Ghost Story


After his wife died

Robert lived alone

And spent his nights painting.

His colours were directly plucked from nature

Or so he thought

And he toiled for hours to get the images just right.

He would take them to art shows

And once won first prize

But never made it outside of the smaller events in the country towns.

When he died, his children came and buried him

No one was too sad.

A local woman named Edith announced one morning

That she had been visited by the ghost of Robert Martin,

She described the scene

That it was him, she recognised him,

he appeared before her as she lay in bed alone.

It was his face, but it had shrunken, and the skin had pulled back against the skull,

Dirt fell from his mouth

And his eyes were gone.

He held out his fingers toward her,

The bones had pushed through the skin

And she could see the rib bones through his torn and ruined shirt.

The worst thing was that he glowed like moonlight.

The women listened to Edith speak

And never again did she have any respect in town.

A grown woman telling a story like that, they said.

Through the field behind the house

Simon Gatterly bought a large house on the corner of Plimpton Road and Lake Street. It was a new home on the edge of town. Behind it was a wide field that ran to a forest.

One day while sitting on his back deck watching the sun come down, an old man came out of the forest and made his way through the long yellow grass. The man came up to the back fence, climbed over it and walked up to Simon. Simon sat quietly as the old man approached.

“Hello,” Simon said.

“Hello,” replied the old man and kept walking up the back steps and into the house.

Simon stood up and went after him. “He must be lost,” he said to himself as he followed the old man into the house.

Simon looked about for him but he had disappeared. He looked in his bedroom to see if the old man was hiding in there. Simon found him. The old man was lying in bed falling asleep. The covers pulled over him. Simon was shocked. The old man who was covered in mud and filth, was falling asleep in the bed.

“What are you doing?” Simon yelled and pulled the covers back. The old man was still fully dressed and wearing his boots.

“Go away, I am sleeping,” the old man cried and tried to pull the covers up.

“No, come out of the bed!” Simon grabbed the old man by the arm and pulled at him, trying to force him out.

“Please let me sleep, let me sleep.”
“Come out old man, I’ll call someone to come and get you, come out of the bed.”
Simon forced the old man out and dragged him into the living room and put him on a chair. The old man was almost black with dirt. His hands were clodded with filth, his nails were black.

“I’ll call your family, what is their number?”
The old man gave the number and Simon called it.

“Hello?” Simon spoke into the phone. “What’s your name?” he whispered to the old man.

“Arthur Pirdty.”
“Hello? Yes. I have had an old man wander into my house and his name is Arthur Pirdty. He gave me this number, do you know him?”
Simon listened to the answer and his mouth dropped open. “Dead? Buried a month ago?” Simon turned to look at the old man sitting next to him and screamed. He dropped the phone at his feet.

In the chair sat a corpse, the skin coming away from the bone, the mouth open in a silent scream.


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A Halloween Ghost Story

Simon McCarrick used drugs. He was a heavy user, spending all his money and destroying his health. One day, under the influence, he drove his car home from town and passing through a quiet suburb he hit and killed an old man who was crossing the road at a set of traffic lights. Simon, dizzy and heavily affected, climbed out of his car and turned the old man over. The back of the old man’s head was caved in but his face was unharmed and Simon had a good look at the man’s features, then in a panic, Simon ran back to his car and drove home.

That night Simon swore to himself he would not use any more, he sat shaking in his small rented room above a fruit market. He had no one to help him and he had been throwing up half the night. Finally, although sick, he dragged himself into bed. The old man’s face flashed through his mind and the night seemed so dark and cold. He could not sleep.

The next day, Simon tried to nap but the noise of the market and the sun through the windows kept him up. He went for a walk in the park and with his nerves as bad as they were he bought some drugs and began using again. The same thing happened that night, he swore off using and he felt sick. He crawled into bed again and tried to sleep. This time the night seemed softer and less threatening and just as he was falling asleep he heard a noise. It was a noise from within the room, he opened his eyes, it sounded like an animal scratching at the walls. Sometimes animals came in, attracted by the food below. He looked about but as soon as he turned on his lamp the noise stopped. He turned off the light and rolled over in bed. The scratching returned. It was coming from the corner of the room. This time Simon sat up and looked without turning on the lamp.

