Ghost Stories - The Wishing Well

Be careful what you wish....

Danny looked down at the ripples skimming over the top of the large wishing well in which he'd just tossed in a slug.

 It wasn't that he didn't have a penny, or a nickel, a dime or quarter - it's just that wishing  wells were a bunch of crock.

Betty, his fiance of 13 years, wasn't too thrilled over his display, either. She had been chastising him for the last five minutes and he was getting tired of her mouth.

"Betty!  Shut your trap!" Danny finally blurted out, his patience spended. "It's not like anyone ever gets a wish granted by tossing a coin into well. It's - it's all a child's game." He paused, then tacked on, "And I did toss a coin into the well, Betty."

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The Crying Veil - Anna's eyes widened in terror as the wedding veil she had situated on her head was suddenly covered with blood - drops of blood.  She detected crying, pitiful crying as if someone in her head were in agony.... Click to Read  

The Lace Curtain - The graveyard lay in the misted distance.  Kayla fingered the dingy lace curtain with high anticipation of catching a glimpse of the apparition that had appeared nightly for the last thirty days.  It had began on the first of the month.  This month.  This unusually hot and blustery October month.  Click to Read  

Poisoned Ivy - The moaning grew louder, emitting eerily from the forest walls.  Ti wasn't so certain anymore that the noise was the sound of lovers, as the area was a cove for kindling romance.  Had he not known better, he would have sworn the sound was the sound of a ghost! Click to Read

The Haunted House - "Over here, I tell you!  The coffin is over here!"

Mona rolled her eyes up at Frank. Idiot. He was acting if he'd found the secret entrance in the wall rather than her. She had a good mind to turn back and let Frank stand his chances of being sacrificed by the coven of she-male vampires that inhabited the dungeon of the castle. . . .  Click to Read  

Widow Maker - The city lay shrouded in the distance, looming like a fragile virgin clothed in white. The year was 2785.

 

Vincent’s keen eyesight cut through the fog, singeing over the towering steel buildings like a guided laser.  He was searching for something lost, something that he would probably never reclaim.  Click to Read  

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