9 Ghosts Novels & Stories

"But it wasn't Liam. Liam is with us. He's been here the whole time." "You're ghosts," I said. The word felt stupid and small. "We're dead," Jeff corrected gently. "Ghosts are what the living call us to feel safe. We're not safe. Neither are you." The ice walls trembled. A crack ran from the ceiling to the floor. Snow sifted down. Somewhere above, the storm was digging deeper, searching. "Liam came back," I insisted. "He told me the others died. He told me he was the only survivor."

When I turned back around, I noticed a new note pinned to the table. It was the same familiar handwriting, but the strokes seemed to carry a hint of chill this time. "Squanderer." I froze, then started laughing out loud. So this ghost couldn't just cook—she was also a thrifty, budget-conscious woman. I liked that. I immediately grabbed a pen and wrote back, "Sorry, Ivy. I was just joking. From now on, let's stick to regular dishes. I won't bring up such ridiculous things anymore." I made sure to apologize sincerely.

That truth felt thin. When we crossed into Blackwater territory, I felt it immediately. The land knew. The forest carried the weight of what had been lost. Through the bond, Kaye felt it too. Her presence was steady beside me, but there was distance there now, a subtle separation that had not existed before Alaska. Not emotional. Existential. Ninety wolves. That was the number Scottie confirmed once we landed and the final counts were tallied. Ninety lives lost between the memorial ceremony and the assault. Ninety names that would never answer roll call again. Ninety spaces in homes that would never be filled.

Skylar shivered, thinking back to how the voices echoed forcefully in her head. "Those are lost souls" She answered but continued when Skylar raised an eyebrow. "Ghost has no purpose but to haunt while lost souls are struck between the dead and the living, their bodies are either dead or alive while their spirit goes around, searching for their bodies, they feel tormented till they do so" She explained, looking around. "So, I still do not wish to encounter anything dead, I suggest we start moving if we do not want to be among them" "We are to walk to the deepest part of the forest, call for her and she will come to us" Skylar nodded and started moving, with Shailyn holding onto her arm like

He stood straight with a serious face as he began his explanation. "Ghosts are the souls of dead humans who... well, aren't ready to rest in peace. They don't have powers. All they can do is move from one place to another without being seen. Well, not by everyone though." "But... if you're a demon, why then are you in this form?" She couldn't help but ask.

Amanda tried to copy her decency, she craned her neck, as she skimmed her carefully. Mercy tittered and gushed. “don’t worry I will teach you.” She crooned Angela could barely hear them, her eyes looked at the stairs, she barely paid attention at them. She waited for them eagerly. they walked in; Melina marched on her hounds making a sharp click-clack as they walked down the stairs. Mercy looked mortified as she spoke to them. ‘‘it’s my mom, she loves wearing hounds, you will get used to the sound.’’ Her face said it all; she was pissed with that atmosphere; it must be really eating her up.

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.

I reached out and pressed the radio button on the steering wheel. My voice was cold, cutting through the static. "Mason Vale, do you see a ghost in your mirror?" I said coldly into the radio. Those words pierced straight through Mason's last line of composure. His car hesitated for an obvious instant on the straight. Now. I smashed the throttle down. The car tore through the air and pulled alongside him. Ahead was a chain of fast S-curves. Seeing that I was about to pass, a vicious look flashed through Mason's eyes.

As the plane took off, I finally exhaled—like something heavy had snapped loose inside me. Phone on airplane mode. Eyes shut. Real sleep, at last. Sleep I'd been chasing for years. Soft music played in my ears, and for once, the past felt far away. "Hedley Hart, you're finally free," I whispered, voice shaking. For years, I'd lived in her orbit. Loved her so hard I disappeared. Even after ninety-nine rejections, I never thought about quitting.

After two years of working at Sensationalism, she still had not found the answer to her eyes. The prayer was still repeated. The host said that they have to pray three times for the game to work. This made Roxanne quieter. She knew she was the one who felt the coldest here. Ghosts appeared more in paintings, windows and walls. There was an oddity that intrigued Roxanne. The spirits here die for only three main reasons: hanging, drowning, and burning to death. Roxanne looked around the room for an oddity but to no avail. She also discovered that the spirits were getting closer and closer to her. “Hey, come back here. Standing next to this lady is very comfortable,” the maid spirit waved at th