Ghost Chapter Novels & Stories

“I was in and out of sleep.” “Thoughts of Titanic?” He turned to face her now, and he was sitting more closely than she thought prudent. “Sometimes,” she shrugged. “Most of my ghosts reside elsewhere.” He closed his eyes and turned his head away. “I’m sorry, Meg.” “I don’t need your sympathy either,” she reminded him, though her tone was just as innocent as his had been. “I suppose not,” he admitted, turning back to face her. “But you have it just the same.”

Christopher and Zyter exchanged a fierce glance, their determination unshakeable. Suddenly, the tranquility shattered as the Blood Ghosts emerged from the darkness. They materialized before the hunters, their red eyes glowing with malice. The sight sent shivers down Christopher's spine, but he steadied himself, gripping his sword tightly. The Ghosts were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless.

"I've seen a few. I know there are different kinds of hauntings. Some ghosts are really just...echoes, I guess, of some traumatic event. Those just repeat the same actions over and over, which rules you out since we're having a lucid conversation. Others are spirits who've chosen, for good or evil, to remain on this plane for some reason, whether it's protecting their descendants, guarding a sacred site or seeking revenge. Finally, there's the type who are here with unfinished business. My guess is you fall into that category since you asked me for help." "I do. You know a lot for such a young man." "Not so young. I'll be thirty-five on Halloween." He stepped out of his chair. "Can you sit?

Marcus, the quiet guy from accounting leaned against the door, arms crossed, with a bitter smirk twisting his lips. “McAllen,” he said. “You’ve been looking real happy lately. I see you enjoy your late night with the boss.” My stomach dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?” He stepped closer, I could see the jealousy in his eyes. “ I saw you leaving the private elevator. Looking like a man whose ass has taken some cock. You’re not the first, you know. The Ghost destroys anyone who tries to get close. You’re just the latest toy.” “The Ghost?” I laughed it off, but my voice sounded shaky even to me. “Sounds like some movie legend bullshit.”

But the fear that had been gnawing at her for days pushed her forward. She opened the book. The first pages were cold, filled with business notes and travel schedules. But as she flipped forward, the handwriting changed—it became jagged, frantic, and deeply personal. Her eyes landed on a single sentence near the end: Some ghosts don’t stay buried because they were never dead. A chill crept down her spine, turning her blood to ice. Before she could process the words, the lights throughout the estate flickered once, buzzed, and died. The house fell into absolute, suffocating darkness.

She'd been right about Paoli. He was an honest-to-God blood sucking vampire. Not really alive, but not dead. He was undead. There was no telling how many innocent people he'd killed. Well, she wasn’t about to be added to his numbers. She jerked the gaudy silver cross from her pocket and shoved it against his forehead.

"When it comes to gossip, nothing gets past me." At 11:00 PM, an understated luxury car pulled up at the school gates. Helena and Howard got out. Celeste and I had already set up snacks and drinks at the reading pavilion, waiting for them to settle down. After they arrived, Celeste cleared her throat. "Helena, what I'm about to tell you might sound unbelievable, but you have to believe me. I'm not crazy." In about ten minutes, Celeste laid out everything about my shadow. I chipped in with details to make the story as airtight as possible, hoping to make it seem as real as we could.

“If you do this, you don’t go alone.” “I wasn’t planning to.” His jaw ticked. “Then it’s settled. We go in together.” I nodded once. “Good. Because the Ghost has been hiding behind my father’s shadow long enough. It’s time someone showed them what happens when you try to raise the dead.” ⸻ That night, I stood alone in my room, staring at my reflection in the mirror. For a long time, I didn’t recognize the woman looking back. Gone was the girl who waited at windows, hoping Zach would return alive. Gone was the trembling daughter who flinched at her father’s voice.

The altar’s broken shape loomed behind them, cracked stone glowing with unnatural pulses. I gasped. Sarah’s hand found mine. Daniel crouched nearby, silver blade drawn. John’s torch flickered far ahead just a flame swallowed by shadows. David lay before the altar, unconscious. His mark glowed a violent red. The ghosts’ hunger pulsed toward him. Their chant deepened. A voice whispered in my mind, cold as frost: “He remembers. I remember. You belong.” I froze. Sarah tugged me back. “We have to move.” But the ghosts didn’t wait,they surged forward.

Blood covered the walls the night my best friend, Cody Colfax, was murdered. His body twisted and twitched before my eyes, like a fish out of water splashing around on a boardwalk without anyone to put him back. The possession of his body from the unknown source, the scientists call 'The Ghost,' has haunted the bystanders for weeks now. When we found him, his body was half-naked and covered in ashes. The hairs on his arms were fried by the electrical chords wrapped around his arms. The tattoos on his body were symbolic, otherworldly. The Ghost left them there to make their presence known.