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Ghost Stories
The_Silly_Sibyl
Jack Thomas
Forum Posts: 687
Jack Thomas
Fire of Insight
2
Joined 30th July 2015Forum Posts: 687
Poetry Contest Description
Write a ghost story in either prose or poetry
I like ghost stories. The ghost story is an important genre which I think is often overlooked. It’s entertaining, but also helps us process our feelings about fear, grief, mortality, etc.
For this competition, write either a poem or a short story in the genre. Brevity preferred. Make sure that your entry is no longer than 3,000 words. Some other general pointers:
- a ghost story doesn’t have to be scary. It can be funny, moving, romantic, whatever
- ghost stories are generally set either in the present day or the past, though by all means try a sci-fi ghost story if one occurs to you!
- darkness and malevolence are fine (encouraged, even) if you’re going for horror, but the best ghost stories are all about atmosphere. As the author of The Woman in Black said, less is more
- you don’t have to believe in ghosts to write a good ghost story; you just have to have a feel for the strange and mysterious. To quote Roald Dahl, the best ghost stories don’t have ghosts in them (though feel free to interpret that how you wish)
Some hard rules:
- no rape, torture, or bigotry, except as subtle allusions (nothing overt and graphic)
- no hardcore erotica
- basically, if you want to write about hardcore sex and violence or express some extreme political view, this isn’t the competition for you
I hope you have a go, and have fun!
Some popular stories for if you need some inspiration:
- https://youtu.be/PT1qJ5rw2iE
- https://youtu.be/zOVCoNv-O6U
- https://youtu.be/b27fespDDKk
- https://youtu.be/MlvEJ3SWTgs
For this competition, write either a poem or a short story in the genre. Brevity preferred. Make sure that your entry is no longer than 3,000 words. Some other general pointers:
- a ghost story doesn’t have to be scary. It can be funny, moving, romantic, whatever
- ghost stories are generally set either in the present day or the past, though by all means try a sci-fi ghost story if one occurs to you!
- darkness and malevolence are fine (encouraged, even) if you’re going for horror, but the best ghost stories are all about atmosphere. As the author of The Woman in Black said, less is more
- you don’t have to believe in ghosts to write a good ghost story; you just have to have a feel for the strange and mysterious. To quote Roald Dahl, the best ghost stories don’t have ghosts in them (though feel free to interpret that how you wish)
Some hard rules:
- no rape, torture, or bigotry, except as subtle allusions (nothing overt and graphic)
- no hardcore erotica
- basically, if you want to write about hardcore sex and violence or express some extreme political view, this isn’t the competition for you
I hope you have a go, and have fun!
Some popular stories for if you need some inspiration:
- https://youtu.be/PT1qJ5rw2iE
- https://youtu.be/zOVCoNv-O6U
- https://youtu.be/b27fespDDKk
- https://youtu.be/MlvEJ3SWTgs
The Omen, The Vatic, The Ghost
never much for roaming halls,
they prefer the attic
scratching paint from cluttered walls,
the Omen and the Vatic
missteps are his haunting ground,
Omen weaves connections;
adding in the likelihood,
skewing my reflection
specter of the future bright,
the Vatic reads my cards;
saying I will cut myself,
then handing me the shards
bringing with them fearful doubt,
the future yet unclear;
‘round the bend is farther still,
the scale beyond quite sheer
self-fulfilling prophecies,
the past binds them to this post;
they will haunt me ‘til I die,
yet I’m the only ghost
they prefer the attic
scratching paint from cluttered walls,
the Omen and the Vatic
missteps are his haunting ground,
Omen weaves connections;
adding in the likelihood,
skewing my reflection
specter of the future bright,
the Vatic reads my cards;
saying I will cut myself,
then handing me the shards
bringing with them fearful doubt,
the future yet unclear;
‘round the bend is farther still,
the scale beyond quite sheer
self-fulfilling prophecies,
the past binds them to this post;
they will haunt me ‘til I die,
yet I’m the only ghost
Written by LunaGreyhawk
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Razzerleaf
Forum Posts: 525
Fire of Insight
27
Joined 15th Sep 2019 Forum Posts: 525
Dark Dust
She hung with the smell of dry earth,
twisted in amongst forms of herself,
scratching black in the darkness
with long bloodied finger nails.
she mouthed each cry to give it form
but only found the guttural sounds of mourners.
