Ghost Story Writing Novels & Stories

I am very sure you will love them. I am grateful to my readers for giving this book a try. I must say, the real reason I got motivated to write this book is truly hilarious. When I was a child, I often watched ghost movies and believed they existed. After coming of age, I realised those are just films, not the real world. But after watching a documentary, my heart and mind wavered to believing once more that ghosts do believe. I do not mean to offend or scare any of you. If my thoughts did offend you all, I apologise.

'Perhaps, when the time comes, my only option to show my support as her friend is by educating her on how to self-publish. ..... After her meet-up with Aurora, Lucy Roces decided to visit the ghostwriter behind most of the stories of 'Night of Terror'. She first bought some chicken and vegetables for dinner which she planned to share with the ghostwriter before driving to his apartment located on the outskirts of the city. An hour later, she parked her red car on the roadside. Because she sighted something interesting several meters away, she stayed inside and only rolled down the car window halfway. That was how cries filled with remorse and sadness entered her ears.

Those who had discovered the truth were swiftly silenced, their secrets dying with them. The rumors about The Ghost were the stuff of criminal legend. They said he could walk through walls, that he had spies in every major organization, that he could make people disappear without a trace. Some said he wasn't human at all, but a vengeful spirit who had returned from the dead to punish the wicked. Victor did nothing to discourage these tales—in fact, he cultivated them.

CLAIRE I thought I hated surprises. I was wrong. I was not built for every kind of truth. I thought confetti and balloons were the worst surprises. It turns out a living, breathing ghost is a far more effective party trick. A truly catastrophic one is a man who lies about his family, and then you stumble upon a skeleton in his closet.

Warmth surged throughout his body as it slowly took on a solid form and he could feel the wetness of the water on his skin. He leant forward from behind her. "Thank you..." he whispered in her ear. At the same time, a gust of cold wind brushed past and fluttered her wet hair in mid-air. She froze at the sudden abnormality and crossed her hands over her exposed chests. Her body trembled when a pair of cold arms appeared out of nowhere and wrapped her slender waist from behind. From the dimmed reflection on the glass, she could vaguely see someone with long hair and a muscular body; smiling at her. Her face turned as white as the white sheet. Is that the female ghost she saw last night?

“I needed the truth. Since you wouldn’t open up. I wanted to know the real story about the Ghost.” I looked away, chest tight. I didn’t know when I started talking. “I thought I told you this before? My father caught me with a boy when I was sixteen. He didn’t just punish me. He broke me into pieces. He kept me in cold rooms. Played psychological games. Told me wanting men made me weak. That love would destroy everything I built. He tortured me for weeks till he was sure that I was now hardened. So I became the Ghost with no feelings. And no risk of anyone staying long enough to hurt me.”

I was gone, and it wasn't as though they could speak ill of me now, not while my body was being buried in the ground. Even my mother-in-law came. She was already a frail, tiny woman, but seeing her there made her appear decades older. Grayson knelt before my gravestone, convinced he was performing some act of atonement. But to me, his presence was nothing more than repulsive. After the funeral, he returned to the small apartment. Alice, starved for three days, lay there, barely clinging to life. The moment she saw Grayson, fear overtook her—a fear she couldn't hide.

“Now… should we go find you the perfect body? The earlier the better.” She nodded. “You are right. But what about what you were doing?” “That?” I waved it off. “I can continue later. Nothing important.” Lies but she didn’t need to know that. It was better for us to go out finding but dies than for us to be here and somehow get a glimpse of what I was writing, that will be a disaster. Because my story was still incomplete anyway. I still didn’t know who killed her. How she died. Why she remained a ghost. Why some bodies worked and some didn’t. Too many puzzle pieces are still missing.

Olivia was about to ask the deity when a powerful suction blocked her voice and pulled her into an endless black hole. At the same time, the 9th space began to be like a broken glass gradually cracked… The space changed rapidly after then… Another light appeared and vanished the whole 9th space. There was nothing left. Only a small, gentle light remained.

“There’s no bathroom! I was lying.” “Mia! You’re way too evil!” “Thank god… I wasn’t scared,” someone muttered stiffly. “How about we tell ghost stories?” Goselle suddenly suggested. “One person, one story—how does that sound?” Dwyn immediately chimed in. “Sure. I’ll go first. I’ll tell you a ghost story from when I was filming in Aeriflux.” The moment everyone heard it happened overseas, they visibly relaxed. For some reason, as long as it wasn’t a story that happened domestically, it just felt less scary.