Elliott O'Donnell

In opening this volume on Animals and their associations with the unknown, I will commence with a case of hauntings in the Old Manor House, at Oxenby.My informant was a Mrs. Hartnoll, whom I can see in my mind's eye, as distinctly as if I were looking at her now. Hers was a personality that no lapse of time, nothing could efface; a personality that made itself felt on boys of all temperaments, most of all, of course, on those who—like myself—were highly strung and sensitive.She was classical mistress at L.'s, the then well-known dame school in Clifton, where for three years—prior to migrating to a Public School—I was well grounded in all the mysticisms of Kennedy's Latin Primer and Smith's First Greek Principia.I doubt if she got anything more than a very small salary—governesses in those days were shockingly remunerated—and I know,—poor soul, she had to work monstrously hard. Drumming Latin and Greek into heads as thick as ours was no easy task.But there were times, when the excessive tension on the nerves proving too much, Mrs. Hartnoll stole a little relaxation; when she allowed herself to chat with us, and even to smile—Heavens! those smiles! And when—I can feel the tingling of my pulses at the bare mention of it—she spoke about herself, stated she had once been young—a declaration so astounding, so utterly beyond our comprehension, that we were rendered quite speechless—and told us anecdotes.Of many of her narratives I have no recollection, but one or two, which interested me more than the rest, are almost as fresh in my mind as when recounted. The one that appealed to me most, and which I have every reason to believe is absolutely true,[1] is as follows:—I give it as nearly as I can in her own somewhat stilted style:—"Up to the age of nineteen, I resided with my parents in the Manor House, Oxenby. It was an old building, dating back, I believe, to the reign of Edward VI, and had originally served as the residence of noble families. Built, or, rather, faced with split flints, and edged and buttressed with cut grey stone, it had a majestic though very gloomy appearance, and seen from afar resembled nothing so much as a huge and grotesquely decorated sarcophagus. In the centre of its frowning and menacing front was the device of a cat, constructed out of black shingles, and having white shingles for the eyes; the effect being curiously realistic, especially on moonlight nights, when anything more lifelike and sinister could scarcely have been conceived. The artist, whoever he was, had a more than human knowledge of cats—he portrayed not merely their bodies but their souls.

Elliott O'Donnell once claimed he saw a ghost, but regardless of whether he actually did, he certainly wrote about them, and his ghost stories continue to be widely read today.

The Banshee by Elliott O'Donnell

Unlike her twin brother, Jackson, Jessa struggled with her weight and very few friends. Jackson was an athlete and the epitome of popularity, while Jessa felt invisible. Noah was the quintessential "It" guy at school-charismatic, well-liked, and undeniably handsome. To make matters worse, he was Jackson's best friend and Jessa's biggest bully. During their senior year, Jessa decides it was time for her to gain some self-confidence, find her true beauty and not be the invisible twin. As Jessa transformed, she begins to catch the eye of everyone around her, especially Noah. Noah, initially blinded by his perception of Jessa as merely Jackson's sister, started to see her in a new light. How did she become the captivating woman invading his thoughts? When did she become the object of his fantasies? Join Jessa on her journey from being the class joke to a confident, desirable young woman, surprising even Noah as she reveals the incredible person she has always been inside.

The ninety-ninth time Jax Little broke my heart was the last time. We were the golden couple of Northgate High, our future perfectly mapped out for UCLA. But in our senior year, he fell for a new girl, Catalina, and our love story became a sick, exhausting dance of his betrayals and my empty threats to leave. At a graduation party, Catalina "accidentally" pulled me into the pool with her. Jax dove in without a second's hesitation. He swam right past me as I struggled, wrapped his arms around Catalina, and pulled her to safety. As he helped her out to the cheers of his friends, he glanced back at me, my body shivering and my mascara running in black rivers. "Your life isn't my problem anymore," he said, his voice as cold as the water I was drowning in. That night, something inside me finally shattered. I went home, opened my laptop, and clicked the button that confirmed my admission. Not to UCLA with him, but to NYU, an entire country away.

Tessa is the picture perfect student with good grades, flawless attendance and a charming smile. With one year left to graduate high school and a bucket list imposed by her best friend, her goal is pretty much the same with an extra addition--tick off every item on the cursed bucket list. But trouble comes knocking in the form of blue eyes, muscled body and an ego the size of her head. What happens when the school's bad boy, Benjamin notices her in a boxing ring?

Xavier Blackwood is the man every girl at my college dreams about at night, myself included, but I'd never let anyone know that. Standing at 6'4" with steel grey eyes, he might look like a walking dream, but he acts like a first-class jerk. Who would have thought that one night, while dragging myself home after doing double shifts at the diner, I'd be jumped by three men...only to have Xavier come to my rescue. Oh yes, Xavier bloody Blackwood saved my life...but the thing I saw, the CREATURE that ripped those men to shreds, wasn't the Xavier everyone thinks they know. He wasn't human... He was a wolf, a demon, a creature from myth, but before I had time to process, he knocked me out too. Humans that learn about the existence of werewolves have to die. ...There are NO exceptions. The Werewolf Xavier saved me, but now I am condemned to death. To make things worse, both Xavier and Axel claim I am their mate. ...This can't be good.