The young couple wanted to remodel the cottage,
make it more open plan, party friendly.
The architect said the wall wasn’t structural,
so they played builder.
He should have stopped when he found the first cavity,
the lock of hair wrapped around three small bones.
With every thud of the lump hammer
her body snapped back into position.
Splintered light seemed to paste flesh
over wasted muscle and decayed sinews.
The couple could only see the macabre,
they missed the escaping spiral of dust
that seemed to move slowly in the sunlight.
Angry and cold, absorbing
any source of heat to feed the blackness
that seethed inside her.
She entered her old room
but everything had changed,
lemon drapes and fresh pale wood
decorated with a woodland mural.
Her face contorted into a hideous grin,
She had always wanted a baby.
twisted in amongst forms of herself,
scratching black in the darkness
with long bloodied finger nails.
she mouthed each cry to give it form
but only found the guttural sounds of mourners.
The young couple wanted to remodel the cottage,
make it more open plan, party friendly.
The architect said the wall wasn’t structural,
so they played builder.
He should have stopped when he found the first cavity,
the lock of hair wrapped around three small bones.
With every thud of the lump hammer
her body snapped back into position.
Splintered light seemed to paste flesh
over wasted muscle and decayed sinews.
The couple could only see the macabre,
they missed the escaping spiral of dust
that seemed to move slowly in the sunlight.
Angry and cold, absorbing
any source of heat to feed the blackness
that seethed inside her.
She entered her old room
but everything had changed,
lemon drapes and fresh pale wood
decorated with a woodland mural.
Her face contorted into a hideous grin,
She had always wanted a baby.
Written by Razzerleaf
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Grace
IDryad
Forum Posts: 17008
IDryad
Tyrant of Words
126
Joined 25th Aug 2011Forum Posts: 17008
The Haunting of Gilgamon
A tale of long ago
told by bards with wares
to sell
of a village far away
where they tarried
for a while
a village named Gilgamon
Unhallowed night it was
when mortals huddled
in uneasy slumber
listening to the wails
of the wind
as incantations to ancient gods
by witches to raise
their dead prince
Granted with a token
to leave the portal
of the underworld
unguarded for a sigh
through the cracks
through the door
with the prince
others follow
Thus leave this soul
a lover of a pining princess
whom in life was betrothed to him
others who joined his quest
there merged into the sky
to seek their earthly coils
that alas had rotted to the soil
they crawled on the mossy green
of the village of Gilgamon
Upon the green and fields
They were seeking warmth
In mortal coils
and around the village of Gilgamon
Lyssa visited and lay waste
on each inhabitants with two souls
that mortal husks could not contain
thus each one slowly sank
and spew out both souls
Nature claimed Gilgamon
homes and hearth stand
visited by howling wind
strewn with dead flowers
Monuments of emptiness
In a flowery glade in the woods
yet should you chance
to rest within
Sighs of sorrow
Be your lullaby.
told by bards with wares
to sell
of a village far away
where they tarried
for a while
a village named Gilgamon
Unhallowed night it was
when mortals huddled
in uneasy slumber
listening to the wails
of the wind
as incantations to ancient gods
by witches to raise
their dead prince
Granted with a token
to leave the portal
of the underworld
unguarded for a sigh
through the cracks
through the door
with the prince
others follow
Thus leave this soul
a lover of a pining princess
whom in life was betrothed to him
others who joined his quest
there merged into the sky
to seek their earthly coils
that alas had rotted to the soil
they crawled on the mossy green
of the village of Gilgamon
Upon the green and fields
They were seeking warmth
In mortal coils
and around the village of Gilgamon
Lyssa visited and lay waste
on each inhabitants with two souls
that mortal husks could not contain
thus each one slowly sank
and spew out both souls
Nature claimed Gilgamon
homes and hearth stand
visited by howling wind
strewn with dead flowers
Monuments of emptiness
In a flowery glade in the woods
yet should you chance
to rest within
Sighs of sorrow
Be your lullaby.
