Category Archives: Ghost stories

The Legend of the Silver Galleon, a ghost story by Dolphin19

“Come on Mama! Grampa’s going to tell us the Silver Galleon story!” cried Jack.
“Now, I still think you’re too young for these ghost stories,” Mama said firmly.
“Lay off it Jess!” said Grampa, “And listen!”

I was a boy I was. No older than nine years of age. My father was a gifted sailor and had taken me down to the harbour to help prepare his ship (The Queen Mary) for his voyage to America that cold December morning. 1842 was a good year for sailing, my father had told me, because ships had recently undergone some industrial changes to make them faster and stronger.
“Papa! It’s too early! I’m extremely tired!” I moaned.
“Well you need to get used to it laddy. And anyway, Grandma and Grandpa can’t look after you forever! Your mother wouldn’t have wanted her only son to be lazy.” Papa advised in his thick Irish accent.
“Papa? What is that?” I asked but he didn’t reply.

He was transfixed: eyes staring in horror; mouth open hands rapidly shaking. It looked pure and solid like a silver goblet. At first, I thought Old Bob (a lively fisherman) was playing a little joke on me and Papa until I saw the name of the ship. Barely visible amongst decaying water reeds was the peeling silver-painted name of the ship – The Silver Galleon… I had never believed the legend about the galleon that haunted Belfast harbour from midnight to 5 am on the 6th day of every month on an even year. Until now.

I might not have believed the legend but I was terrified of it just in case it was true. The legend told how the Silver Galleon was sunk in a battle between the British and the Dutch in April 1670 with the loss of her entire crew. Since then, the captain and his doomed vessel had continued to sail these waters… The captain (John Silver) would lure children onto the ship and slowly (but brutally) murder them by taking their souls.

Papa turned on his heels to face me and grabbed my shoulders.
“Jeremy! Run! Far away from here and don’t ask questions either! Just run for your life and back home. NOW!” whispered Papa hurriedly. But it was too late. A hypnotising song pulled us onto the ship and locked us below the deck.

“Papa I’m scared. What are we to do?” I asked.
“We need to find a way out!” said Papa, “Follow me!”

For what seemed like hours, we walked until we came to a door Papa seemed to recognise. We went in and the door slammed shut behind us.
“Well, well, well! Look what we have here!” A booming voice echoed through the room, “After six years of toddlers, we have a boy and a man!”

A tall, silvery figure rose through the floor. He had a small silver beard and a long black coat with gold-stitched trims. We only saw him for a few seconds because father lunged for him and stepped on a loose plank.
“Papa!” I yelled as a razor-sharp axe catapulted towards him.

Time seemed to get slower as the axe flew through the air. All of my happy memories with him flashed before my eyes. The blade struck Papa’s head and he fell to his knees.
“Nooooooooo!” I cried, tears running down my face. I ran towards him just as he closed his eyes for the very last time…

Fifteen minutes later, I finally had the courage to get to my feet. My hands were covered in Papa’s blood. I screamed. A lot. Gradually, I bent down and eased the blood-covered axe from my father’s pale head. Lifting the axe above my head, I made my way towards the door and started trying to chop it down.

“Ha, ha, ha, ha! Are you trying to escape little boy? You’re going to have to try much harder than that!” sneered John Silver gliding through the wall and entering the room yet again. He had grey blood-shot eyes and a large gash covered most of his left cheek. His black boots hovered fine inches above the floor and a dark captain’s hat perched on his ghostly head.
“Grab him!”
I swung the axe one last time and the door came down. Running through the maze of corridors, I got extremely lost while dodging various ghosts from John Silver’s crew until I found a staircase going down… but what I saw there was something I would never unsee…

Terrified, I crept down the stairs. The bodies were piled untidily on top of each other. There were children, men and women. I saw, in a dark corner, the bodies of the crew had been shoved. Then I heard someone coming down the stairs. I looked around frantically but there was nowhere to hide.

“Jeremy? Wha’ ya doin’ down ‘ere?” asked the friendly voice of Old Bob, the fisherman.
“Bob! I’m so happy it’s you!” I cried.
“Where’s ya father?” Bob asked.
“Dead,” I replied, “They killed him…
“Wa’? No! I bet you’re playin’ a trick on me ya are! ‘E’ll jump out righ’ now ‘e will!” Bob said.
“No… I’m not.” I whispered.
“Well we really need to get out ‘er ‘ere we do,” Bob told me. “Follow me.

Bob led me back onto the deck and we were just about to leave the ship when John Silver and his crew leapt in front of us.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave!” John Silver cackled.
“Well then! We’ll make ya!” Old Bob said, fiercer than I had ever heard him before.

He grabbed the nearby sword of a crew member and started fighting John Silver.
Old Bob quickly swivelled his sword and sent John Silver’s flying.
“Well you may have won this battle but we have won the war!” cried John Silver, disappearing along with the rest of his crew.
“Come on Jeremy. We have much to discuss,” said old Bob. “Now, I know you have lost your father tonight, and this will be hard for you to get through, but your grandparents were also murdered…”

I remember crying and asking what I was to do. He told me that I could live with him. I agreed and I asked to go and pack my things. He told me that I could do what I wanted to do there and take as long as I wanted.