Eighteen days after giving up on Brendan Maynard, Jayde Rosario cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend UC Berkeley. Her father, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she' d always insisted on staying with Brendan. Jayde forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Brendan was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him. That night, she tried to tell Brendan about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Chloie Ellis, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Brendan' s tender words to Chloie twisted a knife in Jayde' s heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had protected her, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a diary and a love letter, only for him to explode, tearing the letter and yelling, "I'm your brother!" He had stormed out, leaving her to painstakingly tape the shredded pieces back together. Her love, however, didn't die, not even when he brought Chloie home and told her to call her "sister-in-law." Now, she understood. She had to put that fire out herself. She had to dig Brendan out of her heart.

Kasey Willow is just an ordinary teenage girl who is trying to get through school with no drama. Well, that can't exactly happen when you have the "Queen B" starting arguments with you, random arguments with a teacher who hates you and a badboy that most girls want, but cant have, after you. Jesse Collins is the badboy of the school. He uses girls and has a dark past that nobody knows of. When he meets Kasey and has her living with him within 1 week of knowing eachother, he starts to get the feelings he never wanted for a girl. He started to fall in love with her. And all he wanted was a little bit of love in return. - - - - - - - - - - - - - "I'm hot. You want me" he says. "Hell yeah I want you" I say and watched as he smirks. "See-" but I cut him off. "I want you to leave me alone" I smile falsely before walking in my house. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Kasey is convinced that he doesn't care whilst he convinced that she is just hurt and needs some love.

This ain't your typical, nerd falls for popular guy story or bad guy falls for the nerd or something like that, no. Mila Bennett, 17-year-old, sassy, friendly, feisty and the vice-captain of the dance team. Well, everyone except Hayes Miller, bad-boy and the captain of the basketball team in Henry M. Gunn High School, one of the best public schools in California. Rémy Miller, Hayes brother transfers to Henry M.Gunn high school. He's mesmerized by one girl, Mila. He wants no one but her. Hayes starts to catch feelings for the girl he never wanted, but the question is would Mila want a guy who has been a thorn in her flesh all these years? Or a guy that has always been there for her and cared for her. Which of the Miller brother's would it be? Hayes or Rémy?

Winter Monroe had planned out her last year at Cambree High. She would blend into the crowd, continuing to pass her subjects and stay away from trouble. Of course, all of that goes down the drain when Winter's mom drops the news that her daughter will be staying at her mom's friends place while her mom goes to Africa. Expecting nothing major, Winter was ready to continue her last year at high school, doing nothing except for what a good girl should be doing at high school. But what happens when she realises that the place that she will be staying for a year will be with four boys who basically rule Cambree High? When your staying with the four bad boys, you know that your life will be turned upside down in a second and thats exactly what Winter wasn't prepared for. Can Winter keep up with the four boys but also stay out of trouble or will the boys lead the trouble towards the good girl?

My phone glowed in the dark, showing the smiling face of Ethan Reed, the man I' d loved for years. Next to him, Tiffany Chen leaned close, radiating triumph. The caption below demanded "100 likes and we' re done!" The count was stuck at 99. My thumb hovered, then pressed. 99 became 100. It was over, just like he wanted. But then, Mark, his best friend and messenger, called. "Sarah? What the hell did you just do? Ethan is just messing around, he doesn' t mean it." I told him I was busy, packing for college abroad on a scholarship. He muffled a curse, and I hung up. The fight that led to this was orchestrated by Tiffany. She had "accidentally" ruined my university application designs, then cried to Ethan, who, of course, believed her. He accused me of jealousy, of being "needy." And then, his favorite threat: "Maybe we should just break up." I was silent, not with weakness, but with a leaden weight in my chest. He stormed out, slamming the door. That night, alone, I found his tablet. A voice memo to Mark played his casual, cruel voice: "Sarah is getting on my last nerve...I'm gonna have to put her back in her place. Maybe another public breakup threat? That always gets her crying and begging." I had been a fool, shrinking myself to fit his world. But hearing his utter contempt, it wasn't just pain-it was clarity. The fight was over. I had lost. But in that loss, I found myself.

The first sign of trouble was a pair of dirty, lace-trimmed socks, carelessly left on my kitchen counter by my rich, entitled roommate, Tiffany Gold. I was Chloe Miller, a scholarship student barely affording university, and she treated me like her personal maid, a role I was rapidly growing to resent. My attempts to manage the situation peacefully shattered when her football star boyfriend, Brett, burst in, drinking my juice and then assaulting me when I tried to leave, all while Tiffany feigned tears, painting me as the villain on social media. The university administration, influenced by Tiffany' s powerful family, sided with them, threatening my scholarship and dismissing my trauma, leaving me alone and branded a liar. How could my life be destroyed by a pair of socks and a fake cry for help? Mark, my boyfriend, an aspiring journalist, saw through their veneer. "This isn' t just a bad roommate," he told me, his eyes burning with journalistic fire. "This is abuse. We' re going to document everything." This was no longer just about survival; it was about fighting back, exposing the rot beneath the gilded surface of their privilege.