Written by Grace
(IDryad)
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The_Silly_Sibyl
Jack Thomas
Forum Posts: 687
Jack Thomas
Fire of Insight
2
Joined 30th July 2015Forum Posts: 687
Thanks for your entries, guys!
dejure
vick
Forum Posts: 2880
vick
Dangerous Mind
29
Joined 17th Aug 2015Forum Posts: 2880
Related submission no longer exists.
Gentle
Joined 2nd June 2020
Forum Posts: 16
Lost Thinker
Forum Posts: 16
MISS PARALYZER
The sun sank into the western sky.
And the night rose from the eastern sky.
Boots were hung behind the tall, dark screen.
But in fear, I was prepared to scream.
She was black, shadowy, and fuzzy.
Her face, as usual, was too hazy.
She squatted still on my middle chest.
And all my breath left all of my chest.
I was dead and was sensing all things.
Hard I screamed to awaken all things.
Heared by none I wanted to wake up.
Thus, I tried until my strength dried up.
Her pair of claws were holding my throat.
My spirit above the bed did float.
The evils come when the dark night comes.
Soon the night comes, and soon evil comes.
And the night rose from the eastern sky.
Boots were hung behind the tall, dark screen.
But in fear, I was prepared to scream.
She was black, shadowy, and fuzzy.
Her face, as usual, was too hazy.
She squatted still on my middle chest.
And all my breath left all of my chest.
I was dead and was sensing all things.
Hard I screamed to awaken all things.
Heared by none I wanted to wake up.
Thus, I tried until my strength dried up.
Her pair of claws were holding my throat.
My spirit above the bed did float.
The evils come when the dark night comes.
Soon the night comes, and soon evil comes.
Written by Gentle
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Numer90
Numer0-un0
Forum Posts: 85
Numer0-un0
Thought Provoker
4
Joined 12th Dec 2020 Forum Posts: 85
Monsters: Ep. 1 The Incubus
So dark and cold through the night..
Awake and bold by the bed lamp side, she might..
Have been continuously reading an omnibus..
So hard keeping up with the effects of her hypothalamus..
Desperately trying to stay awake shaking the beads in her abacus..
Praying anxiously for the next daylight and thus the abilities..
To neutralize herself made noise gonna induce in her trance tinnitus..
Thousandth victim of the night from Minneapolis to Indianapolis..
Take the risk and go to sleep the incubus is here to alter in your dreams..
Awake and bold by the bed lamp side, she might..
Have been continuously reading an omnibus..
So hard keeping up with the effects of her hypothalamus..
Desperately trying to stay awake shaking the beads in her abacus..
Praying anxiously for the next daylight and thus the abilities..
To neutralize herself made noise gonna induce in her trance tinnitus..
Thousandth victim of the night from Minneapolis to Indianapolis..
Take the risk and go to sleep the incubus is here to alter in your dreams..
Written by Numer90
(Numer0-un0)
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slipalong
Forum Posts: 855
Dangerous Mind
43
Joined 1st Jan 2018Forum Posts: 855
With haunting grief
In the void of your concern
you hear the steps to make you turn
a chill of air
a waft that someone's spirit stirred
Relationship still tied with intangible belief
a leash, seek freedom from the wanton
regrets, sign the love letters. final kiss
the grey, that gavel in an empty auction
When love was held by puppet strings
preciousness of one that passed
tug, was still a thing that clings
quick, was slipping from each grasp
Feel a presence when alone
a butterfly land on your hand
when you see the departed, spitting clone
struck dumb, who waved that magic wand?