“And that is the story, or my story, of the Silver Galleon.” Grampa finished off.
“Wow! Grampa! That was a great story!” Jack gasped.

And to this day, the Silver Galleon continues to roam in Belfast harbour so you need to be careful… their next target might be you!

Posted in Ghost stories, Literacy, pupils, Year 6 | 1 Comment

The Legend of the Clorinda, a ghost story by Marmoset29

1st June 1785,1:04 am

The blue-green waves persistently hammered against the ship’s hull, hungry for revenge. Howling, the wind, which too was desperate for the death of these men, tore through the sails of Clorinda, leaving them ragged and of no use. Captain Andrew Tailor, notorious for his cruel leadership and lust for gold, banished people into the ravenous sea in an attempt to save his treasure.

Once he had started, he didn’t stop: the man, who was evidently wrong in the head, flung all sorts of things overboard — he even ruptured the galleon’s figurehead and thrust it into the sea below. But, if anything, this only made things worse: the ship had lost the majority of its weight, making it much more likely for it to capsize. Within five minutes, the ongoing screams of rage had come to an end: the boat had overturned.

30th April, 2006

“Finally! We’re here!” exclaimed Becca in her sing-song voice.
“From what you’ve been saying, it sounds like you’ve been here your whole life,” moaned Charlie.
“Says you!” snapped Becca and the two of them began to squabble bitterly.
“Oh! Shut up!” Ella complained but then too joined in the argument.

Charlie, a boy with glistening green eyes and chestnut brown hair, had six sisters and a brother yet his eldest five siblings were off at university leaving his stuck with Ella, Becca and his mum. Impatient, Charlie waited as the walkway was lowered onto the land. For five long hours he had been cooped up in his cabin and, finally, they had arrived in France. Seizing the opportunity to escape the clutches of his two elder sisters, the boy raced ahead. He was desperate to reach their holiday cottage first and excited to see the harbour: he had heard of the legend of Clorinda and was determined to prove it. Eventually slowing, he glimpsed the sea. Stretching out before him, the blue-green sea sparkled in the afternoon sun – it was breath-taking. However, he was not looking where he was going and the 11-year-old suddenly felt something holding him back. Confused and petrified, the terrified young boy soon realised what it was…
“H-h-hi … A-Andrew”, stuttered Charlie.

A year ago, Charlie had visited France on holiday and Andrew, the harbour master, and Charlie hadn’t got off to the best start. Andrew, an intimidating old man, had caught Charlie on several occasions sneaking around the harbour and, for some reason, especially at night, he was rather protective of it. Each time Charlie was caught, he would be threatened. If he disobeyed, he would be thrust into the sea, receiving a mouthful of salty water.

With a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his snow-white face, the ageing man gloated,‘Well, well, well. Look who it is ‘ere: Charlie Adams of England.”
His smirk as broad as ever, he continued, “In many ways I like an elephant I…”
“Don’t you mean I’m like an elephant?” Charlie noted.
“Dat’s what I said. Anyways, I’m like an elephant ‘cause I’m wrinkly AND I have a memory dat’s good AND I sink that I told you to stay away!” he said, emphasising the I’ms.
“You did,” the young boy replied, giggling nervously.
“So why ye’ ‘ere?” Andrew shouted after the boy as he scampered away.

Although he had been gone for what seemed like hours, no one had noticed his absence. Maybe it was just him but the clock read 1:50 and the boy could have sworn that he had departed from the ferry at that exact time. Had he imagined his conversation with Andrew? Surely not but, if so, something weird was going on here; something VERY weird. Confused by his own thoughts, he decided to get some rest: after all, it had been a long, tiresome journey.

Waking abruptly, Charlie rubbed his eyes. He had just had the most frightful nightmare and was bewildered by what it could mean. During the horrific dream, he had been somewhere – a boat perhaps. Someone was coming: their heavy footsteps thundering down the corridor and then… nothing. Racking his brain for any memory of what had happened next, the boy found nothing of interest. However, the clock had just struck 12-midnight. Thinking on his feet, Charlie had a sudden urge to visit the harbour: Andrew would surely be in bed, fast asleep, by now.

Avoiding the creaky floorboards, Charlie crept downstairs. The light was on. In two minds, the boy went upstairs as quickly as he dared. ‘If it’s Mum, she’ll be a while but Ella?’ he pondered. Suddenly, an idea clicked. ‘Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before?’ he thought to himself as he began to pick at the lock on the window.

After a few minutes, Charlie was stood in front of his house. Climbing down from his window, he had caught a scab and his knee was bleeding badly. Ignoring the pain throbbing through his left leg, he walked on, heading for the harbour.

As he reached the docks, he saw that he had obviously been mistaken — Andrew was there. It was almost as if he had been waiting for him. Startled, he ran and ran and ran. He continued running until he couldn’t run any more. Unaware of his whereabouts, the boy looked around. Wherever he was, it hadn’t been lived in in a while: wooden doors were rotting away; shop signs were torn; there was an eerie mist hanging around the houses. Troubled, the boy felt himself hastily rooted to the ground — unable to move.

Out of nowhere, Andrew appeared with a sinister grin on his face.
“Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted to do this and now I can,” he said with great satisfaction. Suddenly, he withdrew something from his pocket and, in an instant, Charlie fell, lifeless, to the floor.

No one knew what happened to Andrew after that. No trace was found.

Posted in Ghost stories, Literacy, pupils, Year 6 | 1 Comment

Alex’s last birthday, a (scary!) ghost story by Zebra3

Every day, Alex would escape from the bullying and block out his constant muttering to sit by the spot where he’d last seen his father. He would hope to see Father’s plump face reflected in the water as he thought about him but memories faded just like Father had.

Alex’s frustration and anger delved deep into his lonely heart and showed him his last day with Father. Precious memories like this were ruined by his overreacting emotions. The psychiatrist had said that he should go to a place where he felt special every day. Well, this was it — the harbour.

On Alex’s birthday, he would venture there, waiting for Father to take him home. No matter how much he longed for this, he knew he’d never see him again. He always stayed until a recognisable high moon lingered in the sky — which was usually about 12 o’clock. This time he didn’t go back as he felt the need to stay. His brain didn’t fight the urge: it was like something was tugging him towards the water for some peculiar reason. He closed his eyes. A vision lit up his mind: a ship; a letter; moaning souls — as well as his father. He opened them. The ship — the one from the vision — appeared. As soon as he saw it, he fainted onto the cold, hard concrete.


Awoken by an alarming thudding sound, Alex sat up, taking in the change of scenery. Cautiously, he turned around to see the rest of what appeared to be… the sea-bed! Questions, thoughts all filled his mind… as well as the vision.

Nervously, he closed his eyes to re-watch the puzzling images. Watching it again didn’t calm his mind; in fact, it made his head throb persistently and his eyes water. He looked down, trying to set his mind straight and answer his questions scientifically. But we all know there were no scientific answers! In the palm of his hand, he realised there was a sopping wet letter. It was addressed to Alex. Opening it carefully so as not to tear the fragile paper, he discovered the words, “…the ship, go!” It was from Father! Even more puzzled, he fainted again.

Almost drowning, he wisely decided to float to the top of the water. Where had the letter come from? Why was he down there? What did the vision mean? Enough! He realised he had to listen to the brief letter even if it wasn’t from Father as his life couldn’t get any worse… or could it?

Above the water, he gasped for fresh air then wondered how he’d stayed under water longer than one minute as he’d never been an excellent swimmer. Something strange had obviously happened that night but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

He looked around for something that might help him understand this weird phenomenon. To the right, he saw many people leaning over the barrier gaping at a vast cargo ship from the 1850s. As Alex looked at the immense crowd, he was struck to see that none of them were taken aback by this sight. The ship was clearly haunted: glowing rusted port-holes that every now and then revealed ghostly figures; the torn sails that imaged a haunting face; sudden bangs that shook the boat like a tsunami. Deciding to ignore these facts, he ventured towards the ladder that led to the rotting poop-deck.

The ship swayed and the pitter-patter of footsteps didn’t help when he reached the top. Like a radar, Alex picked up all the movement around him: spirits brushed against his sallow cheeks and phantoms shoved him as if to say, “Leave, you intruder!” Something about these eerie presences unsettled Alex, as it would anybody. Realising this was a bad idea, he ran to the ladder which he’d made his earlier entrance on. However, the ship thrust forward sending Alex sliding into what appeared to be a run-down storage room encasing a dark figure. Horror overtook his face as he tried to reach for the door.

“Alex!” called out the figure. “I thought I’d never see you again!” Alex didn’t recognise the man yet his voice comforted him. Uncovering his face from the dark hood freaked Alex out; it was Father!!! Alex spiralled onto his knees crying happy tears. Before he could recover…whoosh! Without warning, ‘Dad’ lunged forwards and inserted an odd-looking dagger in the heart of Alex! This was all so confusing. Alex cried out in horror and fell. He was dead. As this happened, a weird-looking glow flew out of his body. A soul. ‘Dad’ gulped it down and then stepped into Alex’s body like a suit. The squelching noises would make any unfortunate soul heave. He walked out of the room in his new skin…

Two moons later, ‘Alex’ sat grinning on his father’s bench with stitches running through the middle of his face and with one of his eyes gouged out. He was alive…

Posted in Ghost stories, Literacy, pupils, Year 6 | 1 Comment

Harbour at Halloween… a ghost story by Lemur24

After moving house for Dad’s job, I had been told a few strange legends about the harbour. I, David, am naturally curious about these tales and about Dad’s late-night job: I try anything to get him to take me. I fetch his battered blue and white sailor’s coat from the old days; his sailor’s hat — from the old days too; and his dusty old lamp, hoping for a response which is more than, “Thank you. Please help your mother.”

