Ghost Hunt Book Novels & Stories

the voice continued, and a shiver ran down my spine as I realized that it was emanating from the large, old book laid out on the table before us. As Aunt Agatha guided me to a chair and seated me, my eyes were drawn to the book, its pages glowing with a deep purple hue that seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy. As my fingertips brushed against the weathered cover of the Book of Shadows, a surge of energy coursed through my veins, sending shivers down my spine. It was as if the very essence of the book pulsed with ancient power, alive and vibrant beneath my touch. "What... what is this?" I whispered, my voice barely audible in the hushed confines of the cottage. But the book remained sile

Was she dead? All this explains why the bus didn't stop, people didn't reply to her when she waved. They couldn't see her, that was why she was found in the cemetery. Austin stared at her and took a step back, this revelation alone almost blew up his mind. She was with a Ghost? Why can he see a ghost? "Oh my God," he muttered with his voice shaking, he ran past his brother and went into his room. He locked his door quickly, trying to stop Tasha or his brother from getting in.

His number would not ring. Maybe he needed space to sort out everything going on. I stared at the torn page in front of me—a fragment I’d found near the old vent shaft in the hallway closet. Watermarked. It had Discolored ink and was part of the Obsidian report. It had been one of the first clues, the first sign that this house had ghosts hidden in its walls. My stomach twisted.

The books they had on the subject seemed sadly outdated and she silently wondered if this exercise would bear results. Eli, being the Head Librarian, was able to sniff out what they needed fast, and she was sure the seven books on the desk were about all he could find. Most of them dealt with hauntings and spirit possessions, but none it seemed, could tell her how to kill an evil spirit. Not just banish it, but kill it and send it hurtling to hell, where it belonged.

Their hands are almost touching. A shiver ran down my spine. Some ghosts don’t need to haunt you. They just wait until you find them again. And tonight, I had.

Solemnly, I swept my gaze across the circle of grotesque and terrifying, yet strangely harmless faces of the ghosts, one by one. Under the barrage of "Human, come cuddle!" inner voices, I admitted defeat. A clingy human wasn't scary, but a clingy ghost was. A whole classroom of clingy ghosts was an absolute nightmare! I took a steadying breath, picked up the notebook, and resumed searching for more clues. The notebook's owner was named Peggy Clark. Her handwriting was neat and pretty, and for some reason, it felt vaguely familiar.

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

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.

I’m not going to see anything sitting, so I get up. “Hello,” I say again, because it’s obvious someone’s in here, but why the hell are they not answering? “Is anyone here?” I move forward, but slowly. I still hear the pages moving. Then I remember that vampires are extremely fast. Someone is in here. I stop when I see a large book on the floor; the pages are moving, but no one’s moving the pages. It’s almost like someone invisible has control of the book on the ground. But who? What the hell is happening here?

“And… When Layla started working there, I felt that feeling even more. Like I wasn’t ever alone. Like I could look over my shoulder and find someone–something watching me from afar.” “What did that feel like to you?” Helen asks calmly. “That’s an odd question.” I chuckle, shrugging. “I guess… it didn’t feel threatening. Maybe… bored curiosity? That changed, though, when all the weird things started happening to Layla, and when we found out what Vera was doing to Miss Penny it got worse.” Chills erupt all over my skin. I shake them away. “Do you believe in ghosts, Helen?” “Oh, of course. You can’t live in the deep south without holding some belief about the spirits that linger here.”