Ghost And Hauntings - Blog Posts

This is so good, dark but kind natasha is so sweet and you write her so well❤️

No Rest for the Wicked

Natasha x reader AU Drabble

Ghosts

You couldn’t believe the price. Not for a place like this. Not in this city.

And that alone should have sounded all the warning bells in your head. No one would sell a house like this here for that minuscule amount.

But you were so broke and so desperate and maybe it seemed too good to be true, but take the good that comes your way, right?

Everything was perfect on the walk through. You were in awe. Such a magnificent place in the middle of town.

And you did ask, at the end. Because dreamer or not, you aren’t an idiot.

“I want it.” You told the real-estate agent. “It’ll cost everything I have - everything they left me, but I have to know- why is it so cheap?”

She is pristine. Black pencil skirts and clear stockings- hair in such a tight bun it actually tightens the skin of her face. (Cool trick, you register for years later. Will have to remember that one someday.)

Anyway

She is not the type who seems to be easily frazzled but she is noticeably uncomfortable at your inquiry.

She clears her throat and fixes her already perfect hair.

“Someone died here,” she confesses. “Violently.”

Oh, that’s all? You don’t believe in ghosts.

“We’ve had 3 other buyers pull out in escrow,” she continues. “Who knows. Maybe she’ll like you.”

Yeah you’re still not buying it - the story that is- not the house- you are definitely buying the house.

“I’ll sign and give you the down payment right now,” you state with confidence.

You move in that afternoon.

And the place feels like a dream. It feels like a fresh start- a balm to your soul after all your loss.

There are some— strange occurrences. Your glasses moving from your nightstand to your bathroom sink. Drawers that you swear you never touched hanging open, your dog— really seems to hate this place.

But you chalk it up to trauma- you’ve just experienced a huge loss and of course your headspace isn’t good.

But everything else here is.

You love your house, your new job is going great, and you just started dating this person who (fingers crossed) seems good for you.

So what if your house is haunted?

You tell yourself that everyday.

Until you finally see her.

And she is… beautiful.

But so terrifying because there is not doubt in your sleepy mind when you walk into your kitchen one morning (when your dog seems particularly upset) and see this red head beauty already standing at your counter in a white night dress, holding a knife, —that she’s dead.

You fight the urge to run and it’s a good instinct, you think. Because she’s looking at you so hopefully. Like you can see her.

And you are usually quite eloquent and articulate but all you can manage to say is,”Are you her? Did you die here?”

And oh my goodness don’t antagonize a ghost but… she just gives you a kind smile and says, “yes. I’m Natasha. I’ve been watching you.”

You swallow and say, “I know,” before joining her at the counter to drink coffee.

And after that—- you kind of become—- friends?

You welcome her presence and when she materializes you just… hang out and watch TV. She isn’t scary.

You want to know, but you never ask how she died. That seems so private and like something maybe she will tell you eventually. When you’re better friends.

She starts showing herself to you more and more and you honestly like her. Like of course it’s weird she’s a ghost (or a product of your medication) but she starts to become the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can tell her everything because she can’t tell anyone else. She’s dead.

But her physicality is real. And when she is present she can touch you and it’s so nice to be held.

You watch old movies with your head on her shoulder and her arms around your waist but— she’s always gone in the morning and you wake up alone on the couch.

You finally convince yourself out of your dead girl day dreams when you get a better psychiatrist (and better meds) and you meet someone —- who is a dream.

She never comes around when they’re there but you can feel her—- hovering. And you convince yourself you just need a higher prescription.

You’re crazy. Meds are your saving grace. There is no ghost in your house. You just went a little nuts for a while.

But then he has to go on a business trip to Dubai. For a month.

And your back alone in that place.

Except she won’t let you be alone. She’s back and she’s angry. And you don’t know how to apologize to a dead person when you’ve done nothing wrong.

But she haunts your every move. She won’t let you sleep.

Until one night you are so terrified and so desperate you just scream, “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

They’re the last words you’ll ever speak alive.

You never asked her but suddenly you see clear as day the man she married — choking her— to death.

Just as you feel her hands around your neck.

You’re so cold when you come out of her memory and you know, you know without even having to think about it - you’re dead.

You turn to the side and she is laying next to you with a soft smile on her face, brushing a little bit of your hair away from your eyes.

“You killed me,” you croak out.

“Yes,” she acknowledges.

“Why?!” You plead

“You asked me what I wanted. I wanted you. Forever.”

You’ll never even get to know if there is a heaven. You’ll always be trapped in her hell.

Have you seen my fangs?

Tag yourself: Modern monsters.

Vampire: Black leather jackets and sunglasses, night owl, blood-red lipstick and black eye shadow, deep kisses, mysterious,  is a picky eater, intelligent and witty, buys old stuff for “the aesthetic”, wants to see the world, is a wine-person, can do a perfect snarl, eye-rolls at stupid people.

Werewolf: Long and colourfull nails, loves puppies, eat a lot of meat, playful, is athletic, protec and attac, can’t do math, is sweet and lovable, hoodies and running shoes,  loves to cuttle, always knows when the next full moon is.