Every year, my curiosity increased and, on this certain Halloween, I couldn’t wait a single day longer to find out. I wasn’t concentrating on anything at school: I was getting things like 0/20 on my spellings and 0/100 on my times tables test; I didn’t get any break or lunch because I had to catch up on my work. I was concentrating so badly, nothing I even said made sense.

Begging my mum non-stop all day, I waited until I was finally allowed to go trick-or-treating. I knew my dad was working so I raced to the harbour. I didn’t quite know where he worked but I was pretty sure it was the harbour. Running as fast my legs could carry me, I ran until it was in my view. I was beginning to consider turning to go back home but I decided I wouldn’t. Nearing the harbour, I silently tip-toed because I didn’t want to be seen. I saw a man. It was my dad…

My brain was yelling,
“Go back! Go back!” as my panic grew but I stood up to my fear and took another step. It must have been too loud as Dad sharply swivelled around. He whispered,
“David! Wrong Choice!” as he seized me by the arm. No matter how much I squirmed, I couldn’t get free.

My dad whistled a tune I recognised and a ship emerged. I could just make out the two words, “DARK APPOLLO’. As soon as it had appeared, I could tell it was haunted: a green substance leaked from the stern; no driver; eerie noises. The harbour was covered in slime as it touched it.
“You’ll have to come on board son,” my dad whispered.
Shutting my eyes tightly, I hoped that it was a dream. I couldn’t believe how bad it had got in a day.

As I awoke an hour later, I guessed it was a dream. Where I was sleeping felt exactly like my soft, comfy bed. Cautiously, I opened one eye, then the other. Although I was on my bed, I was obviously not in my room. Out of the window, I caught a glimpse of sand and plenty of water. Hoping it wasn’t the ship, I ventured closer to the window and, in the process, got stuck. As I turned around, I noticed a chain tying my wrists together. Climbing out onto the top deck, I noticed I was drowning. Knowing I had to get down, I knew I was not prepared.

Staring downwards, I looked for the hatch; it was locked. The tangled chains grabbed at me but I expertly dodged them. Seeing a beautiful glow, I swam, remembering to stay aware of my surroundings. Quickly, I snatched the key but a chain caught me. All the chains swung me around as if playing catch. They accidentally threw me overboard. I seized my chance. Swiftly, I swam to the lower deck, opened it and jumped inside. The trap-door clicked shut — I was safe.

Hoping it still worked, I checked my watch. It hadn’t even been a minute! I knew it worked as it was ticking away. I had had enough for today, I thought, so I decided to go to sleep for the second time on this awful boat.

A few hours later, I awoke. On the foot end of my bed, I noticed a book. It was the book of legends my father had given me. My hand grabbed it, Carefully, I flicked through the legends until I read, “DARK APPOLLO LEGEND”. Scanning through it, I read the part, ‘How to destroy the boat’.

Twenty minutes later, I had a new plan.

I put a life-jacket on so that I could survive. (As you may have suspected, I couldn’t swim.) Carefully, I read the ‘destroying the boat’ part again and followed every action. It worked. Slowly but surely, I floated up. As I did it, I recognised my mistake…

My mistake was that I had freed the souls; I knew I would be killed. As I arrived home, I saw a sign out of the corner of my eye. It read ‘DESERTED HOUSE FOR SALE’. My family had died…

I went to the police station to find out what had happened to my family. I saw a WANTED poster. It said, ‘Smuggling children onto a boat, CAPTAIN PETE EDWARDS’. It wasn’t my dad but as I noticed that, I wondered how he knew my name. Next to it was a MISSING poster. It said, ‘For our beloved David’. They had all missed me.


Although it seemed like only 50 seconds to him, fifty years later, on Halloween, David died with a headache and, at the foot of his bed, was the book of legends his father had given him…

Posted in Ghost stories, Literacy, pupils, Year 6 | 1 Comment

The Horror of Indanuary… a (scary!) ghost story by Eagle5

Tonight’s very scary and mysterious story comes from Eagle5… Be warned!

Curious Harry was 10 years old today on 1st January, 4:00am 1942. Every year on that date, he would hang around Stone Bridge Harbour gazing into the endless, deep blue ocean. He had done it every year. Why? I’ll tell you why.

Harry didn’t want to go to school because his teachers would just make him feel bad: they would just say,
“Another year wasted Harry! You are so thick!” Then he saw a hidden path. The adventurous boy followed it until he found himself in a small harbour. He looked at his watch — it was 4:00 am. First, the tragic noises came. Now he was ten, he was more used to them: a scream of horror; a bang of pain, a squelch of terror — none of them scared him anymore. Peeking over the harbour wall, the tortured boy watched the still water closely. A mysterious boat emerged. The ship was clearly haunted: torn sails; unstable creaky floorboards; a glowing blue substance spreading by the minute. Harry felt bored of watching the ship from behind the wall so he felt the need to get closer. Closer and close he went until…

The stupid boy fell right into the trap of Indanuary. A faded, ghostly man had gripped him so tight that he could barely breathe. There was only one way to escape: his power! Never had he had to use this power before, but the time had come. This malicious man would no longer be alive — at least that’s what he thought…

Getting ready to unleash his power, Harry realised that, if he waited until he was inside the Indanuary, the whole of it would be destroyed!

