Short Halloween Ghost Stories
Halloween Ghost Stories for Children
Here is our collection of short ghost stories for Samhain (Halloween).
I read the other day in a book by a fashionable novelist that ghosts went out when the electric light came in. What nonsense. Edith Wharton
A group of young girls were having a sleepover [slumber party USA] at Halloween and began to exchange ghost stories.
Moira claimed that the old man who had been buried earlier that week in the graveyard down the street had been buried alive. She claimed that if you tried, you could hear him still scratching at the lid of his coffin.
The other girls called her bluff and told her that she wouldn't do it. They said she was too afraid to go down there to the grave that very night. They continued to challenge her and eventually she gave into the peer pressure and accepted their challenge. Since she was going to go alone, she needed to prove to the others that she actually followed through with the task. Moira agreed to take a stake with her and drive it into the ground so the next day the girls would know that she had been to the grave.
She headed off to the gravesite, stake in hand, and never returned. The other girls assumed she had "chickened out" and had continued home instead.
The next morning as they passed the graveyard they saw her there at the old man's grave.
She had accidentally staked her nightie to the ground and when she tried to run from the grave, she couldn't... she had died of fright right on the grave.
Funny how one Halloween ghost story reminds you of another....
When I was a boy, each year as the nights began to draw in, my uncle John would tell we kids this Halloween story. It was a tale about a trick that he played in a graveyard. One night Uncle John spotted his great friend Eddie weaving his way home from the village pub. As John watched, he saw Eddie open the church's lychgate and take the shortcut through the graveyard.
There was no doubt that Eddie was the worse for wear, and appeared disoriented, really he should have taken the longer route home via the round ring. But then he cried out to nobody in particular, 'Where am I?'
John replied instantly, 'Amongst the living'.
'Where are you?' cried Eddie'; to which John replied in his most sepulchral voice, 'Amongst the dead'.
Eddie sobered up instantly, rushed back the way he came, and took the long way around the churchyard. This time he preferring to go passed the round ring, rather than stay a minute longer amongst the spirits of the gravestones.
Our friends Josh and Sandy were firm believers in ghosts and claimed to have seen the mysterious red-haired phantom that haunted Route 44.
My wife and I were sitting with them at dinner one night, and we started kidding them about it. 'Funny how we've never seen him, and we drive that stretch of road all the time,' my wife Jill drawled.
'You sceptic,' Sandy said, emphasizing the word as if it were a curse. 'One of these days, you're gonna find out I'm right. And you'll owe me a pizza.'
'If I ever see the ghostly hitchhiker, I'll buy you a large pizza every day for a year,' I promised.
The evening ended pleasantly, and it wasn't long before Jill and I were driving home through the crisp fall air.
'Let's take Route 44,' Jill said suddenly, flashing me a sideways look.
'Ha!' Jill snorted derisively. She yawned and turned her head to face the passenger window. Suddenly, she let out a shriek of sheer terror. I jumped and glanced sideways, my hands shaking on the steering wheel. A red-haired man with a bushy beard wearing a plaid shirt and blue jeans was running right next to the passenger side of the car. He kept glancing in the window and leering at Jill.
Heart pounding in terror, I hit the gas. A moment later, I glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw the red-haired man was sitting in the back seat of our car. Jill shrieked again and began pummelling the phantom with her purse.
I kept looking back and forth between my wife, the phantom, and the road ahead, determined that I was not going to let the red-haired ghost force us into a fatal accident. I glanced toward the back seat for a moment, and the ghost laughed, a laugh that made my teeth tingle and the hairs on my neck stand up.
'Hail Mary, full of grace; the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.' Jill gabbled the words of the rosary. Glancing in the mirror, I saw the phantom grimace as she recited the holy words. Then he vanished without a trace.
I got us out of there much faster than the speed limit allowed. I was shaking from head to toe, and Jill was sobbing hysterically. As soon as I pulled into the driveway and turned off the car, I swept my wife into my arms and held her as tightly as I could. We clung together for a long time, until both of us had stopped shaking and Jill's sobs had abated.
'I want to go inside,' Jill whispered against my neck, and I nodded, not trusting my voice.
That night we discussed the incident, but oddly enough, neither of us had nightmares. When we woke in the morning, I felt much better about the whole thing, until I remembered my promise to Sandy the night before. I groaned aloud and then clapped a hand over my mouth lest the sound wake my wife. Too late. She opened her green eyes and gave me a sleepy smile.
