Novel & Cerita Living With Ghosts Book

I sat there for a long time, trying to digest everything. It turned out my ghost housemate used to be a legend at the company that I now worked at. I shut my laptop, my feelings all tangled up. I asked, "So, you're only stuck here because of the car accident… Is that it?" After a long silence, Ivy's voice echoed faintly in my head. It was soft and almost drifting. "It wasn't an accident." My heart lurched. Before I could ask anything else, her voice faded away.

Granny looked into the nursery. “Peace.” I didn’t answer. Instead, I sat on the floor between the two cribs and closed my eyes. For the first time in what felt like forever—I breathed without fear. But I knew deep down… Eliora wasn’t done. Not truly. Because people like her don’t vanish. They wait. They rewrite. And sometimes, they return as ghosts.

“Some ghosts don’t haunt you with screams. They haunt you with resemblance.” Leora stared at the violet. Pressed flat. Fragile. Dry as ash. And yet somehow, alive. Like it had been waiting—not just in this room, but across time. Across silence. Like it had known she’d return. That eventually, she’d come back here, open the book, and see it. Not as a flower. But as a message. A trace. A warning. A ghost trapped between pages.

“The world you know is only one layer of many. Thin and blind. Humans walk through it as if they are the only ones who matter. But beneath your feet, above your heads, just beyond the veil of your senses… live the others.” I saw glimpses as she spoke, blinding flashes of creatures my mind struggled to name. “Vampires,” she said, and I saw pale faces and crimson mouths, eyes like glass, cloaks billowing in alleys soaked with blood. “Not the charming monsters from your films. Real ones. Old ones. Bound by blood and ancient pacts. They feed not just on life, but on memory, on fear.” Another flash. “Ghosts,” she whispered. “Spirits caught between deaths. Some gentle. Most not. They live in the c

He often slammed his head against the walls of his cell, blood streaming down his face as he repeated the same broken words over and over, "I was wrong… I was wrong…" The police arranged a proper burial for my daughter and me. On the day of our funeral, my daughter and I, now spirits, slowly began to fade away. In those final moments, my daughter clutched my hand tightly and asked in a soft voice, "Mommy, can we be together in the next life too?" I smiled warmly and nodded, my gaze full of love and certainty. Perhaps the God heard our prayers. In the next life, I awoke to a morning filled with golden sunlight, lying on a soft, cozy bed. Beside me, my daughter stood, holding a small bouquet o

“We’ve got a fucking ghost. Someone smart. Someone close. Someone careful.” And that, more than anything, was what terrified me. Because ghosts didn’t make noise. Ghosts slipped through cracks. Ghosts could sit beside you at dinner and laugh at your jokes and call you family while plotting your death. I looked up at him, my breath shaking. “Then I guess it’s time we start looking for ghosts.” And Zach, he didn’t smile. He just nodded once. Because if it was us or them? It wasn’t going to be us. Not this time.

A muttered answer, clipped, eyes still avoiding mine. I drop my hands to my sides. Ghosts. That’s what it felt like. Living with ghosts who were afraid of the living. And I had no phone. No one to talk to. The quiet pressed down on me, wrapped around my chest like a tight band, and I sucked in a shaky breath.

The remnants of someone’s bedroom that was long forgotten about crashed around us. We screamed in terror. I was beginning to fear the house was going to fall down on us. We continued to hear the sound of slamming and fighting happening through the house. I was clawing at everything to try and find an escape. Out of nowhere, a book dropped in my lap. It was old. It looked like it used to be cream colored with purple lace. This matches Gabrielle’s style. I saw a key lock. Suddenly, a key dropped from the binding of the book. It was a diary of some kind. I think Gabrielle’s spirit or someone wants me to have this. I shoved it into my bag and peaked out the door. I could tell it was still not s

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.

He stood straight with a serious face as he began his explanation. "Ghosts are the souls of dead humans who... well, aren't ready to rest in peace. They don't have powers. All they can do is move from one place to another without being seen. Well, not by everyone though." "But... if you're a demon, why then are you in this form?" She couldn't help but ask.