Three short ghost stories today, enjoy.
A Spirit’s Peace
In the quietest moments, on the darkest nights, when the wind falls silent and the clouds dim the skies, a tormented soul may find peace. Settling in the void between seconds, between sound and sight, in the crack that hides from the light, spirits can fade. Far from the pain that binds them, away from the wandering that dooms them, they float in a tranquil sea of nothing.
It never lasts.
The moonlight always creeps in, or a gust of wind, or the first rays of sun. The living world pulls them back to their half-life, their ghostly forever existence…
Stay Away
The little house on the hill sits and waits. Sometimes it appears as a cottage in a pastoral setting, sometimes a shack on seashore rise, or a clapboard farmhouse overlooking a meadow. Whatever disguise it chooses doesn’t matter, for the cozy exterior is a trap.
The house is patient and cunning, showing you what you desire, wrapped in gingerbread smells and a quaint front porch. Open the door at your peril; many have entered, none have ever left. The bodies rot by the front stairs, some scattered bones, and others seeping flesh, while our souls scream eternally in the walls.
The Apparition
At night, he stares at me, standing in the corner of my bedroom. Dressed prim and proper, high starched collar and a tailored suit, his expression dripping in sorrow. He never says a word. I shiver in my bed and watch him, my gaze fixed until he vanishes.
What does he want?
Each night he haunts me, a glowing ember of the afterlife manifesting in the corner, staring, always staring. I wish he would speak, tell me why he returned, why his ghost torments me.
Does he want me dead?
I would not blame him. I murdered him after all.
Be Afraid of the Dark 
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