Good Ghost Stories Novels & Stories

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.

No one knew he and Sonia were a thing, so the place went feral with gossip. "Did you hear? Hedley's gone!" "What? When?"

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!

Subtle, but I notice everything. Klaus de Luca. He didn’t see me as he entered a room alone. I didn’t hesitate. Silently, smoothly, I followed. The door was just starting to close when— CRASH! A vase flew at my head. I ducked instinctively, the ceramic shattering against the wall behind me. I straightened slowly, blade already drawn. Then I heard his voice. Low. Calculated. “So... you’re the Ghost Knife. The woman with no past. No future. Who sent you ? .”

She just wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. Travis Blake suddenly stopped, but he didn’t put her down. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as he said, “Are you afraid of watching horror movies? What about ghost stories? Imagine countless hands reaching out from the cemetery graves in the middle of the night. They grab your feet, and behind the tombstones lie the ghosts of the dead.” Hailey looked at Travis Blake, horrified. With such a blank face, this man was talking to her about horror movies and ghost stories in a cemetery!

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