Any ghost stories?

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As we are approaching Hallows Eve I thought I'd be really obvious, any tales welcome.

Here's one I had to do for English GSCE Coursework. A ghost Narrative of my own, completely made up. I don't know what I've got, as my teacher's taken my book in for marking over half-term.

It's set in 4 chapters, The Death, The Bereavement, The Madness + The Conclusion.

I've copied this from my saved word document as I typed this up. All I had to do was paste it here.

It's called:

Bereavement, Madness, Death, Repeat

The Death

It was all setup. All I had to do now was walk one and only one step and it’ll be all over, all my pain and misery would fade away and I’ll be able to rest. I had it all worked out and if I got it wrong, my death would be painful and I’d have to suffer even more. If I got it right, well how would I know? I was torn between my very own decision, whether to live or die.

I was oblivious to the screams, shouts and the locked wooden door that was trying to be opened. It was hard to determine what they were saying, but all I knew was they were trying to stop me.

Before I took a deep breath, intending it to be my last, I looked out of the foggy, old, grey window where the sun tried to shine through. I tried to interpret through the embedded dust and dirt but to no avail I couldn’t see the outside world. The room was dim, colourless, and was the perfect place for my death.

I decided a joint would sooth my tense state and make the experience more ethereal. The creased, burnt paper smoothly fixed into my dry wooden mouth and I slowly inhaled this one fixation that would soothe any pain I had. I only took a low dose; otherwise I’d forget what I would be doing. The fumes drifted swiftly all round my mouth and nose. I discarded it quickly once the dosage was level and carefully chose the last words to say, before darkness would imprison me for all eternity.

I curved my anaesthetized head towards the door and yelled “That’s it…” I added “NO MORE!! !” I waited for a reply but all I heard in my relaxed state was a series of monotone echoes of that word that made my heart thud as if it fell to my legs at unquestionable speeds. “No” is that 2 lettered word which circled all around me. I could not take any more and peacefully stepped down…all went black.

Was I dead…Was I unconscious…? I could have been alive…otherwise these thoughts wouldn’t be running through my head. I felt I was in a thunderstorm of confusion but was totally convinced I was still alive.

All of a sudden, this dreamy deluded beginning developed into an awry coma of torment… I had to suffer with the surreal nightmare of “The Past”. The Beginning of the bereavement, and madness…

The Bereavement

It wasn’t that long ago, but it seems long enough after the events that followed. As I relived second after second of the past; my theory of succeeding in killing myself slowly faded away like the air I breathed out in this time travelling experience.

The flashback began with me lying asleep on my dilapidated bed. The calming odour that lingered around my flat woke me up from my comatose state. This was going back a few years, as I wasn’t even “caged” yet and still lived in my flat. This statement was almost certain, until I turned my still anaesthetized head (my guesses were that the marijuana hadn’t worn off when I killed myself) to where my calendar just about stood on the dusty bedside cabinet. I would usually tear off the date it was that day just before I went to bed and scrunch it up and throw it away (as it was a tear off calendar). The day in its blood red letters and numbers that embedded on the paper of the calendar. This day is known for its paranormal feeling, but most superstitious people believed in its mystics. I’m not superstitious, but this day made my blood run cold and sent trembles all over. This day that fell in my flashback was the day my one and only love would be tragically killed. It was Friday The 13th. I heard her comforting voice call my name as I sat on my bed with my eyes froze on the date.

Maybe this is a second chance for me to save her from death, and me from insanity. Maybe I could change fate by just the slightest and live the alternative life compared with my last.

But, maybe this could be some kind of haunting, I thought. To relive the trauma and the root to my suicide.

My one and only love called again out my name and asked if I was ok. I said “I’m fine, I just had a nightmare.” She asked what the nightmare was about. I just replied “I had a premonition.” She replied “What happened in it?” I added “I dreamt that you died, I went mad over your death, and was bunged up in a nuthouse.” Of course this was the truth anyway but she merely replied with “Oh don’t be silly, I’m not gonna die.” And she rubbed my back and kissed me goodbye as she had to go to work. This must have been time travel as I actually felt her touch and kiss me. But how?

It was all flooding back to me. This is exactly what happened on the day of her death. I did have a premonition of what I’d just experience, and had an eerie feeling about the date. It was as if I was 1 of many infinite victims in a paradox. Creepy, I said to myself. I was only in my boxers, and if I wanted to stop the death of my true love I had to get going.

She was already driving to work when I was up and dressed. It was a race against time to save her. I remembered that she had a car and I didn’t so I had to run. I sprinted down the pavement as fast as I could, and I went to cross over to the pavement when her car was coming straight towards me. She swerved out of my way and crashed into a lamppost. The words “Oh s**t...” sprung to my head. I was the cause and effect of her death. I was the one who went in front of her to stop her from dying even though I was the one who killed her. I should have stayed at home. But that means on the real day and not this flashback, a previous me who died had a flashback back and relived this day and tried to stop her from dying. I was a case of a paradox. This was very confusing and I suddenly burst out into tears. It was fate. She was meant to die, because of my misdoings.

As my sweaty hands blanketed my face and I continued to weep, a beam of white surrounded me and I was back in the Mental Institute in the very room that I hung myself in…

The Madness

The reason I went mad was through bereavement as I’ve told. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. What actually happened on the real day was that I didn’t sit there on the pavement crying. I ran up to the wreck of my love and tried to revive her. I was wrongly accused of assault but was later acquitted and over the next few months I suffered with manic depression. I failed several suicide attempts; I self harmed; I broke down every other day in the streets in rage and started assaulting people near me; and even torched my own house in sheer anger. Although I respectively buried my one and only love and went to pay a visit every now and then. I knew there was something wrong with me so I went to see a GP and was diagnosed with Bi-Polar Disorder and showed schizophrenic symptoms. I was wondering why I had voices in my head.

I did many other crazy things that got me bunged up in The Mental Health Institution as well.

The Conclusion

I wondered why I had a flashback on the day of bereavement. I later found out it was a kind of reminder to why I went mad etc. It was also part of the paradox as well. But that memory was not going to hunt me anymore, as I found peace. And now, I sit in the very room where I hung myself as some kind of spirit. At one point I might leave the room at to see if my one and only love is a spirit as well.

Its fun being like this. No problems or stress are to ever haunt me again. No one can see me but I can see them. The room is now locked as they say it is believed to be “haunted”. They are right, the nurses and doctors of the Mental Health Institution that I was once in.

I am not the least put off by how pale I am. I’m not see-through like most people like me. But I’m invisible enough.

To me, this is a happy ending. To you, you might think otherwise for you see I am a spirit, I am a ghost, and I am dead…

One morning I woke up to make myself some Coffee. Just as I was reaching for a Coffee Filter, I've heard a dingning noise, outside. I looked out the front window, and I saw the Ghost of a Routemaster. I've closed the cupbord and decided to boil some water for Tea. I looked out the window, again and the Ghost Bus winked at me.

That concludes my cute little Ghost Story.

Not really a story but I have had repeating dreams where a person/young women is
buried (been murdered) I guess in my area. I can never seem to get good enough details
to say if I have really tap into another world. But like anywhere in America their are lots of missing people so it would be no surprise they are buried somewhere. My dreams are of some area in a clearing in the coutry side maybe a dried up pond. I seem to remember a detail in which even a prime suspect(killer) is known but thats it. Granted
there are a number of movies like this feeding my mind.

I loved the ghost routemaster story!

Theres a new trend for using routemasters in advertisements here in the UK, a woman sat on a bus eating chocolate etc, and I'm thinking but its those damn bendy ones now, I suppose its nostalgia. They are beautiful vehicles.