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Ghost Stories

The Burglar’s Ghost

I am not an imaginative man, and no one who knows me can say that I have ever indulged in sentimental ideas upon any subject. I am rather predisposed, in fact, to look at everything from a purely practical standpoint, and this quality has been further developed in me by the fact that for twenty years I have been an active member of the detective police force at Westford, a large town in one of our most important manufacturing districts.

The Phantom Toe

I am not a superstitious man, far from it, but despite all my efforts to the contrary I could not help thinking, directly I had taken a survey of my chamber, that I should never quit it without going through a strange adventure. There was something in its immense size, heaviness and gloom that seemed to annihilate at one blow all my resolute skepticism as regards supernatural visitations. It appeared to me totally impossible to go into that room and disbelieve in ghosts.

The Dead Woman’s Photograph

Virgil Hoyt, a photographer’s assistant up at St. Paul, had a whimsical view of the world, and he did not like to be bothered with anything disagreeable. That is the reason that he loathes and detests going to a house of mourning to photograph a corpse. The horribly bad taste of it offends him partly, and partly he is annoyed at having to shoulder, even for a few moments, a part of someone’s burden of sorrow. He doesn’t like sorrow and would willingly canoe 500 miles up the cold Canadian rivers to get rid of it. Nevertheless, as assistant photographer, it is often his duty to do this very kind of thing.

The Lorelei of the Rhine

The Lorelei of the Rhine

Count Ludwig was the only son of the Prince Palatine. He lived with his father in the castle at Stahleck. The young count had heard many marvelous tales of the beautiful Lorelei and he determined to go in search of her.

The Apparition

The other evening in an old castle the conversation turned upon apparitions, each one of the party telling a story. As the accounts grew more horrible the young ladies drew closer together.

“Have you ever had an adventure with a ghost?” said they to me. “Do you not know a story to make us shiver? Come, tell us something.”

“I am quite willing to do so,” I replied. “I will tell you of an incident that happened to myself.”

The Phantom Woman

He took an all-possessing, burning fancy to her from the first. She was neither young nor pretty, so far as he could see—but she was wrapped round with mystery. That was the key of it all; she was noticeable in spite of herself. Her face at the window, sunset after sunset; her eyes, gazing out mournfully through the dusty panes, hypnotized the lawyer.

Watch by my grave

Watch by My Grave

When the Devil comes for the soul of a rich farmer, only the promise of a poor neighbor and the wits of a passing soldier can save him.

Bloody Mary, Quite Contrary

“Mary, Mary…” the half-heard whisper woke her in the darkness before dawn. 
Darkness.  How appropriate.  These days, it seemed as if her whole life was in darkness. 

The Bells

There once was an evil priest who did not fear God or man. His duties for the church included counting the offerings and ringing the bells to summon people to Mass. But his heart was filled with greed, and he began to take advantage of the good people of his parish.