Prompt of the Week: Spooky Stories Around the Campfire

Write a fictional – or real – ghost story.


Write your response in the comments. Best entry gets a shout out next week!

Write with Heart,

Lady Jabberwocky


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14 thoughts on “Prompt of the Week: Spooky Stories Around the Campfire

  1. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I definitely could if I wanted to. My house only had two owners before me, and one of them was the original owner who lived here for more than 60 years. I sometimes have dreams about an old lady rattling around up in the attic – it’s a finished attic that’s more like an non-conforming bedroom. When I’m awake there’s sometimes odd noises coming from up there. They always stop when I go up there to check it out.

    One night I was asleep and when I woke up the door to the attic stairs was open and there was a dark shadow that looked like a figure standing in the doorway. I couldn’t tell what it was but I knew that it was very angry about something. Now in my rational mind I never actually woke up, that was a dream where I dreamed that I woke up and saw a figure, or I did wake up and I was sleepy and just saw a weird shadow. But the door was open in the morning. It does pop open on it’s own sometimes, or when the cat has been batting at it.

    So I don’t believe in ghosts, but I can see how someone could experience something like that and go “yeah, that was a ghost for sure”. You get enough little weird things together late at night and I could see the though process.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Once upon a time, I went on a date with this girl on a Saturday night. She was really pretty, and really sweet, and she acted really into me. I texted her the next day, on Sunday… but I didn’t hear back from her until Wednesday. She said life was really hectic right now, and she’d get back to me and we could go out again when things settled down. I never heard from her again.

    … wait, is that not the type of ghost story you wanted?

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Drops as big as coins pelted down from the sky as the clouds let out a deafening roar. I picked up my pace and half-walked, half ran on the dark, deserted midnight road, looking frantically for shelter and the warmth of company.
    When the rumble faded away, I heard whistling from just ahead. A loud, cheerful whistle of a tune that seemed at once familiar and strange, in contrast to the grim atmosphere. It must be someone who knows his way around this area, I figured, or else he/she wouldn’t be so relaxed in the middle of a storm. Thanking my stars, I ran in the direction of the sound.
    A flash of lightning revealed that the road led to a churchyard; the silhouette of the church in the background was visible for an instant. The whistling seemed to be coming from there. I headed toward it without second thought, with only my ears to guide me in the pitch black of night.
    Finally, I found myself under a giant tree—it must be giant because the trunk seemed pretty thick and sturdy when I half-crashed into it, and it sheltered me from the heavy rain, although I was drenched already. The whistle now seemed very close—as if the person whistling was standing right on the other side of the trunk. Made sense, too. I felt along the trunk with my hands and manoeuvred myself slowly to the other side as another fork of lightning struck the horizon and the whistle suddenly ceased.
    There was nothing on the other side of the trunk except a grave half-sheltered by the tree.

    Liked by 2 people

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