Ghost Stories Online Novels & Stories

"Wait." I suddenly stopped. Rica looked at me. I couldn't see her whole face. But her clear brown eyes reflected my bloody figure. "I just wanted to remind you that if you ever become a demon I wouldn't hesitate to offer you to the burned mansion. You know what they were interested in." Rica nodded. "I've heard rumors that there was a ghost market in the city. The famous burned house. " It looked like Rica had lived here in the dead's world for quite some time to hear of this rumor.

Failing to contain her curiosity, she asks Lolita about it. "Aside from rumors about ghosts scaring and making fun of passers by, I know nothing else, Miss." "Ghosts?" "I apologize but I refuse to tell stories of them. Not now that's it's already midnight."

An actual ghost was standing in front of me, which means the ghost story was real and the only people I know to wear all-white outfits are ghosts. The ghost tried to touch me, but I moved backward and tripped over my luggage. To cut the story short, I landed on my butt. "Miss Hillary, are you alright?" The ghost asked me. The ghost could talk. I haven't seen Ghost Talk except in movies and novels, and they are not actual ghosts. "You..." I pointed to the ghost. "How are you talking right now?" I questioned the ghost.

he muttered. “I... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered. Willa watched him smile faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching as his head tilted to the side. Her gaze followed his, and by the corner, other ghosts stood whispering to one another. “What are they?” The handsome stranger’s face inched dangerously close, catching Willa off guard. Her fingers tightened around the hem of her dress, and her pupils danced. “Writers always end up meeting the skeletons in their cupboards here,” he whispered, his breath fanning her like a new fragrance from her favorite vendor. “Let’s see how long you hold the truth,” he added.

The Blackthorn Hotel had stood on the edge of the misty cliffs for over a century, its reputation for hauntings as famous as its opulent rooms. Most guests requested the infamous Suite 313 out of morbid curiosity. Dr. Sophia Reyes, 36, requested it out of pure skepticism. She was a clinical psychologist and vocal debunker of the paranormal. “Ghosts don’t exist,” she had told the wide-eyed receptionist with a confident smile. “They’re just stories people tell themselves to feel something.”

Then, I brought out a bottle of whiskey and finished everything in one go. I even placed an order of fresh pig's blood online. I'd read somewhere that ghosts were extremely afraid of pig's blood. And since I wasn't able to rid myself of Mabel's ghost, I would just go all out and fight her instead. I held the bowl of blood in my hands, feeling comforted by its presence. Then, I waited patiently in the living room for the ghost to appear again. Just as the clock struck 9:00 pm, all of the lights in the house went out all of a sudden.

… As soon as I opened the door to the private dining room, I heard a pop, and confetti began raining down on both Cecily and me. Smiling, Ian came over and gave me a friendly punch. "Not one word from you in two whole years! If I hadn't known you'd joined the research lab, I would've filed a missing person report with the police!" Everyone else in the room laughed and began teasing me. "He's right, you know. Two years ago, you disappeared into thin air right after informing us the wedding was canceled. We wouldn't have known what happened to you if Ian didn't tell us. What kind of a friend are you anyway?"

Before he could react, his phone rang urgently. "Hello?" A cold voice answered, "Mr. Hart, we received a report. We found a woman's corpse at one of your rental properties."

“Do you think ghosts are real? I have never seen one, but my mother used to tell stories about spirits that could not rest.” Seraphina frowned thoughtfully. “It is hard to say. Some packs believe in them strongly. Others say it is just the wind or tricks of the light. But if so many people are seeing the same thing, it makes you wonder.” We talked about it for a while. Zoe wondered if the ghosts were old pack members who had unfinished business. Seraphina asked if anyone had tried burning herbs or asking a wise elder to bless the grounds. I listened and added small comments here and there.

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.