Question

write a short ghost story.​

Answer 1

There was a student who was suddenly shifted in a hostel to complete her medical. Her name was pihu. The condition of the hostel was pathetic. She was a good at studies but however weak in maths. Near her room she had room no. 307 in which a girl lived, her name was pooja. She suddenly one night came at her room. She helped her with her maths and then of course! She became her best friend. Pooja always came at 2 am

. One night she didn't came. It was nearly 1 week when pihu didn't even saw her and then she asked for pooja to her roommate and then guess what......... She was dead two years before. She was died due to the pressure of studies. She was died at 2 am. She was a brilliant student as pihu and then at that night at 2 am pooja suddenly appeared in the pihu's room, pihu was like to be stubborn. Then unfortunately pooja killed pihu.

Hope you like it..! ❣️

Answer 2

Answer :

The little girl grabbed her broad white hat off of the glass table next to the door and stepped out into the fresh morning breeze. Emily tied the ribbon under her chin as she watched her father chop trees with an axe. She grabbed her basket filled with dolls and blankets and skipped out into the garden. She settled close to where her father was but was not aware that she was too close. She set out her dolls, sitting down on a small, light blue blanket.

“Emily can you please move just a bit, I don’t want you hurt, darling,” her father said, worried.

“No, father, I’m fine. I won’t get hurt,” Emily replied, not wanting to shift her things.

“Okay...” he said, not convinced. Emily continued to play with her dolls, unaware of her surroundings. Emily’s mother was watching from the window, inside the house. Emily’s father gave the tree one more chop as it started to fall. It was falling, in Emily’s direction. Her father jumped onto Emily to cover her, as the little girl’s mother shouted out in fear and anguish.

After the tragedy occurred, Violet, Emily’s mother grew delicate and frail from grief. She became more anti-social because of the death of her loved ones. She always blamed it on herself because she was supposed to protect her child.

The old lady would cry over and over several times a day. Her life was miserable. One day, after twenty years of being inside, she decided to go outside.

The frail, elderly woman grabbed her gardening gloves off of the little table that her daughter, Emily, used to keep her broad, white, floppy hat on. The woman was still living in the same house because she liked to know that parts of her loved ones were still there. She also liked to admire the garden where her daughter, Emily used to play with her dolls.

Violet walked outside and into the garden. She walked up to the log which was lying on the ground in the garden. Violet examined the tree stump where the tree had fallen from, twenty years ago. The axe which her husband once used was wedged in the top of the stump, at a fifty degree angle. She fixed her gaze back onto the log that was in front of her. The frail lady ran the tips of her fingers along the bark of the tree that was covered here and there with lichen.

Her finger tips reached the end of the log when Violet’s hand suddenly felt extremely cold. She flinched and looked closely at where her hand was. There was a pale, transparent hand that trailed off to where the middle of a forearm was. The arm became more clear and soon turned into a whole body. A ghost. The ghost was a girl, with a white ruffled dress. The dress went to the ankles, frills at the ends. The sleeves were long to the wrist, the tips all tousled.

Violet didn’t bother to look at the ghost’s face, as she was already too scared. Violet stepped back, startled at the sight of the little ghost. She quickly hurried inside and locked all the doors and windows. She paced around swiftly, not thinking straight. The ghost brought back memories of her young daughter. Suddenly she stopped, straightened out her yellow dress and neatly fixed her thin white hair into a tidy bun.

Violet unlocked the door and stepped outside. She walked around to where the ghost was and saw the little girl crying into her hands. She was sitting on the log with her feet crossed over. She was wearing little boots and her socks had satin frills on them. It was hard to see the girl’s face because of the broad, floppy, white hat she was wearing. Violet took a step closer, accidentally stepping on a stick, making a loud snapping noise. The girl looked up. Violet looked straight into the little ghost’s pale grey eyes and gasped.

“Emily? Is that you?” Violet asked, seeing the little girl’s beautiful face.

“Yes, Mother, it is me,” the little ghost said as she hopped off the log, wiped away her tears, and ran up to Violet to give her a warm hug.

“Oh, dear, I have been so lonely without you and your father. Please stay until I can.

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