Ghost Story Straub Novel 소설 & 이야기

Two uniforms followed: Stacey—with the steady eyes— and Tom, tight as a drawn line. “Look what the tide dragged in,” Andrew said. “Mitchell. Couldn’t resist my crime scene?” “I was leaving,” Gabe said, voice flat. “Not before we have a chat.” Andrew’s gaze flicked over Gabe—wet hems, salt on the jacket, the Bible under his arm. “You reek. Sea and whiskey. Classic.” Stacey’s glance cut quick, concerned, to the book. Tom stayed stone. “What’s that?” Andrew jerked his chin.

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 was still amazed, absorbed in the many fish that were swimming calmly outside, I was so absorbed that I did not notice, that the boys had stopped talking and joking with each other, their awkward silence made me uncomfortable and I turned towards them, they all looked in the direction of the door. I did the same as the rest and my people, my soul escaped from my body, I felt that my legs were failing me and that I lost all the color in my face, but not before of course that enigmatic and strange event that surrounded me whenever Andrew He was close to me, the world was in super slow motion, his eyes were fixed on me, with the coldest and most intimidating expression that no one had ever gi

“I’m not suspecting you Blaine and I never tell the higher ups about your connection to the two so just take the day off for now and think hard. Maybe Phantom Night is one of your acquiantances because it’s not a mere coincidence” Jake ended the call after that and Blaine have no choice but to take the day off. Well, it’s not like he can work at this state so it’s favorable for him. Did you like our present Blaine? It’s our welcome gift for you Again. He heard some voices again. Blaine turned his head left and right but he didn’t saw anyone. Is he really hallucinating or there are really ghost in this house? I inwardly laugh at myself. Maybe I accumulated a lot of stress these past few day

* The story is told from a single POV, and it doesn't change over the whole book. A trivia bit that blew me away: I picked the setting rather randomly, and later on, I found out I set my ghost story a stone-throw away from where Lovecraft set The Dunwich Horror and The Color Out of Space. Those coincidences I love about writing. Okay, enough gibberish. I'm just gonna breathe deep and hope for the best. Please let me know what you think with a rating, share and consider giving the story some gems! Any and all feedback is much appreciated!

he muttered, scanning their surroundings. Suddenly, a soft rustling caught Ethan's attention. From the shadows emerged a figure—a solitary figure carrying a basket filled with healing herbs and plants. The newcomer approached cautiously, their eyes meeting Ethan's with a mix of curiosity and concern. "I can help," the stranger offered in a hushed voice, their hands already sorting through the basket. Ethan hesitated for a moment, then nodded gratefully. "Please."

August 16th (Sunday) Sunny wanted to visit Layla, so she took a cab to her apartment. Sunny walked up to the door and gave it a knock. Layla shortly opens the door with a surprised face as she says, "Sunny! "Come on in." Sunny and Layla sit down on the sofa together as Sunny explains the paranormal events that happened to her at night. Layla listens intently, her eyes widening in disbelief, as Sunny fills her in on the Ghostly gray smoke that went right through her body and the strange whispers that filled her room.

With a heavy sigh, I open the door and get in. I reverse out of the driveway and stop, still feeling the eyes on me. I look up with a groan, tired of this weird feeling. My eyes travel to the top of the building, there is a lone window on the last floor. At first I don’t see anything, then I notice a flurry of movement then the curtains drop. I squint my eyes trying to see more, but everything is still and the window is closed.. I shudder a little, feeling weird. This pack is weird as fuck, I don’t know the hell staying here is going to work out when it has just been one day and I’m seeing ghosts.

Sabrina asked, her voice sounding loud over the quiet crowd. James looked toward her. “According to history, there have been at least twenty murders here, including several murder-suicides. Mark Twain, the author, actually stayed here in the year 1901 and claimed to have experienced supernatural incidents, even before he knew that the place was haunted. Also, in the mid 1950's, there were three different tenants who were all sent to psych wards after just one month of living here. It's said that they all told similar stories to their psychiatrists; something about a man on the stairs outside of their door whispering to them while they tried to sleep.”

GHOST Ember stared into his pantry as if it had personally wronged her, the neat rows of supplies standing in silent judgment of the turmoil she refused to name. She wasn’t rummaging or grabbing anything, just standing there with her shoulders tight and her jaw clenched, breathing a little too fast for someone who claimed she was coping just fine with the storm and everything else the night had dumped on her. Ghost stayed where he was, rooted by the far counter with deliberate distance, not because he didn’t want to be closer, but because the desire to close that gap was already burning too hot, too insistent for comfort. He already knew what she was going to take before her hand even lifted