The interior of the ghostly ship was dark and gloomy; he was starting to get a little nervous. Above the cramped space was a minute hole; that’s where he’d aim his shot. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Go! His fingers tingled, sparks flashed then whoosh! The blue and silver lightning blew out the hole. Harry was free!

Carefully, but quickly, Harry swam to shore. If he hit one more time, the ship would be destroyed once and for all. However, Harry was unaware that the ghost had been trapped there in 1909 by Sir. Robert Davids; everyone thinks that it’s a myth but this proves it’s real.

This time, Harry went from 3. 3, 2, 1! Again, his fingers tingled and sparks flashed, then whoosh! Indanuary was destroyed! For a moment, there was a celebration —until the ghost appeared.
“Ma ha ha ha! You idiot! Fell right into my trap didn’t you boy? I’M FREE!” he claimed.
“What have I done?” shouted Harry. “What have I done?”

One year later

The young boy still lived in horror ever since because, every day, he’d watch the news in the morning and, every time, there would be someone dead. The story would always be, ‘went to bed then they were dead’.  Harry finally decided that he didn’t deserve to live. On the 1st January 4:00 am he went to Stone Bridge Harbour and, with a dagger in his hand, he killed himself….

(Indanuary is ghost for 1st January!)

Posted in Ghost stories, Literacy, pupils, Year 6 | 1 Comment

Grandad’s Ghostly Tales by Toucan16

“Sammy! They’re here!” called Jill as an excited knock filled the air of the cosy room.
“Hello Grandad!” shouted Alice and Luke, charging carelessly into the lounge. Every Saturday morning, the children would visit their grandad begging for a story. Perched on the edge of the sofa, they listened intently to their grandfather as he told them fascinating tales…

“So then. In the depths of Timeouth, there was a young homeless boy living on the streets. He was searching frantically for scraps of food for supper. With little clothing, the boy was cold: blue lips; shaking hands; hunched over. Still adjusting to homeless life, it was difficult the young boy as it would be for anyone without a home. He trudged across a misty harbour with only the gleaming moon shining upon him to light his path to safety.
Suddenly, a peculiar-looking man grabbed the hungry boy’s arm firmly.
“Ya’ll don’t wanna be out ‘ere in the dark young lad. What’s ya name?”
James stuttered,
“Er, James, sir. I was just hoping to find food for the evening.”

The air seemed to get cold: trees swayed in the breeze; warm breath streamed up the air; frost, like a blanket, covered the town. The uneasy mood made the stubbly hairs on James’ neck stand on end. Then a haunted boat arose from the water. It smelt a bit fishy. Arora…”

“Sammy! Stop scaring them!” interrupted Jill furiously.
“I’m not.” chuckled Sammy.
“Please carry on Grandad. Honestly! We’re not scared!” exclaimed Luke.
“Anyway, where was I?” continued Sammy.


“Floating on top of the dark waters, the shop awaited its next victim. The curious boy was determined to explore. Escaping the man’s tight grip, James ran away without taking a glance behind him.
“Wait! Get back here now!” called the dazed man.

Cautiously taking a chance, James ran into the mysterious boat, hoping he’d lost his pursuer. Under the bed was James’ hiding place.

‘Bang!’ The door he’d left wide open was tightly shut. Not daring to breath, Hames watched as fresh footprints were made in the dust. But, no feet could be seen, After a while, the frightened boy’s eyes were closed; they weren’t going to open any time soon.
The light was bright through the shattered windows. Something wasn’t right. Then James realised the bed was tipped upside-down. He had been found by someone — or something.

Brave enough to look about, James followed the dusty footprints leading him to an ancient chest. He opened it. Inside was a book which was also very old: tattered seams; mountains of dust; worn leather. Feeling pressured to open the book, James delicately brushed its coat of dust away. Opening the book quietly, James read ‘Treasure hunters were on the seas during a terrible storm. They were all washed overboard. Now their spirits will remain on this ship forever and whoever enters shall never see the light of day again.’

James shut the book with an almighty thud. The words were stuck in his head.
“Is it true?” James asked himself, hoping for an answer.
“Yes. Unfortunately, every word is true I’m afraid.”
James had noticed a transparent figure, listening in.
“It happened to me twelve years ago.”

Just then, the boat shook and water was filling the room as the ship submerged onto the sea-bed.”

“Wait! What happened to James?” Alice cried, sounding confused.
“Well. Some say he died when the ship went back underwater; others think he’s still alive and stuck on the boat. Now, like the legend says, his ghost is trapped on the boat forever.”

The wind was blowing hard and an old newspaper became stuck on the window.
Its headline read, ‘Local homeless boy, James Smith, disappears!’…

Posted in Ghost stories, Literacy, Year 6 | 1 Comment

The Ghost ship by Iguana24

It was a Tuesday night when a small boy called Tom was walking to his friend Josh’s house as he normally did on Tuesdays. Suddenly, he witnessed a dark, green unnatural glow surfacing from a puddle. The closer he got, the more he thought he was doing something wrong. From the corner of his right semi-brown eye, he gazed upon movement and, before he could turn his head, he was unconscious.

When he awoke, he was sitting before a bar table opposite an old man. The old man had was most untidy: crumbs in his white hair; mud up his long, skinny arms; rotting yellow teeth.
“You are gonna come with me smoothly or I’m going to have to use brute force.”
Tom had stopped to consider the options when the church bell slowly chimed 10 pm. The old man started to murmur quickly now,
“Quickly now. We haven’t got all day now have we?”
“I-I-I don’t know sir,” Tom answered back very fast.

The old man dragged Tom to the harbour and stood grasping a lantern in his right hand and Tom in the other. Tom glared at the old church on the edge of town. It was now 10:27 pm.
“Only a few minutes left now boy,” exclaimed the old man.

Out of the mist emerged a ship. It was clearly haunted: ripped sails covered in mould; a ghost-like aura shrouding the boat; black substances emerging from all corners of the ship. Tom yelled out in horror but no one was around to hear him…

“How are you Mat?” emerged a voice from inside the cabin.

“I’m fine. How are you Commoror?”
“Better than great.” A ghostly grin found its way on to the face of the horrible woman who was speaking.

“Climb aboard child! Welcome to the Black Stallion!” enthused the lady who seemed to be being referred to as Commoror. Millions of floating substances formed the shape of five pale bodies. As each ‘man’ said their name, Tom suddenly felt like he would never see his home again…
“Tim Tradebottom.”
“Jeff Oddbod.”
“I’m Frank Mystery.”
“Combaias Pumuca.”
“And I, I am Will Stern – bravest of them all!” He then seemed like he had remembered something: he turned to face Cummoror’s eyes that had been burning into his back.
“I am the bravest here!” reminded Captain Commoror.
Suddenly, Cummoror threw money at the man and, before long, snatched Tom. The fierce crew sailed away, clutching Tom tightly when, unexpectedly, the boat tipped over but not into the ocean; it was like a flip-side of the world – the ‘upside-down’.

The journey went on for a while with little food or water. Beyond the snow-capped mountains, a pink glow welcomed the morning sun.
“Land at 6 o’clock!” yelled Frank.“We’re here!” Cummoror called as the morning sun lit up her eyes. As they journeyed further towards the cursed palace, Cummoror continued, “Welcome to Halalarge!”
“This is where you will mine for gold,” said Tim Trodgebottom. Tom then refused but got forced out of the haunted boat. Anxiously, he turned his head to see another boy who told him his name was Holl Tombaias. Tom and Holl were to work together for three years with two hours sleep per night.

Tom and Holl soon became friends and one day (Day 25) they decided to trust one another fully and hatch an escape plan… So, they searched. Instead of sleeping, they searched. For a way to go.

On Day 29, they saw something… some kind of animal… a squirrel maybe? If it could get in, then they could get out! In fear of being caught, they silently followed it… After 52 minutes of stalking their prey, they saw it… the Void – some kind of portal. They called it ‘Operation-get-into-the ghost-portal’ (or O.G.I.G.P. for short).
“Oi! You!” called a familiar voice.
“It’s William. If we get back to the mine now, he may not have seen our faces,” whispered Holl as they ran as fast as they could. As they turned a corner, Jeff Oddbod was there clutching his right fist in his left hand.
“Turn and run!” commanded Tom but it was too late: they were already surrounded.

Both unconscious, the two boys were carried to an unknown location by the pirates and left tied up with only one bottle of water between the two. Tom doused himself with the water making himself just able to slip out of the ropes and, without hesitation, he set Holl free too.

They walked up to the cellar door and slid it open. Then, the two mischievous boys saw the void. Without his mind being in control of his body, his fleshly vessel acted and leapt off the edge of the wooden plank and into the void. Holl soon followed.

Back in the human world, they knew that no one would believe them so they each went their separate ways, keeping in touch and occasionally meeting again. Tom went home to be hugged by his mother. Holl had no home as he had been gone for two years before Tom so Tom’s mum let him stay in the comfort of their home. The next day, Holl and Tom ventured to the harbour… Luckily, there was no ghost ship. A flicker of light found its way into Tom’s eyes and they went on with hope.

Posted in Ghost stories, pupils, Year 6 | 1 Comment

‘Treasure-hunting…’ A ghost story by Lizard16

Another scary ghost story in our series based on The Mysteries of Harris Burdick…

On one faded night, Mark (10) and James (67) were strolling down the street casually. As they stopped to stare at the magnificent ocean, the full moon peered over the clouds. Without gasping, James and Mark noticed a very peculiar ship appear out of the gloomy fog.

The ship was horrifying: ragged sails; creaky floorboards; its stern disintegrating into the mist.

Mark was full of excitement: he imagined the ghostly boat was full of shimmering gold —he could be the captain and sail the beautiful seas. He couldn’t wait! On the other hand, James was very cautious. He wondered what tragic, evil business could be on that shadowy ship! After years of being a sailor, James knew this boat could not be trusted.

Grabbing Mark in a vice-like grip, James, the old man, tried to persuade him not to go into the wrecked haunted ship.

Without making a noise, Mark grabbed a paddling boat and paddled to the abandoned ship. As he got on deck, an icy gust of wind ran down Mark’s spine. The deserted ship was very quiet but the smell of the ship was rancid!

As Mark carefully edged forward, he heard the battered floorboards creak incredibly loudly as he began searching downstairs. Amazed, Mark couldn’t believe his eyes. He saw an astonishing collection of treasure: sparkling diamonds; shimmering gold; beautiful gems glimmering in the moonlight!

As he went to grab a bag full of diamonds, a creepy ghost appeared through a wall…

Suddenly, the ghost began to attack Mark as he fled from the threatening figure. James was waiting: very bored; hand on chin; groaning and very quiet.

The ghost was very frightening: you could see its bony rib cage. All of a sudden, the transparent figure grabbed Mark in a tight firm grip.

Strangely, the peculiar figure disappeared! But, Mark began to hesitate and, the next thing he knew, his wandering body was strolling down the street with his grandad…

One entire year later…

On one faded night, the ghost in Mark’s body and the ancient man, James, were strolling down the street casually. As they stopped to stare at the beautiful ocean, a haunted wrecked ship appeared out of the fog.

Then, James’ cursed memories came back to him and asked, “Wait. If you went on that peculiar ship last year, can you go on it this year?”

The ghost had no choice and went on that weird ship. Mark wanted his soul back! It was very boring on the ship now. All of a sudden, his ears twitched; he could sense someone walking on top of the deck. As he peeked over the ragged sails, he saw his peculiar, selfless body wandering around the deck. Being as slow as possible, Mark sluggishly crept behind his possessed body and pounced at the threatening ghost controlling his innocent soul.

Ten minutes later…

Mark was back in his amazing body and he was quickly sailing away from the deserted ship!

James noticed Mark as he fled out of the ship and asked,

“What took you so long?”
“Ghosts!” Mark remarked.

Posted in Ghost stories, Literacy, pupils, Year 6 | 1 Comment

The 128-year-old man, A ghost story by Mongoose29

Tonight’s ghost story to enjoy is by Mongoose29. Remember to read something calming before bed…!


My name is Zack. I am 128. Now I know you’re thinking that’s impossible but it’s not and I will tell you how…

The loud fair music meant you couldn’t hear anything – even the cries coming from Zack. He was lost and was wandering towards the harbour… In the background, the music dimmed and you could only hear the sound of the calm waves receding onto the beach. Zack sat in a cold stone corner weeping when an old crackling voice came from behind him.
“What this matter?” the mysterious figure groaned. He obviously couldn’t speak properly.
“What this matter?” the man said again — louder this time. Zack looked up, tears running down his saddened face.
“I – I lost my family,” Zack stuttered.
“Come withit me,” the old wrinkled man said. “I can helpen you.”

Their feet crunched on the crumbling gravel path. The man was strange, Zack thought. He wore a long maroon robe with bright yellow stars on covering long  fingernails that had dirt concealed tightly under them. All of a sudden, the man stopped. A large green boat sat proudly in the water but it didn’t look real: it had a luminous ghostly effect; no sails; and a tall, thin, transparent man perched on the deck. Could it be a ghost ship? Zack would have to find out…

Slowly, the strange man held up his glowing lantern and pointed to the boat.
“Mis comes yup edry year,” he grumbled. “I b’live ghosts live thon sit,” he said. “I’ll help ye find tor parentes if ye clum on this with me.” Zack quickly agreed and they walked to where the boats were docked.

Carefully, the man clambered onto a small fishing boat that looked cracked and old.
“Get thon,” he beckoned to the boy so Zack climbed happily on. “Call I Fredrick,” the old man said joyfully.

Silently, the small boat glided towards the moon-lit ship as Fred chatted to Zack about the ghosts he believed lived on it. With force, the small boat collided against the ship, causing it to crack in two. Luckily, Fredrick and Zack had already taken hold of the ladder and climbed it to the top. Suddenly a booming voice echoed around the ship,
In fear, Fredrick and Zack ran into the ship’s library.
“THERE IS NO ESCAPE!” the voice boomed again.

They froze as a pale white figure entered the room. Without making a sound, Fredrick and Zack crouched down desperate to hide.
“I SEE YOU!” the voice yelled in a taunting tone. “GIVE ME ALL YOUR SOULS!”

