Ghost Books For Adults Novels & Stories

And it seemed like they succeeded in establishing contact with her. The black clouds soon shrouded the sky leaving almost no star for stargazing. It was midnight now. Not to mention spirits get active at night only. This is what most people believed. According to them, ghosts get active at night. However, the question was ~ Why? The reason is because of the change in the senses of the people. During the daytime, people remain preoccupied with their work, distractions, conversations, routines that they don't even notice subtle happenings.

The remnants of someone’s bedroom that was long forgotten about crashed around us. We screamed in terror. I was beginning to fear the house was going to fall down on us. We continued to hear the sound of slamming and fighting happening through the house. I was clawing at everything to try and find an escape. Out of nowhere, a book dropped in my lap. It was old. It looked like it used to be cream colored with purple lace. This matches Gabrielle’s style. I saw a key lock. Suddenly, a key dropped from the binding of the book. It was a diary of some kind. I think Gabrielle’s spirit or someone wants me to have this. I shoved it into my bag and peaked out the door. I could tell it was still not s

“If we intended to scare you, you’d already be unconscious.” Maerin swallowed. Althea’s eyes sharpened with interest rather than fear. “I assume you’re here for inspection.” “Yes,” Puc confirmed. “And contingency preparation.” He gestured subtly, and his team fanned out with silent precision. Ghosts moved differently than the living. They didn’t walk so much as decide to be elsewhere. One moment they were beside a pillar; the next, their hand was sliding through stone, testing for hidden sigils, Veil-knots, or layered bindings meant to trigger later.

“You—You can’t—” Ghost moved fast, the cloth twisting around the man’s throat, not choking, just enough to remind him of the line between air and none. He leaned in close, his voice a whisper against the man’s ear. “Who sent you here?” The man tried to laugh, but it cracked into a cough. “You think—” Ghost pulled tighter, just for a heartbeat, then loosened again, letting the man drag in a desperate breath. His pale eyes never blinked. “You think I won’t take you apart piece by piece?” Ghost asked softly. “I buried men alive in Cambodia and listened while they begged me to let the dirt finish the job. Compared to that, you’re a child playing outlaw. So I’ll ask again.”

He stretched his hand for a handshake, and I took it. He has a firm grip, but his hands are cold, so fucking cold, just like Echo’s touch. “I am sorry to ask but are you a…” “Ghost? Absolutely.” He answered before I could even complete my questions, that explains why they can both see each other but does this mean that I can see all ghosts because I initially thought that I could only see Echo. “We met yesterday when she was sad and alone and we have been friends since then.” I feel terrible that I put her in that position, but I am glad she’s okay and she’s back. Adrian though, he is different. He is actually cooking, touching and holding things, how is that even possible.

His voice was weary as he said, "Alright, get some rest now." As we lay down together, I turned on my side to watch him, taking in his eyes, his nose, and his lips. Suddenly, a voice rang in my head, shattering the quiet night like a thunderclap. "That's not the real Sebastian! He died three years ago!" My breath hitched as I bolted upright and scanned the room frantically. "Who said that? Who's there?" There was no response, only Sebastian, who was startled awake by my scream.

I stood at the center of it all, and the silence around me felt wrong. Like it was waiting for something. From the corner of my eye, a figure shifted. A woman with half a face. Eyes melted, teeth still smiling. Behind her, more. Dead children. Men with their tongues cut out. A woman with a necklace made of severed hands. I turned slowly. More skulls. More ghosts. Something ancient was breathing against my back, and my lungs refused to pull in air. What the hell was this? Where had my body gone? Where had I gone?

My magic hovered at my fingertips, ready to stop time at a moments— “Boo.” A scream ripped itself from me, cracking off the treetops. Damon and Ghost stepped from the shadows like two creeping grim reapers. Damon’s brows vanished into his hair, which hung over his forehead in sweat-damp waves, while Ghost grinned like a cat that got the cream. “Sorry,” he held his hands up. “I couldn’t resist.” “Fuck you.” I panted, then spun around only to find myself half a centimeter away from a distorted shadowy face. “AGH!”

The beggar continued, "The way I see it, those ghosts are basically people with superpowers. They are driven by their own desires to hurt the living, while some have trouble controlling their powers after suddenly awakening to it." Her unexpected explanation actually enlightened Frank. Ghosts and hauntings notwithstanding, they were just people who could do what normal people could not—but they were fundamentally no different! Without hesitation, Frank rushed forward when a tall, well-rounded bald man appeared before he reached the graves.