In the corner was a mass of cloud, internally lit by a blue light. Simon froze and his eyes went wide with terror. He would have screamed but these things had occurred to him before in his drug hazes. He sat silently, blinking and shaking his head, trying to shake the nonsense away. But instead of the cloud disappearing, it grew larger and larger until it was the old man he had killed. The old man stood in the corner of the room and stood there silently watching Simon.

“Oh God”! Simon yelled. “Oh God!”

The old man seemed to hear the cry and stepped back to the wall, then with a flowing motion and agile strength, the apparition climbed the wall, still watching Simon, until he reached the ceiling, then in the corner he stopped and perched like a night owl waiting for its prey.

“What do you want?” Simon called to the man, the ghost made no answer. His was silent but then, before Simon’s eyes, the man began to decay. In twenty seconds the ghost went from being the old man to a skeleton with strips of flesh and rotten clothes falling from him and collecting in a putrid pile on the floor below. Soon the old man was a skeleton, it stayed very still in the corner of the room just below the ceiling. Simon screamed, the skeleton stayed a little while longer, seeming to enjoy the terror and then disappeared into the black night.

Simon did not sleep or move all night, he just waited. Nothing happened until sunrise then Simon climbed out of bed and examined the wall. There was nothing remaining of the apparition. The were no marks or stains.

Terrified Simon left the house and stayed at a friends place for the night. The friend let him stay in the front room on a couch. As night fell, Simon was happy to be away from his room. He lay his head back on the hard couch and closed his eyes. At that moment the apparition reappeared. Blue and terrible in the black night. It climbed the wall and there from the top corner again it decayed. Simon screamed. By the time his friend came into the room there was nothing there. Only Simon, tears running from his eyes and pale in a state of terror.

People began to blame it on his drug use and no one believed what he told them. He did not mention that he had killed the man he only told them a ghost visited him. Simon stayed at others people houses, they let him stay in spare rooms or the garage but each night the ghost would visit him no matter where he was. Simon could find no peace.

That night Simon spent in his own apartment. He was certain he would soon die, the terror was too much. As the darkness fell and the phantom appeared, Simon fell to his knees before the old man and begged.

“Please, stop haunting me!” He yelled, “I’ll do anything to have you stop! What do you want me to do? I’ll go to the police and tell them what I did! Anything to have you leave me!” Simon lay before the ghost who looked down at him. The ghost did not climb the wall, instead he looked down at Simon and nodded.

“I…” The ghost said in a voice deep with death, “I want you to go to my wife’s grave tomorrow at midnight. I want you to place flowers on her grave and I want you to say a prayer for her.”

Simon looked up at the ghost. “I will. I will!” He said. “Where is her grave?”

The ghost told him his wife’s name and where her grave was in the city graveyard. “Do this, at midnight and I will no longer haunt you.”

Simon agreed.

The next day Simon, feeling happier with himself, took all the money he had and bought a large bouquet of flowers. He walked past the graveyard and looked to the front corner where he saw the massive gravestone that the ghost had told him to find. Simon went to it, committed the path to his memory and he read the name on the stone. “Mary Watts.” The name read. That was her name, Simon thought, then he went home and took a nap.

Making sure he would not be late, Simon headed out to the graveyard half an hour early. He sat in the park opposite the graveyard until midnight, then carrying the large bunch of flowers, he carefully made his way through the dark to the correct gravestone and laid the flowers out. The town was silent, it was cold and there was no noise. He felt a sense of relief to be ridding himself of his curse. He smiled and then kneeled down on the grave and crossed himself. He said a prayer, something he remembered from his childhood and then again crossed himself. He took a deep breath, it was wonderful to be free. He began to think of other things, and sat for a moment quietly, he could see some stars twinkling in the sky.

“So,” a voice screamed from behind him. “You killed my husband?”

Simon turned and standing behind him was a huge skeleton, covered in dirt. It had burrowed up from the grave, the horrible gaping hole lay open beside it. The skeleton shook the mud from its bony fingers. Simon screamed. The skeleton grabbed him and then dragged him back into the grave with her.