Ghostly Hollow Novels & Stories

He had no idea what to do, but he knew he had to find someone to keep on selling this lie. He knew today was supposed to be his official day back at school, but he wasn't mentally stable to go back and he knew it. Struggling to recover from his mother's demise and now he is seeing Ghosts. He got into his bathroom to wash up and prepare for school. Turned on the shower and stood still as the water paraded his skin and him exhaling, he felt calm at least. He closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, and immediately saw Tasha calling his name, her eyes filled with darkness and Her hand stretching out to him. He couldn't move, his heart felt like it was being squeezed. He couldn't breat

But they still needed a lot of training if we were going to be going head on into a war. “Hey, what’s that noise?” Leah asked. And I looked over at her. I could also hear a noise. It wasn’t a plane but it was above us and I moved further into the open field to look around and see if I could find it. Suddenly I saw a drone flying over the pack territory. “The vampires have drones now?” Leah asked. “That’s not a vampire drone. That’s military.” I said. “Human military?” She asked. “Yeah.” I said.

But your mother's about to die—I know you'll show up. Her words jolted me back to reality. I pressed a hand to my chest, where my heart ached with a dull, numbing pain. How I wished I could tell her myself. That I've been here all along. It's just that... I've been dead for four years.

Choosing her would’ve been suicide. So why did I keep seeing her in my dreams, blood streaked across her face, a ghost of fire burning in her eyes? Why did it feel like I had made the greatest mistake of my life? Liesendra by my side sat by the fire, humming a song I didn't recognize. Her fingers danced lazily over a worn page of an old tome—one of the many ancient relics her father smuggled into Winter Hollow. The red crystal pendant around her throat pulsed softly like a heartbeat.

By dawn, we’d followed the residual magic left from Rowan’s abduction deep into the north ridge, where the trees turned silver at the edges and frost kissed the ground even in August. “This place doesn’t belong to the Hollow,” Kael muttered. “It’s borrowed, claimed by something older.” “Older than werewolves?” I asked with curiosity. Kael gave me a side look. “You still think I’m the monster in this story??” I didn’t answer. --- Hours Later.…. We crossed into what Kael called “the Grey Hollow”. The trees had their sap pouring, Crows circled above us, silent and watching. The magic was thicker here, pressing against my bones like a second skin.

The air tasted wrong—metallic and stale, like a room that hadn't been opened in a hundred years. "They're here," I said. I looked toward the entrance at the far end of the rink. Three figures stepped out . They weren't wearing hockey gear. They were wearing ragged black suits. Their skin was the color of a bruise, and their eyes were glowing with a sickly, pulsing purple light. The Hollow Ones. They didn't even howl. The first one leaped onto the ice, its claws extending six inches from its fingertips. It swiped at a defensive player, sending the boy flying into the boards with a sickening thud.

“We’ll talk later.” I sighed and let myself fall onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I wasn’t alone in that house. Something—or someone—was watching me. Suddenly, I felt it. That strange sensation of being watched. I slowly sat up in bed, sharpening my hearing. A creak in the hallway? A whisper behind the door? My heart began to race. Then I saw it. Two yellow eyes glowed from the darkest corner of the room. A black shape moved within the shadows, and for a second, a shiver ran down my spine.

“If this is about Mira No. Mira remembered. But only pieces. You bring shape to her echo. She was not the first. You are not the last. Kaima reached out. The ghost stepped forward. And then it opened the core beneath them. The floor dissolved into translucent light, revealing a chamber far below a vault of memory. Hundreds of suspended glyphs hovered in midair runic systems older than any Pact, some formed from pure tone, others from physical motion, and one that shifted shape as it was observed. Ari whispered, “This isn’t from our world.” Kaima pointed downward. The ghost guided them both. The Hollow is not a place. It is a memory. A resonance discarded by early shapers. Too unpredictable.