'You owe Sandy a year's worth of pizza,' Jill said.
'I most certainly do,' I replied, rubbing the back of her neck gently. 'I most certainly do!'
As she put the last cardboard bat in place, the shop's door creaked open. David eyed her Halloween display with distaste.
'You could do with spending a bit more time selling the books, not decorating the place,' he snapped, tripping over the cat as he went to hang up his coat.
Phoebe flicked a strand of ebony hair out of her eyes. 'My display always increases sales,' she pointed out politely.
In the four years that she had run the bookshop, Phoebe could not remember a single time that he had complimented her on her work. And the sales figures had increased so much since she had started to run the place. She loved her job. But she hated her boss.
Toby rubbed around her legs, his emerald eyes staring lovingly at her. Phoebe bent to stroke his silky black ears.
'I'm going upstairs to do some paperwork,' muttered David.
'Can you remember to get someone to fix the stairs please?' Phoebe asked him. 'It's a nightmare carrying the books down from the stock room. I'm sure the banisters would give way if I fell.'
David mumbled something and then swore as he fell over Toby. He turned to kick out but Toby had disappeared. 'And get rid of that cat,' he snarled.
'But the customers like him,' she said quietly, but David was already halfway up the stairs.
'Don't worry, Toby. I'll get rid of him before I get rid of you.' Toby blinked his eyes affectionately and rubbed around his mistress's ankles.
Phoebe tidied up the piles of books on her Spectres and Spells display, picking up one of the books to read while she waited for the first customers of the day.
'I do hate him, Toby,' she sighed. 'Always too busy thinking about money to care about the books.' Phoebe watched as Toby tore at the carpet, sharpening his claws.
'And if he saw you doing that ...' What would he do if he saw Toby wrecking the carpet? He was always trying to kick Toby. What a truly horrible man he was.
It was nearing lunchtime when Phoebe heard the familiar creaking upstairs of David getting ready to leave. She glanced around to make sure Toby wasn't up to mischief but he was nowhere to be seen.
David screamed. A ghastly scream. And then a crash.
Phoebe rushed into the back to see David sprawled across the floor at the foot of the stairs. His neck was at the wrong angle. The banisters were splintered across the hall. Toby stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching.
'It would have been instantaneous,' said the paramedic softly when the ambulance arrived twenty minutes later. 'It looks like he tripped on the loose bit of carpet.' He patted her on the shoulder sympathetically. But Phoebe was watching as they moved David's dead body.
She saw a neat row of claw marks across his ankle. Deep claw marks. And she saw Toby. Sitting. Watching.
When the ambulance had left, Phoebe sat down at the bookshop counter.
'Thank you, Toby,' she said and he purred.
Fred, the photographer goes to a haunted castle determined to get a picture of a ghost. The ghost he encounters turns out to be friendly and poses for a snapshot. Happily Fred dashes to his studio, develops the film and…to his horror, finds that the photos are underexposed and completely blank.
Moral of the story: The spirit is willing, but the flash is weak.
by Lord Lytton [1803-1873]
Problem With Clairvoyant
The ghost you're trying to reach is currently unavailable.
Able Fable was a miserable old man, who was always worried that someone would break into his house and steal all his money. Each night before he would go to sleep, he would lock his wallet up in a safe located near his bed so that if anyone were to try to rob him they would have to wake him up to do it.
Unfortunately, on the night that Able died he had only placed the wallet
on the table near the safe without locking it up. Before his death, Able
said to his family and friends that none of them were to touch his home or
his money and he said that anyone who came near his safe and wallet would be
greeted by his ghost and be scared away.
Able's eldest son decided to make the first attempt. He opened the door
and went in, he saw Able's wallet on the table and reached for it.
Immediately he heard a voice say,
The eldest daughter in disbelief decided she would make her way into Able's room. She entered and reached for the wallet.
She then heard the voice say, 'I am the ghost of Able Fable, put the money back on the table!'
The daughter was so scared that she dropped the wallet and ran from the room screaming, 'I heard the voice of a ghost!'
The youngest son decided to make his attempt at getting the money. When he entered the room and reached for the wallet he also heard the voice say, 'I am the ghost of Able Fable, put the money back on the table!'
The youngest son decided that he was not easily scared and said back, 'Well, I am the ghost of Davy Crockett and the money is going to stay in my pocket!'
The youngest son took all the money for his own and the ghost of Able Fable was never heard from again!
If you like this page then please share it with your friends
See more children's short stories: