Ghost Reading A Book Novels & Stories

Sometimes, I wonder if she’s the one I am feeling in this room. I don’t believe in ghosts or that shit. I grab a blue hardcover, with the name, ‘Herbs for healing sleeping sickness’. I flip the pages, leaning on the bookshelves, as the pages flip, a paper falls out. I grip it, the paper is nearly old, the edges almost torn off. The writing is legible.

From the series of reincarnation and dimensions can she solve the real mystery of ‘Who is the real dead one? Reading the words through her mind as the cold wind made her shivers, yet different, but she is very much familiar off. “Again?” She whispers, closing the book and blinking slowly thrice in response, before a call rings. “Can you see me?” With the wind and the uncanny chill, it brings towards her sensitive ears that immediately turns red like winter is falling heavy in the middle of winter months. She gasps, putting the book inside her bag intending to barrow it for good days, as she glances beside and is greeted.

When I turned back around, I noticed a new note pinned to the table. It was the same familiar handwriting, but the strokes seemed to carry a hint of chill this time. "Squanderer." I froze, then started laughing out loud. So this ghost couldn't just cook—she was also a thrifty, budget-conscious woman. I liked that. I immediately grabbed a pen and wrote back, "Sorry, Ivy. I was just joking. From now on, let's stick to regular dishes. I won't bring up such ridiculous things anymore." I made sure to apologize sincerely.

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.

"Wait. I need to know. Why did, uhm, whatever, carelessly pick me?" "Go back." The woman wasn't paying her any attention. She kept on plucking cowries and attaching them to her head. "What is he? Oh, don't answer that one. He's a ghost. I know that. Why is he in that state? No, no, why can I see him? Why can l feel his touch, ghosts can't do that, can they? What does he need me for?" The old woman stopped her scaly hands from further movements and stared directly at Geneva through her foggy eyes that obviously saw clearly.

Ghost explained. I closed my eyes and stopped pretending, letting out a sigh of pain and tiredness. It took a few minutes for us to arrive because Ghost was moving slowly, precisely so as not to hurt me anymore. I know the exact moment I enter the Imperial bedroom and open my eyes, Ghost lets go of my waist and I stagger, but I make it to the bed and lie down. My vision simply blacked out. ************* Note: Don't forget to like, comment and share the book! This really helps it grow on the platform

Goddess, I hated that word almost as much as I hated keeping up with Alpha Hunter’s ruse. Setting my breakfast down on a nearby table, Sterling hummed quietly. As he turned, his lips twitched clearly fighting a smile. “Actually, I was referring to you sleeping in the library, but by all means you may continue.” I gave him a flat glare which coaxed a chuckle from him, “Fine, but remember you’re the one who said it, not me.” His eyes dropped, scanning my rumpled clothes with interest. “Did you know a ghost roams this very library? Some old scholar type who died of a heart attack in the armchair right over there by the window. He tells me you found something but won’t elaborate on what it is.”

As time went on I busied myself with stocking a fresh set of newly released stack of books near the counter as I straightened them in a way that would get the customers attention. As i worked and cleaned my mind keeps shifting back to him. Still rattled from his disappearance last night, I mean I should be scared he’s not human his ghostly disappearance confirmed that but still I wasn’t.. Even now a part of me still anticipates his presence, it’s like I could feel him here.. If he’s here, he’ll show himself. He always does. I’m halfway through adjusting a crooked row of paperbacks when the temperature shifts and It drops just enough to make my fingers pause against the spine of a book.

But the images kept bleeding through, sharp and fast, like shards of broken glass: * A lock clicking on the outside of a door. * The muffled sound of her own voice begging. * Laughter, low and cruel, in the next room. Emily pressed her palms hard against her eyes until the pressure blotted it out. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. ________________ “Too loud in there?” She dropped her hands, startled. Ghost had appeared at her side, silent as always, moving like smoke. He didn’t sit, didn’t hover. Just leaned against the wall a few feet away, arms folded.

he muttered, dragging a shaky hand through his hair. But he didn’t move away. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t ask it to stop. Instead… He leaned back into the mattress… and let the ghost linger. --- That day didn’t end with more touches. No teasing brushes of fingers. No sudden weight curling behind him in bed. Instead, it ended with words. Soft taps against his skin. Whispers too faint to catch fully but present enough to chase sleep from his eyes. Letters drawn on fogged glass. Fingers tracing invisible messages across his forearm while he sat on the couch, pretending to focus on reruns he wasn’t really watching.