The mist to pass across the mind
the rustle of the leaves not blown
the unseen hand that moves the blinds
an eeriness you cant disown
Our reach is further than we think
the busy life of pen and ink
do you hear the whisper, feel the link
and spectre's bend the quills sharp nib
you hear the steps to make you turn
a chill of air
a waft that someone's spirit stirred
Relationship still tied with intangible belief
a leash, seek freedom from the wanton
regrets, sign the love letters. final kiss
the grey, that gavel in an empty auction
When love was held by puppet strings
preciousness of one that passed
tug, was still a thing that clings
quick, was slipping from each grasp
Feel a presence when alone
a butterfly land on your hand
when you see the departed, spitting clone
struck dumb, who waved that magic wand?
The mist to pass across the mind
the rustle of the leaves not blown
the unseen hand that moves the blinds
an eeriness you cant disown
Our reach is further than we think
the busy life of pen and ink
do you hear the whisper, feel the link
and spectre's bend the quills sharp nib
Written by slipalong
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wallyroo92
Forum Posts: 1867
Tyrant of Words
154
Joined 11th July 2012Forum Posts: 1867
In His Beloved's Arms
There was black ice on the bridge
And the night was dark and cold
But he couldn’t wait to see her
Driving all night was brave and bold
He parked his car across the street
Then softly knocked on her door
But it seemed like no one was home
So he sat disheartened on the floor
He decided to go back to the car
But to his luck the car was stolen
So he decided to take long walk
Until his feet hurt and were swollen
He came upon an old shabby motel
But the lobby was vacant and empty
No one answered the desk bell
As the clock on the wall said five-twenty
He fell asleep there in the lobby couch
He didn’t wake up until later that night
He’d been so tired he slept all day
And decided to walk back quite in plight
The roads were lonely and desolate
No cars seemed to drive in the street
The houses were quite and dark
Except air carried the sound of his feet
He knocked on her door again
Still there was no one home
He thought of asking for help
Or least to use the phone
But no one opened their doors
As if everyone had disappeared
So he decided to walk back again
All this seemed a little too weird
As he walked down that road
He saw a car driving by
Tired he extended his thumb
And gladly asked for ride
An old priest stopped the car
And said “are you ok son?”
“My car was stolen” he said
“I’m sorry” he said stunned
They drove for nearly half an hour
In that long and lonely dark road
As the young man spoke of love
And how his passion never slowed
The priest suddenly slammed the brakes
And ran out frightened out of the car
Scampering into a near-by open diner
Leaving the engine running and door ajar
Confused the young man got out
Looking around to see what happened
Then slowly walked to the same diner
Scared, angry and also saddened
He sat distraught in a corner booth
Glad to see some patrons there
But he scanned and didn’t see the priest
Wondering why he left in despair
He waited but no one paid attention
Only hearing the sound of a T.V. screen
As the reporter said “ghost story”
He looked up and thought it was dream
“Locals report that they see a shadow
Of man walking at night in the streets”
His attention was now on the screen
As some of the patrons edged in their seats
“He was driving into town” the T.V. said
Coming to reconcile with his estranged wife
But the icy road conditions on that night..
....at the bridge and he lost his life”
That’s not true, he said to himself
“It’s true” a voice said behind the counter
An old waitress told some customers
“Some people have had an encounter”
“About five years ago” she continued
“A priest done come in here screaming
Saying he picked up a young man
Then disappeared like he’d been dreaming
They say he knocks on house doors
But when they open, no one is there
It’s as if he’s been asking for help
The way he must’ve died in despair”
“That’s not true” the young man yells
And runs out slamming the diner door
Running fast to his beloved’s arms
Trying to forget this cruel horror
By the next night he forgets the nightmare
Parking his car across the lonely street
Excited to hold his beloved in his arms
As the air carries the sound of his feet...
Written by wallyroo92
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Razzerleaf
Forum Posts: 525
Fire of Insight
27
Joined 15th Sep 2019 Forum Posts: 525
Wooooo scary stuff, chuffed as punch, really enjoyed reading all the great poems and humbled by the encouragement. Many thanks Sibyl for hosting the fright comp. Best R