short horror story
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That night I dreamt about Sarah. She stood with her back toward me. She turned as I approached her, and she held out her hand toward me. Before I could reach her, she was fading.I ran, trying to reach her before she disappeared completely. I could hear voices, but I couldn’t see anyone else. The
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Part 3 I started by digging through property records and newspaper clippings from the city. Within an hour I knew the basics; for starters, Rose had been right about the name “Young”. The house was built in 1906 by the Young family after their original family seat had been destroyed in a fire. The estate
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I saw the same empty rooms almost every night and woke up with the unheard voices still ringing in my ears. Each night the dream felt more and more real. I could smell the musty scent of damp brink and decaying wood. I could feel the rough walls under my brown fingers, and the chilled
Bringing Mae Flowers 