Siren: Coloured hair, wears skirts and dresses, swims at night, shiny highlighter, doesn’t wear shoes, seduces people with her songs, eyes as deep as the ocean, shallow kisses, laughs at her own jokes, sings in the shower, likes the stars, collect crystals and seashells.

Zombie: Wears statement t-shirts, mixes food together, can’t do sports to save her life, knows all the memes, a fangirl TM, would lose her head if it weren’t attached to her body, pillow-forts and blankets, is very lazy.

Witch: Wears all black, magical symbols as tattoos, carries her potions in water-bottles, her house is full of plants, has a pet bird, loves the outdoors, grows her own greens, vegetarian, wears hats, scientific, cat-person.

Ghost: Is shy, cold colours, clothes that flow in the wind, sensitive, cries a lot, mostly stays at home, owns an ouija-board, want everyone to get along, pale, soft lipgloss, is always freezing, walks lightly, doodles on everything, stares through people, remember embarrassing things too often.

Abandoned dairy farm

Northern State Asylum in Sedro Wooley Washington

The story of Jesse James a Southern Soldier in the Second War of Independence

Jesse James Haunted Farm

It is said that the James farm in Kearney, Missouri where the notorious outlaw Jesse James grew up is haunted. Jesse James’ parents moved from Kentucky to Kearney in 1842.

His father was a Baptist minister who wanted his boys to be well educated. However, in a trip to the California gold fields he died leaving his sons without a father, Jesse was just 3 years old.

His mother, Zerelda lived on this farm for the rest of her life, through three marriages and eight children.

During the Civil War in 1863 the James’ farm was brutally attacked by Union soldiers. Shortly afterward Jesse age 16 and his older brother Frank became Confederate guerilla soldiers, riding with William Quantrill and Bloody Bill Anderson.

Quantrill’s Raiders as they later became known operated out of Missouri. They ambushed Union patrols and supply convoys. They seized the mail and occasionally struck towns on the Kansas-Missouri border. Their main focus though was against the local pro-Union civilians, which they tried to drive out of the territory.

After the Civil War the James brothers, Jesse and Frank now officially outlaws started to attack trains, banks and stagecoaches that were controlled by the Northern side which bought brutal control to the Missouri legislation.

From 1860 to 1882, the James gang was the most feared band of outlaws in America. Responsible for 20 bank and train robberies they murdered countless individuals that stood in their way. They stole an estimated $200,000. Despite their ruthlessness they became folk heroes to some. They literally became legends in their own time.

The local citizens of Kearney kept quiet when they were home on the farm during this period of time. Clay county where the farm is located was in a part of Missouri called Little Dixie, the entire state was 75% southern sympathizers. Both Jesse and Frank were devoted husbands and fathers who spent a lot of time with their families. They were not modern Robin Hoods though, for they kept the money they stole.

In 1869 the gang robbed a bank in Gallatin, Missouri. Jesse shot the banker through the heart feeling he was responsible for the callous murder of Bloody Bill Anderson. The James gang lost some public favor after this. Local newspapers started to call for the capture of this blood thirty gang.

Frustrated at how the locals protected them, Governor Crittenden had the railroad place an enormous price on the James brother’s heads. Pinkerton detectives hired by several bankers raided the James farm in 1875 thinking the older brothers were there. They threw a bomb in the window killing Jesse and Frank’s younger half-brother, Archie as their mother watched. She lost part of her right arm and hand during this struggle.

In one bank robbery several members of the gang were killed. After this the Youngers, a part of their gang were sent to prison for 25 years.

In 1882 the brothers planned one last robbery with Charley and Bob Ford. They did not know these brothers intended to betray them for the large price on their heads.

On the morning they were to commit this robbery Jesse ate breakfast with the Ford’s, placed his gun on one of the farmhouse beds and stopped to straighten a picture that hung on the wall. Bob Ford shot Jesse in the back of the head. He died instantly and was buried in the side yard of the James’ farmhouse. His remains were later moved to the family plot at Mount Olivet Cemetery in Kearney.

The locals did not appreciate what the Ford brothers had done. Bob Ford who was pardoned by Governor Crittenden was driven out of Missouri known as the coward who had shot Jesse. He traveled around in a Wild West show ironically about the James gang. He was shot and killed in Creede, Colorado in 1892. His older brother Charley stayed in Missouri but was shunned. He committed suicide ten years after his brother was murdered.

Frank James gave himself up after Jesse was killed. He was tried several times but there never was enough evidence to convict him. He lived peacefully for the rest of his life at the farm. In later years he charged tourists money to give them a tour of the place.

The James farm and house have been considered haunted for over 100 years. Located off James Road in Kearney, Missouri the farm is a museum today. Employees at this farm still report odd occurrences. After the museum closes for the night many have spotted lights going on and off in the farmhouse. Others report that doors have slammed shut in front of them without cause.

Several witnesses have reported hearing horse hooves stomping outside on foggy nights. When investigated nothing has been found. Others have reported hearing whispered conversations inside the house when no one is there. Some have even heard the bomb going off or cries and gunshots as if a Civil War battle is happening outside. Many staff at the museum today will not go into the house alone. They state that they feel an unnatural intense presence in the home that scares them.