In "Ghost Stories For The Festive Season," writer Glenn Riley has has masterfully written and curated a collection of ghost stories that evoke the spirit of the festive season in the most spine-tingling way. This compendium isn't your ordinary gathe...
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The full moon peeked through gnarled bare branches as an antique bus lumbered up the pitted gravel drive, angling toward the imposing silhouette of Harthorn Mansion. Ivy and vines crawled across the weathered stone façade while dead trees on the overgrown grounds stretched their skeletal limbs toward the night sky.
Inside the rickety vehicle, thrill-seekers Wilfred, Amelia, Imogen, Charlotte and Sydney took in the sights with growing unease and excitement. Their guide, Glenn Riley, stood at the front in a purple velvet tailcoat, practicing his most sinister laugh.
"Welcome, welcome," Glenn announced, waving his lantern theatrically so shadows danced across his angular features. "I am your guide to the most haunted dwelling in the county. Harthorn Mansion! Built in 1892 by the mad billionaire industrialist Rupert Harthorn, it saw many a lavish party over the years. But Harthorn's darker tastes led to orgies, séances and devil worship right within these walls.”
Glenn’s face took on a gleeful glint. “Then, one bitterly cold December night, Old Man Harthorn took an axe to his wife and children before hanging himself from the chandelier in a fit of insane rage!"
The guests glanced around uneasily as Glenn continued the tale. For years after the infamous Harthorn Murders, the abandoned mansion sat rotting on its hil l, with rumors of ghosts and strange occurrences keeping the locals away...until a paranormal society bought the property in the 80s to run haunted tours. But they fled after just one week, reporting “unspeakable entities” dwelling inside. Ever since, the county had kept the mansion boarded up and off-limits.
“But not to intrepid souls like yourselves!” Glenn declared. He led them off the bus toward two massive oak doors hanging crookedly from rusting hinges. Rotting jack-o-lanterns from Halloween past lined the crumbling front steps.
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As the group followed Glenn inside, the heavy doors creaked shut behind them. Dust motes swirled in the air while candle sconces on the foyer walls cast sinister moving shadows. The Checkered marble floor was coated in grime and debris while once-grand portraits hung faded and tattered beneath a coating of cobwebs.
As they navigated a narrow hallway, the rotten floorboards groaning loudly beneath their feet, Glenn continued spinning his macabre tales of tormented phantoms suspected to haunt these corridors. Strange whispers echoed all around them, sending prickles down their spines. Two women in the group yelped as they felt an icy unseen hand grasp their shoulders.
