Good Ghost Stories Novels & Stories

Frank nodded—that was good enough for him anyway. "We're here!" the beggar exclaimed and suddenly stopped, pointing at a nearby hill. Frank stretched out with his senses to see that there was a graveyard halfway up the hill, and that there were people there. To be precise, it was more a curious energy signature that lingered there like when Frank turned invisible! "All the stuff about ghosts and haunting is but tall tales the forefathers told to spook each other," the beggar said.

"Most people don't." "Oh, she definitely did." "Why?" "Because she'd light candles everywhere and tell me it was an adventure." She laughed quietly at the memory. "We'd make hot chocolate." "We'd tell stories until the electricity came back." Lucien listened without interrupting. "What kind of stories?" "Bookshop ghosts." He blinked. "Ghosts?" "The friendly kind." She grinned. "They supposedly rearranged books during the night because they got bored." "And you believed that?" "I was seven." "...Fair enough."

When I turned back around, I noticed a new note pinned to the table. It was the same familiar handwriting, but the strokes seemed to carry a hint of chill this time. "Squanderer." I froze, then started laughing out loud. So this ghost couldn't just cook—she was also a thrifty, budget-conscious woman. I liked that. I immediately grabbed a pen and wrote back, "Sorry, Ivy. I was just joking. From now on, let's stick to regular dishes. I won't bring up such ridiculous things anymore." I made sure to apologize sincerely.

Carmoria. When the plane landed, I turned my phone back on. Messages poured in— all about Sonia. Of course. She lived for attention. That's why she made me propose a hundred times. Every rejection, every scene—perfect gossip bait. And I was the punchline. The headlines wouldn't stop: [Shocking! Sonia Quindt left waiting outside the County Clerk's Office—stood up?] [Sonia Quindt's mystery fiancé disappears—Borevia City in chaos!]

His next words were little more than a murmur, but they fell like thunder. “They’re in the Ghost Forest.” The chamber plunged into dead silence. None of them even dared to breathe. The tales of the Ghost Forest were infamous, passed down as warnings whispered around firesides. It was said to be a realm of mist and shadows, a place no living soul would enter willingly. One could be cast there only through a curse bound to their bloodline. Once there, no one ever returned. “This is a disaster,” Hugo’s realization broke in a whisper, his eyes wide with terror, “none of them will come back.”

I checked my phone and saw a text message from the electricity utility company. The electricity bill for this month was three thousand eight hundred dollars. I stared at that number for a full minute. Three thousand eight hundred dollars?! I lived alone. How could my electricity usage possibly be so high?! I suddenly remembered something. The faucet turned on by itself. The television switched on in the middle of the night. Meals appeared like clockwork every single day! Since when did paranormal activities run up the electric bill? Pure rage shot through me. I leaped out of bed, snatched my phone, and screamed into the empty room, “Nathaniel Simmons! Get out of here right now!

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.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, the sensor-activated lights in the corridor toggled on and off without reason, which made her feel rather nervous. In the past when they were living in the dormitory, Hazel always told ghost stories of Northtide College. The one that went around the most often was… the one about the ghost of the female teacher clothed in red who would show up at midnight inside the office building. It went as far back as twenty years ago. Back then, she had always thought of it as nothing more than a joke, but now... while she was in the middle of the corridor at midnight… Suddenly, she could hear Hazel’s ghostly whisper when she was telling the story. It replayed like a

Was she dead? All this explains why the bus didn't stop, people didn't reply to her when she waved. They couldn't see her, that was why she was found in the cemetery. Austin stared at her and took a step back, this revelation alone almost blew up his mind. She was with a Ghost? Why can he see a ghost? "Oh my God," he muttered with his voice shaking, he ran past his brother and went into his room. He locked his door quickly, trying to stop Tasha or his brother from getting in.

Vengeance has not been paid, on the contrary, it is also unjustly killed. Vera step by step closer to see the shadow, in her mind there is only one thought that there is a real ghost here. There's a broom nearby, but are ghosts afraid of brooms? As far as I know, garlic is the most effective thing to keep the spirit from coming near me, so she needs a piece of garlic in her body, but the garlic is not in her body right now, it's in the fridge, and the ghost is in the kitchen, what do you get?