Ghosted Book Novels & Stories

My breath falters once. I don’t know the name. That should be enough. I steady my breathing and listen. Nothing outside but wind through the trees. Still, I step back. Ghosts don’t keep personal items. They don’t have pasts that can be written down. I open the cover just enough to see the first page. My name is there. Written in a hand I don’t recognize. Footsteps approach. I snap the book shut as the door handle turns.

“What did you say?” “It was a code. 18-L-3-20,” I recited from memory. “I found the book in your library. Shakespeare. On the page the code led to, there was a pinprick, a tiny hole through a single word.” I took a shaky breath, finally giving the ghost a name. “The word was ‘betrayal’.”

The conqueror had won by inventing a game where victory meant no one else had to lose. Dr. Sharma walked away, her notebook full of facts, her mind full of a silence that was not empty, but profound. She would write her book. It would be a book about a ghost who had haunted the world into waking up. And the ghost, she knew, would have hated every page. Which was, perhaps, the final proof that he had succeeded.

I kept walking toward the back wall then I saw something strange. A soft golden glow appeared between two massive bookshelves I walked past a thousand times. It was a hidden section. The books here looked ancient, their leather spines shimmering faintly. Titles like The Touch of Shadows, Bound by Moonlight, and Whispers After Dark seemed to pulse with their own light. My fingers trembled as I reached out and pulled one book from the shelf. It felt warm, almost alive. I was so curious to see so I opened it slowly.

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.

"They will not teach you mercy. I won’t either. But I will teach you love—because love is the thing they fear most. The pen shook only once. Then steadied. She wrote about silence, the language of killers. About the way empires rot from within long before they fall from without. She wrote about the weight of a name. Of survival. Of trust sold at gunpoint. Of brothers lost in smoke and sisters buried beneath blood. This wasn't a lullaby. This was war scripture. The second entry in The Book of Blood. And she meant every word. ~~~~~~~~~~ GHOST MOUTH — DAWN Lorenzo stood barefoot in the tide, shirt open, smoke curling from the end of a thin black cigarillo. Behind him, Roji and Inez oversaw the

Don't just skip this book again; add to library. Enjoy! Your loving author; Natasha Gwen

​The Ghost-Archive ​"They’re ghosts, Aara," I realized, touching the flickering wall. The static reacted to my "Presence," momentarily forming the shape of a face, a city, a line of alien script, before dissolving back into chaos. "This is what happens when you don't ground your story in the stone. You become a 'Residual-Echo.'"

Hearing my words, tony pulled out a book from back of his shirt; it was a Grimoire the same one which I kept yesterday in front of him before “Hmmm….. My wife, one who told you about this book” he replied and I took a glance at female karkinos ghost who was floating about him… “This book is my wife possession… no one know where it was except her… and if you found it means you had meet her….” Tony replied in stern voice, his deep eyes were bored on my face…. ‘So the female karkinos ghost who was floating above him was his WIFE’ I thought in my mind, I wasn’t sure of how to explain this person that his wife was dead and it wasn’t his wife but her spirit that told me where this book was…

Dee’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “That book is a myth,” Linette said. “It doesn’t exist.” “It does,” I replied. “Covered in spikes, bloody writing, and glittering with gold and black.” Linette’s lashes fluttered. “No… that book was destroyed,” she whispered. “What is it? Some kind of forbidden text or magic?” I asked. “It’s the Book of Fate,” Linette breathed. “Said to have been destroyed centuries ago. How did you touch it?” “It… appeared in my room,” I confessed, my voice shaking.