as I spun around to face the table. The voice was coming from a middle aged, average looking man, with graying hair. You could see how the experiences of his years etched his face."What gives you the right to pass judgment on events you know nothing about?", he inquired of me. I spent the next few minutes telling him they are just to far fetched to be true, and that the stories sound like episodes of Tales from the Crypt, or Strange but True."I know they are true,because I don't tell lies.", he said, as he stared at me with his steel gray eyes. No one at the table said a word, and it seemed to get unusually quiet in the room. "Care to prove me wrong, you're not afraid to go to the Kormick house, are you?", He'd called my bluff, but I told him I had to close the place tonight, and couldn't be out before two o'clock. "That's quite alright, tomorrow at two p.m. will be fine, meet us at the entrance to the estate."he blurted out before I could object. How did he know I wasn't working tomorrow? I was stuck, go and prove this man wrong or be a chicken. It's not like me to confront anyone but he gives me no choice. "OK" I agreed, then left to serve the others in The Apple. The rest of my evening was plagued with thoughts of all the horror stories I'd heard about the estate. I kept telling myself to stop thinking of the stories or I'll imagine something when I get to the house, tell them about what I think I saw, and become another story to list. At least I'll become part of the legend. No, I hate to do it but, I'm going to show them all, it's just a bunch of stories, I thought. When I pulled up to the end of the drive-way, I saw four of the people at the table already standing there, including him. As I walked closer to the group, he stepped forward and stuck out his fisted hand to me. I stuck my hand out, palm up, and he dropped a single key into it. Not a word was spoken by anybody there, especially him. He turned and gestured his arm out as to welcome me to walk up the driveway and into the house. It was much to late to back out now, so off I walked up the driveway and onto the steps leading to the front door. I turned around to take one more look at the four of them only about a hundred feet away. All four of them were still there but their facial features were gone. It was like they had no nose, mouth, or eyes, blank faces, all four of them. I blinked and turned around to insert the key. My hand was already shaking as I turned the key, turned the door knob and pushed on the door. See, the door didn't swing open on it's own, making a creaking sound as it did, all's good, and I stepped through. I could see the kitchen at the back of the house, through the long hall running down the length of the house, at it's center. there had to be an inch of dust covering everything, including the floor. If they came in to try and scare me I'll see their footprints. As I passed the living room I noticed a beautiful mirror above the fireplace. I was a good twenty feet from it, but saw the images of several people dressed fancy, and having a good time. Then suddenly they all seemed to be looking at me and raised their drinks as if to toast me. SHIT! I rubbed my eyes and looked again, they were gone. I slowly crossed the room and wiped the dust from the mirror, seeing no one in the reflection but me. See just a bunch of shadows and my imagination. I stepped back into the long hall, and headed toward the kitchen. I got to the kitchen without seeing any ghosts or hearing anything. As I looked across the room I saw a butchers cleaver sitting on the counter. I didn't think much of it at first, but as I picked it up, thinking, this would prove to them I was very in the house. Then the thought hit me, DAMN, there's no dust on the cleaver. I glanced around expecting to see footprints, but there were none. Then I heard what sounded like a chopping sound coming from the room above me. I looked up and watched as dust fell from the light fixture. This has got to be one of them upstairs, trying to make me afraid, but well I looked back down at the meat cleaver, it had blood on it. Nice trick, I thought as I walked to the bottom of the staircase. All the time listening to the chopping sound, until it stopped, just as I stepped on the bottom step to go upstairs to see who was up there. But before I could, footsteps came down the second floor hallway. I watched as a heavy set man in overalls walked across the the top of the hall that was open above the stairs. He was crying as he carried a medium size box in his hands. He must have been covered with dust, because he looked like he was all one color gray. That was until he passed a light fixture and I could see it right thru him. Before it registered in my brain, that he was a real ghost, he got to the top step and seemed to see me. It surprised him, and he lost his grip on the box, dropping it on the steps. The box hit the edge of the step and burst open, spilling it's contents cascading down, bouncing as it went. It's just a long haired wig on a mannequin head, cool. This was my thought until the head stopped at the bottom of the stairs face up. The eyes blinked at me, and the mouth moved, and said, "HELP ME". I dropped the cleaver and bolted out the door. I ran down the driveway as fast as I could, looking for the man who tricked me into going into the house. He was nowhere to be found, and neither were the other three. No people, no cars they came in, just me. I looked back toward the house, and watched the door shut by itself. I never saw any of the four people who lead me on this adventure again. I never butted into a conversation again. To my amazement good sex is good sex. it doesn't matter where it comes from.[/COLOR |
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Wow! Great story. I loved it.
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There was supposed to be a link to that article; Adult Dating zone wiped it out.  Sorry about that.
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Aol News just posted an article about two ghosts having sex in Euclid, OH, so this could be possible.  http://Adult Dating zone.com
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10/26/2011 4:10 pm |
Like what you write.
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Oh my sweet sweet Juliet, it was magnificant. I did read it to my daughter she is addicted to paranormal stories, cause daddy does real magick she says haha. She loved it as well and ask if I can take her there and show her how to draw in ghost for magick. I just smiled thats my girl. But anyway it was really good and Serina, thank you. your amazing, beautiful, and very brilliant. If only fate was kinder to me our paths may cross.~W~ Stars upon Stars..
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A TRUE Ghost story! Or do you have a wonderful amagination, who really knows?? Very Cool tho. Serina I would love to be in your head!?.
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10/10/2011 7:42 am |
Haha, that was a good scary story
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Very good !   ~  ~
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10/9/2011 7:13 am |
Hey there Serina, that was great for a starter story. Can you add any more to this -- maybe like a revisit or two, maybe later on..?? That part about thee meat cleaver with no dust on it & no foot prints around it was superb/outstanding for the stort...
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It was between Bridgeville and Cannonsburg. At least that's where the real estate was. The story is semi-biographical. It's inspired by my firt ghost hunt. The begining is real and some wierd things happened. The team didn't leave me, and there wasn't really a head rolling down the stairs. But I'm glad you liked it. good sex is good sex. it doesn't matter where it comes from.[/COLOR
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