Best Books About Haunted Houses Novels & Stories

“They don’t like it when I say I’ve already been there.” “Hard to go somewhere you don’t believe in.” He mused. “True statement.” She agreed. “I pulled a few books for you. Don’t feel like you have to all of them. Or even any of them.” “I appreciate this. I’m not sure what to think about all of this.” “The woman? The feelings you have? Or the gifts she has?” Giving her a wry smile, he asked, “Do I have to pick just one?” “Absolutely not.” Ciara shuffled the books and pulled one out, handing it over. “This one is about ghosts. I also pulled a few about white covens.”

“I did. I dreamed I bought that white house a few miles away. You were helping me renovate it and we found a hidden closet full of haunted items.” “Is that a good dream?” “The best. This house was haunted when I first moved in, you know. I find ghosts to be tragically compelling.” “You are so fucking weird, and I can’t get enough of it,” Lucas flips us over, pinning me between his body and the mattress. “Never in all of my years did I think I’d find someone like you.” “You must have been looking in the wrong places.” I bend my knees up, trying to be sexy, and then have to turn my head and cough.

Just muttered, “Feel free to browse.” I nodded and wandered. The silence was thick. Peaceful. I ran my fingers along the spines—mysteries, war history, sci-fi. None of it felt right. I turned a corner and found myself in a crooked, narrow aisle. A handwritten label above the shelf read: “Folklores, Myths & Things Best Left Alone.” Something about it made me shiver. I reached out and picked a worn, black-spined book: “The Blood and Bond of the Wild.”

“Sorry, we’re fresh out of miracles. You new in town?” “Yeah. I moved into the Varyn House.” His grin evaporated. “You’re living there?” “Temporarily,” I said. “Unless the roof kills me first.” He hesitated, then bagged my things and added a flashlight. “On the house,” he said. “For when the lights go out.” “Why does everyone keep saying that?” He didn’t answer. If ghosts could have favorite hangouts, Willow Creek’s library would be it. Old wood, creaky floors, the smell of dust and time.

"Where is she?" I shrugged. It was obvious to anyone that I was the only one with my computer screen still turned on and illuminating my face. His question suddenly sounded a little dumb. The next day, when Lacey appeared at the company, she was immediately stopped by Xavier at the door, who had waited up for her all night. He sniffed around Lacey like a bloodhound. Then, his expression turned dark almost at once. "You weren't at the company last night. And this smell didn't come from our home. Where have you been, and what did you do last night?"

He was lying face down, and face up, all at once. I live in that house now. I am the village "fixer." And every night, I listen to the scratching beneath the floorboards. I don't fear the ones that crawl. I fear the ones that wait. Because now I know that the most terrifying thing in the world isn't death—it’s a corpse that refuses to close its eyes.

Georgia - The silence in the cellar wasn’t real. It was alive—a cunning, creeping thing that licked at the walls like a living thing, testing for weakness. It wanted me to believe I was alone. That nothing existed beyond these damp stone walls and the single, rusted lock keeping me in this rectangular purgatory. But silence, like most everything else in this house, was a liar. If you were patient—if you sat in the darkness long enough, let your breathing slow to almost nothing, let your heartbeat settle into the rhythm of the dying—you would hear them.

she continued. I didn’t wait for further directions and headed that way. Sara was right. The library was crammed with books so rare that I didn’t even think they existed. I ran my fingers over them and stopped at the supernatural section. Werewolves. The variety of these books was astonishing. A Hidden History or Under the Full Moon. But the one that caught my attention was The Grim Howl.

She kind of looked like a demon. Carefully as not to startle her, he settled on the opposite side of their table and asked in a low voice, "What are you looking for?" The books she stacked on the table caught his attention. "'The Expanded History of Death'," he read the titles aloud, "'Funerals through the Ages'. 'Life after Death: the Existence of the Afterlife'. 'Creatures of the Night'. Are you trying to know more about Hellborns and the Underworld?" Calix was a lot of things, but unfortunately, he wasn't thick, Kat lamented. "Yes."

Uncle Roderick had always been very distracted. I reached for a picture of him and his brother with my mother. Both he and Papa had the same red hair that I had. My mother, on the other hand, always stood out from the family with her blond mane. I carefully ran my fingers over the photo. In the picture, the three looked so happy. At that time, none of them had known what horror would lurk in the future. Who would have expected to be killed by a couple of mutant dogs on their daughter's birthday?