Slowly, the figure approached them and grabbed them both.
“I will make a deal with you,” the thing said quietly. “If one of you gives your soul, I will let the other go,” he whispered like before.
“Ith will,” Fredrick announced bravely.
“The deal has been made,” the voice said.
All of a sudden, Zack was back at the harbour — but he was alone. The boat was gone…


Many years later, Zack set out on a journey to find his old friend Fredrick. He had managed to find his family after the boat incident and he was determined to find Fredrick, or his soul and body, so he could bring him back to life. Zack ran down to the harbour; the ship was there! Quickly, he grabbed a small boat and set off towards the ship. The remains of the fishing boat still floated in the water and, on the ship, lay Fredrick’s skeleton…

Zack threw the old tattered skeleton onto the boat. All he had to do now was the destroy the ship and get Fredrick’s soul. The captain was asleep for Zack could hear his deep snores coming from the bedroom. Quietly, he snatched Fredrick’s soul off the shelf. Suddenly, he had the perfect idea: he would ram the boat into the harbour destroying the captain. When he reached the steering wheel, he turned it without thinking and took out a chunk of the boat.

Zack could hear the deep roar echoing around the boat again,
Zack rammed the boat again, breaking it in two but, at the same time, a cold, wet hand grabbed him and put his soul in a jar… Soon, Zack’s family found two skeletons and buried them in their garden. They were Zack’s and Fredrick’s.
120 years later, a young boy was playing football by the harbour and found two glass jars with bright blue glowing balls in them. He brought them home and, pretending it was magic, he played with them outside and accidentally dropped them. But he didn’t know one of the souls belonged to Fredrick and the other soul belonged to Zack. As well as that, the boy’s house was Zack’s old house where he and Fredrick had been buried.

Ready to be reunited with their bodies, the souls floated up in the air whilst the skeletons lifted up out of the ground. The blue glowing balls lowered into the bodies. Next, the skin started covering the skeletons like a machine building toys. Finally, Zack and Fredrick awoke, lying on the grass.

So that is my story of how I’m 128. At the moment, I live with Fredrick and the boy (Joe).

Posted in Ghost stories, Literacy, pupils, Year 6 | 1 Comment

The Devious Dangerous Devil Returns, a ghost story by Flamingo17

Tonight’s scary story!… You have been warned!!

Last creepy Halloween night, an old spooky man in a long black coat was walking towards a box. It wasn’t an ordinary box; it had the devil in it. But how, you ask, did a young man, who was ten years old, trap the devil in the box? He was an angel and his name was Alec. Stupidly, the old man opened the box. He released an unstoppable force before him and signed a deal. The deal was that he would collect all the children in the world every Halloween so he did or else he would be forever alone.

Next Halloween, the frightening man went with 15,000 children with him to the haunted boat. It had ripped sails because of all the fights he had with them. But the devil was still not happy: he wanted the child who had trapped him — Alec — because he wanted to take his soul so that he wouldn’t be able to trap him again.

The dark-hearted Devil threw the poor ancient man into the freezing water than yelled, “Come back when you have found the child!”

“Never then,” muttered the man in anger, swimming to shore.

As angry as the man was, he still searched for the meddling angel (Alec). Although Alec didn’t know that the Devil had escaped, he did notice that children were disappearing by the second. So, Alec decided to go to the docks to investigate. The man caught his eye because he had children with him. Curiously, he followed the strange man onto the haunted ship. A green mist swirled around the ship; strange substances dripped off the sails and slithered through the creaking floorboards. He noticed a large cannon pointing straight at him; he knew something was wrong…

Before he knew it, he got shot out of the sky like a sack of potatoes.

“Brilliant!” screeched the Captain in joy. Everything went pitch black.

Alec awoke, thinking it was all a dream, but sadly for him it wasn’t. He was tied up with freezing chains holding his wings back so that he couldn’t fly away and warn all the other children. Before him, he saw a strange figure: it was the mysterious man from the docks. He leant down and whispered, “Sorry!”. He was so close to his face that all Alec could smell was the stench of his breath. He handed him the box and silently started to unchain his wings. Alec stretched with confusion.

Curiously, he asked, “Why are you helping me?”

The man answered, “I’m sick and tired of him bossing me about all the time so I have chosen you to help me to stop him from achieving his devilish plans.” Pausing for what seemed an eternity, he seemed to be in a trance. “I know you don’t trust me but please, help me save the world from this evil spirit upon us.” Alec, feeling very confused, replied cautiously, “I will help but this must be our secret. Only we have to know about this.”
They agreed to help each other. After a long time thinking and planning, they agreed on a very sly plan to take down the devil so he would never cause any harm again.

The man collected as many children as he could with Alec in the middle of the crowd. They quietly entered the ship. From the depths of the ship, the devil shouted, “I know you are on board my ship but where is Alec?” The man cowardly replied, “He is here waiting for you.”

The devil eerily appeared out of nowhere and laughed an evil cackle. Alec silently flew up like a graceful bird. They flew at each other, stopped suddenly and bowed, then battle commenced. It was a crazy tournament between the two great leaders, the good and the bad. As they tired, the Devil’s powers weakened. Alec knew that this was his opportunity to open the box, to trap the devil once and for all. Alec effortlessly opened the box in one giant swoop, like a bird and its prey. As the box lid closed, the Devil shouted, “I will return! Alec, beware!”

Alec flew off with the box in hand and threw the box into the distance. But he didn’t notice something: the ancient old box was cracked and a tail of red mist had escaped …

Posted in Ghost stories, Literacy, pupils, Year 6 | 2 Comments