Ghost Reading A Book Novels & Stories

Everyone Zoe met, she would tell them, “I had someone read her fortune. Maisie’s future is cursed. She’s sickly. Stay away from her.” I clenched my teeth and propped myself up despite being weak and feverish. I went to see the fortune teller who had read my fortune in my previous life. After hearing the full story, he told me that there was definitely something I had not noticed yet, and I needed to go back and search carefully. I had no choice, so I dug through every gift Zoe had ever given me, but I found nothing.

Hearing no one moving about—and assuming the students are probably on lockdown for the night—I walk through the heavy wooden doors, projecting myself into the library instead of the hall leading to it. And then I stop again, unable to keep the smile off my face. “I’ve missed you,” I tell the library as if it can hear me. There’s a good chance it actually can. A book drops, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. It startles me, but not as much as I startled the poor girl who saw me walk right through the doors. “Are y-you a g-ghost?” she stammers. “No, and sorry,” I tell her, holding up my hands to try and show that I mean no harm. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here. I’m—”

“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.”

It sat on my vanity, the white leather glowing with a faint, ghostly luminescence. “Ting.” The sound was soft, almost mournful. Task Thirty-Two: The Mother’s Audit. The Ledger is not a list of names. It is a map of the ‘Void-Nodes’ currently growing inside the North’s children. To stop the spread, you must find the ‘First Infection.’ Follow the silver thread that leads out of your window. I looked at the book, then at my sleeping husband. If I woke him, he’d burn the book and forbid me from leaving. He’d try to fight a ghost with a sword again.

“It has to be here somehow.” It’s been two weeks since Annie’s Hawth’s latest book was released, and I couldn’t wait to read another heart-wrenching supernatural romance. It was always fascinating reading the works of humans on my species, even though they think we do not exist. Well, most of them, anyway. “There you are,” I grinned from ear to ear as I picked the book hidden away perhaps by someone else who had the same favorites as me. Impatiently, I found a seat and began to read through. I’d barely gotten through the first chapter when I heard Theo’s voice in my head.

My birth wasn't mentioned, the same as my death. When I was on the verge of giving up on reading, I took a last glance at the book and sighed. I closed the book, stood up, and got ready to sleep. Then, the book opened itself. It was a moment of 'didn't I close this book?' I paced around at short distances, took note of the page and closed it again. I glared at the book till I was on my bed and the book never opened - maybe it is my illusion.

”I believe it's a ghost that possessed her? "So it's a ghost which possessed her," I asked. "Yes, i believe so," she answered me. She moved toward the bookshelf, pulling down a thin, leather-bound volume that looked like it hadn't been opened in a century. "You know how spirits linger until what anchors them is gone?" I nodded to that. It was basic lore—every shifter knew that ghosts needed a reason to stay in the physical world.

She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits. I stood my ground. "He's not coming back," I said softly. "You can be at peace now." The ghost froze. Her shoulders trembled, and she let out a faint whimper, as if a great weight had been lifted. The black mist around her dissipated. Her form turned faint, then transparent, until she dissolved into a wisp of light that drifted toward the rose bushes. Lorenzo's eyes lit up. "Damn, where'd you learn that trick?"

Something waiting. --- Determined not to be paralyzed by fear, I returned to the antique bookstore — to the stories, the secrets, the fragments of forgotten women. The elderly owner greeted me with a knowing smile. “You’re searching for answers,” he said quietly. I nodded. He handed me a leather-bound tome, its cover worn but strong — *Reflections of the Forgotten*. “Read carefully,” he advised. “Sometimes the past speaks through shadows.” --- I spent the night poring over its pages. The book told of women trapped in illusions, caught between worlds — ghosts of themselves, struggling to reclaim their true identities.