Ghosted Whispers Novels & Stories

" Wow! It doesn't seem like she can see ghosts hmm. Yes she can see ghosts but she doesn’t want to tell to other people about that. "But you can see ghost duh!” I said with full of sarcasm. "Yep. If it's a real ghost, and are you scared in ghosts? Opps.. you’re a ghoster remember?" And my crazy friend laughed as if she wasn't a ghoster too. "Wow am I the only ghoster here? You too" I muttered to her. "Hmm Aeshe whats the feeling of being ghosted?” she asked me out of nowhere. "Did you see the guys who cry when we are leaving them? And to see a guy crying with just a week of flirting with them it would have been a lot of pain that it caused them to cry like that." I said to her.

Lyra was drowning. Not in water, but in darkness - vast, endless, pressing in from all sides. It clung to her like thick fog, swallowing every breath, every sound, every thought. The silence was oppressive, stretching infinitely, until the first whisper curled through the void. Soft at first. Then another. And another. The whispers layered upon each other, some frantic, others coaxing, all slipping between her fingers like water whenever she tried to grasp their meaning. A language lost to time, a song of secrets too old to understand.

And most of all, we learn that real love, whether romantic, platonic, or self-given, asks us to show up honestly, love bravely, and choose ourselves without apology. Let this be a reminder: Even broken hearts can whisper. And even whispered hearts can love again. Summary: In a world where love is often loud and fleeting, The Whispers of Heart tells the quiet, deeply personal stories of four souls daring to love bravely. Davina, a thoughtful introvert, rediscovers passion with a man who sees beyond her silence. Emmy, vibrant yet guarded, opens herself to joy and heartbreak but learns to choose herself. Sofia, wounded by betrayal, finds healing in an intense connection that vanishes with the m

"Is that you?" **[MESSAGE: ARIS VANCE IS OFFLINE. I AM THE FAIL-SAFE.]** ### The Ghost of the Waterfront As I reached the edge of the city, the air began to change. It wasn't just cold anymore; it was **Vibrating**. The closer I got to the water, the more I felt a familiar hum—a low-frequency thrumming that made the hair on my arms stand up. It was the sound of a server. A massive, hidden power source humming beneath the surface of the dead world.

“Stop.” We halted instantly. The whisper sharpened— “Wrong path…” “…turn back…” “…survivor…” “…not alone…” Dren clutched his cloak. “Why do these whispers suck so much? ‘Turn back,’ ‘don’t trust,’ ‘stop going down ominous stairs’—why can’t one whisper say something nice, like ‘take a nap’ or ‘free snacks ahead’?” But Mara’s brow furrowed. “No, listen properly. These whispers come from different sources. One is tied to the chamber. One is an imprint. And one…”

Everything felt unreal. My mate rejected me. He and his pack banished me. And somehow I still missed him. I kept walking until the silence around me started feeling strange. Then I heard footsteps behind me. I stopped immediately and turned around, but there was nothing there except trees moving slowly with the wind. I almost convinced myself I was imagining things until I heard it again. This time closer. A low laugh echoed behind me and fear crawled slowly into my chest. Rogues. My breathing became uneven immediately and I tightened my hand around my stomach before forcing myself to walk faster. Branches scratched against my arms as I moved deeper into the woods, but the footsteps behind m

she cried, rushing toward her. But Sandra remained rigid, her body frozen as if trapped in an invisible grip. The whispers that once brushed softly against her ears now erupted into agonizing screams, each one slicing through her skull. Her eyes dropped to her hand. She saw the blood smeared across her skin, the crimson burning itself into her vision. The walls seemed to tilt, the world spinning in a grotesque blur. Faces twisted, voices fractured into a chorus of shouts and sobs, all bleeding into one another until everything drowned in red.

As the plane took off, I finally exhaled—like something heavy had snapped loose inside me. Phone on airplane mode. Eyes shut. Real sleep, at last. Sleep I'd been chasing for years. Soft music played in my ears, and for once, the past felt far away. "Hedley Hart, you're finally free," I whispered, voice shaking. For years, I'd lived in her orbit. Loved her so hard I disappeared. Even after ninety-nine rejections, I never thought about quitting.

One girl and one boy, smiles on their faces as they both let the wind sway their swings. An image of a girl with long, red, wavy hair flashed before my eyes and smiled at me, very tender and sweet like it would end my immortality. Then she collapsed into the floor. The vision went black. I couldn't see anything... it was dark... yet there were whispers. "It's her..." "Puoi permetterti di perderla?" "Take her..." "Sarà la tua morte..." I opened my eyes and sat down. My hands were shaking and I was having a hard time catching my breath due to shock. Fucking dream! No. It was a nightmare!

The dimensional jump spat us out onto a vast, crumbling platform of obsidian, suspended in a boundless, starless void. Above us, a gargantuan, swirling vortex of iridescent gases crackled with silent, terrifying energy. The air tasted of ozone and ancient dust. “The Whispering Gate,” Misha breathed, her voice a mix of awe and trepidation. She clutched my hand, her other resting protectively on her stomach. The air itself thrummed with a low, insidious murmur—a chorus of voices, barely audible, yet everywhere. They whispered promises of forgotten power, echoes of lost loves, temptations woven from regret. It was a symphony of despair.