A Collection of Creepypasta, Ghost Tails, and Scary Stories

Egris Melbourne

I moved into this tiny little town called Sweetonion out in Virginia, and that's where my story began. I got this sweet little fixer-upper house for real cheap. I think if I hadn't bought it, that house would have been condemned within two months. Now I know what you're thinking, and no, the house was not haunted. Not the house.
So I was walking back from the hardware store around six, at twilight, when the first stars just started coming out. That's when I met her. Egris. She was this pretty looking lady, with a fancy white and blue dress, sitting on a red brick wall. She had this white fur draped around her shoulders, and a sliver necklace with sapphires. She had a big hat with withe roses and blue feathers perched on her head, and a parasol in her lap, and nice looking white gloves.
I was curious, so I said hi. We talked for a bit, and I learned that her name was Egris, and that she lived on the other side of that wall she was sitting on. Then I continued on my way.
It was threatening to rain the next day, and I had a feeling that the roof of my new house was gonna be leaky, so I spent all day fixing that roof up as fast as I could. I was just getting off of the roof when the sky started dumping buckets, so I threw in the towel, got my umbrella, and walked to the bar.
I stayed pretty late, and by the time I was leaving the bar the weather was a full-blown desert storm with thunder and lightning and the whole shebang. The wind ripped my umbrella clean out of my hand, and I was downright drenched. As I was walking, I passed Egris, still sitting on that wall, despite the bad weather.
She had pulled her floppy white hat down firmly over her ears, and drawn that albino fur closer around her, and she was holding up that frail little parasol over her head. However, she did not seem at all affected by the storm. Her clothes seemed dry, and despite the wind, the little blue parasol did not blow in the wind. Not even the strands of black hair that had slipped loose from her french braid and out from under her hat blew.
Egris, seeing my predicament, let me borrow her little umbrella. "No, you keep it," I told her, but she said she just lived over the wall and I could give it back to her tomorrow.
So I took her little blue parasol, which weighed almost nothing, but also did almost nothing to stop the wind-driven rain. Egris hopped lightly over the wall and was gone, and I continued home. As I walked, I marvelled out how Egris with her fancy velvet dress stayed dry with so wimpy an umbrella.
The next day, I picked up Egris's silken umbrella and headed over to her wall. I walked along it, till I found an entrance, where I was surprised to see that the sign read "Sweetonion Cemetery." Just like the rest of the town, the cemetery was little and old. Me, being naive, assumed that Egris was the caretaker and started trudging toward the caretaker shack. But then I froze.
The tombstone was white and large, and very beautiful. It caught my attention immediately: "Egris Opal Melbourne II, beautiful wife and daughter, murdered for her fortune, May 2, 1893- June 4, 1916. Rest in peice." And on the tombstone was a carving of a face I knew all too well. Egris's face.
I left that accursed blue silk parasol at the foot of the tombstone, sold my new house, and hightailed it back to Carolina where I didn't know of any ghosts. But to this day, I am willing to believe in any ghost story anyone tells me. And look at this. It came in the mail yesterday, with no stamps or anything. It's an "I miss you" letter, from Egris Melbourne.