Novel & Cerita Ghost Story To Tell In The Dark

He just needs to trust me and let his emotions flow. "3 years ago, there was a person who died inside that stock room. He committed suicide because of love triangle. That stock room was known to be haunted because it's believed that his soul is still there, trying to take everyone who wants to disturb him." He said to me, it gave me goosebumps but if Giovanni was trying to plot a prank on me and scared me because of that story, well, he doesn't know me yet. I really like horror movies, I find them attractive. Not only that, I always wants to murder movies. I actually don't believe in ghosts.

Sadly, it wasn't so. As the night fell, the dark clouds covering the sky while I returned to my quarters after running a late errand for Savannah, I heard hushed whispers in the corridor, causing me to freeze in my steps. I noticed a shadow pass near my door. With my heart in my throat, I lifted a nearby lamp and cautiously stepped forward. The figure doesn’t run—it simply stands there, waiting. I was scared out of my wits. What the fuck was this? I had already signed off on this shit, so why the fuck was I still seeing things? Perhaps it was just my imagination. Shutting my eyes tightly, I opened them only to still see the figure standing in the same position. Shakily, I turn open the doork

Her eyes swept across my small studio apartment with contempt. “I heard the rent for this place is ridiculously cheap. There couldn’t possibly be something wrong with it, could there?” I said flatly, “It’s quite good. It’s spacious, bright, and the neighbors are nice.” Whitley laughed exaggeratedly. “Neighbors? Would you even dare to go out at night in this building? I heard someone died here.” She was just here to gloat. I could not be bothered to deal with her. So, I turned to close the door.

“A witch?” Grams gasped. “Geeze, Mil, how else do you think you get a magical being like a white wolf?” Grandad rolled his eyes, making me laugh. “Now, get on with the story. We’ll need to meet this so-called mate of yours. Ghost. What kind of name is that?” Dad weaved our tale throughout the day and into the night. Grams kept our bellies full, and Grandad kept the fire blazing.

“About you, Jax.” That threw me off. “Me?” She tilted her head slightly. “You carry ghosts.” The words hit harder than I wanted them to. “Everyone does.” “Not like you.” I looked away, focusing on the herbs again. “You don’t know me.” “Not yet,” she said softly. “But I’ve read enough to know what kind of men haunt stories like yours.” “What kind of men is that?” “The ones who live when others don’t.” I froze, staring at the table. My hands had gone still, a few stray leaves sticking to my palms.

“What if she’s telling the truth? What if you never really heard me?” Her words broke him more than the ghost's mocking laughter ever could. Suddenly, the darkness split open and walls rose around them, forming a house. They stood in a bedroom now. A bed at the center with sheets torn and stained with ink. One Camela lay on the bed while another clung to him by the door. The ghost's shadow loomed across the walls, whispering. "In this house, no one listens. That's why the locks click shut. That's why the gloves move on their own. That's why her scar burns."

Once they stepped outside, Lucas angrily threw the fake money on the ground. “Damn it! How dare they trick me?!” Meanwhile, I was secretly watching the whole scene and laughing my head off! … The following day, while Lucas was sleepy, I pretended to speak casually and said, “I heard there’s a big bag of money near the third pillar at the lakeside gazebo. It’s about to get ruined in the water.” When he jolted awake, I slipped into the crowd unnoticed. Lucas excitedly told Zoe about the news. She hesitated a bit after yesterday’s fiasco, but he insisted, saying an opportunity like this would not come again. They had to go and check things out for themselves.

She called out, her voice echoing eerily in the vast emptiness. "Ghost?" she whispered, her voice barely a sound. A chuckle, low and sardonic, filled the darkness. Then, a single figure emerged from the shadows. Tall and shrouded in darkness, its face hidden beneath a hood, this was Ghost.

I supposed I couldn’t judge if I was still so freaked out by the fortune teller. “Tell me about it,” the barista agreed. “But what else could they say? No one’s been able to catch the ghosts on camera or anything.” She paused then, pursing her lips a bit as she peered out the window. “If you ask me, Moonshine Manor has something to do with it. That place has… bad energy.” I frowned, opening my mouth to speak, but then shut it again when Chris touched my wrist. More rumors, I figured; it was just a house.

"Belle is dead, but you're the one who's guilty. You fell for her, didn't you? You didn't even realize it, but you loved her." I listened to their exchange, and it all seemed like some sick joke. Grayson loving me? That was the most absurd thing I had ever heard. Grayson locked Alice and kept her starved for three days, only giving her water to keep her alive. I found the whole thing too ridiculous. Late regrets and empty affection were worth less than dirt. While I was still alive, he treated me like garbage, and now, dead as I was, it felt like this charade was put on for the benefit of ghosts.