Novels About Ghosts Novels & Stories

Charli I knew it was my imagination. Nox's home in Rye wasn't Montague Manor. There weren’t shadows lurking behind locked doors. And yet after finishing dinner and retiring to the room Silvia referred to as mine, the one where Nox had brought me earlier in the day, I had the strange sensation of being surrounded by knowing spirits. They were the ghosts of occupants past. Not literal ghosts. There weren't white floating figures swirling about the room; nevertheless, I felt a strange combination of safety and danger—a reassuring calm in the interior stillness while an alarm wailed beyond the walls.

Layla, still shaking, lifted a trembling hand and pointed toward the window. “A ghost,” she whispered. “It’s a ghost.” “Ghost?” Lucian echoed, walking toward the window. She nodded frantically, clinging to him like a frightened child. He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head when he noticed her phone lying open on the bed. “You were reading a ghost novel?” he asked flatly. Layla nodded. “But I heard something. I swear.” “It’s just dry branches and leaves rustling,” he said calmly. “Nothing else.”

Some were made of leather, others of scales, and some in what might have been human skin. In the center, a pool of black water reflected no light. “The Library of Things That Were,” the ghost announced. “Every book here tells of the old agreement, the first prophecies. The Bridge especially.” Tamara moved to the nearest shelf. The books whispered as she passed, like they recognized her. “This one,” the ghost said, pulling out a book that looked like a piece of the night sky. “Start here.” Tamara opened it. The words weren't English. Weren't any language she knew. But she understood them.

Slowly, she stepped back, but the bus just waited, its entrance gaping open like a whale ready to swallow her whole. Willa wasn’t stupid. She knew danger when she saw it. “Hey…” she screamed, but nothing came out. Her voice didn’t go beyond her ears. At only twenty-one, she had become the most sought-after ghostwriter in the country. Platforms like Ellalux, Febnovel, and even the mighty master of webnovels, Koodnovel, had sought her services. Known as the horror-story specialist, she crafted dignified deaths, haunted struggles, and glorified survivals.

"You’ve cleared the site. You’ve removed the threats. Why are you still looking for ghosts?" He gripped my waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of my dress. "Because ghosts are the only things that can walk through walls, Eden. And Silas Vane is the best ghost in the business." "I haven't seen him; I doubt I'll see him while I'm indoors," I said, the lie tasting like copper in my mouth. "He’s just a name in a file to me now."

Kai notices this confusion and pulls Irene to sit down before notebook out of his bag. "Okay, here. I'll try to make it as simple as I possibly can," Kai says. "We know that there are a few types of people when it comes to being connected to the world of ghosts and spirits, those who can see and actually interact with it to the point of even working together with spirits, people who can sense the presence of spirits, and people who are lucky enough to be completely unaware of their presence whether they believe in them or not." "Wait, why would you consider the last category lucky?" Irene asks. If Kai wants her to understand this topic clearly, he better tolerate her treating this like a tut

“Just look at them. They only have those few things to say, such as me having a mental problem, being indecent, promiscuous, and fooling around with men like the female lead. They insist that the characters in the novel are a reflection of the author. What a joke.” The author chuckled as she went on, “I’m single and I don’t care about men at all. I’ve been traveling around the world. How would I have time to fool around with men? Based on their logic, authors who write ghost stories are ghosts themselves, and those who write murder mysteries and criminals too? How stupid of them.” “Yeah,” Rosalie said. “Novels are all fictional and made-up. Authors write stories based on what they see and he

Tears rolls down his mom’s face while Evelyn spirit walks into the office smiling and she flashes back to how her spirit comes out of Marylyn’s body and keeps following her mom, she was feeling pitied for her at the party that she doesn’t know she was dead only for her to see her buying chemical at the chemical shop and injecting it to her drink and gives it to a waiter to bring it to Marylyn who was sited finding everything strange. She was shocked to see her mother inject the drink and wanted to give Marylyn because she thought she was the one and she when the waiter was about bringing it she entered into the waiter to control her at that moment and she changes the drink and she serves her

"I'll go back home and continue my normal life but I'll never have anything to do with ghosts anymore. I won't even do like I see them and will continue my story writing and studies." "Will you write my story, Chris?" "Never. It's a secret." I vehemently shook my head. "Why? You don't want people to know you see ghosts?" "Yes, I don't. Moreover, people hardly believe you guys exist so it's of no use writing it and trying to convince them." "But I want you to write my story, Chris. I want the world to know how I died, what caused my death, everything. Including the way, my mum cried when she found out about my death till the very end when I'm gone."

For a moment, I thought it was the scent of the ghost-some of the books I had read while growing up had mentioned that ghosts usually have scents and that’s how a few special people in the fantasy books had been able to tell that a ghost had been at a particular place or was there at the present. Now watching him, looking around the room, before his eyes came in contact with mine and stayed, I was beginning to wonder if my theory of the ghosts was true. It sure was written in fantasy books, but isn’t my life and pack, a fantasy to the reality of plain ordinary humans? Perhaps, just perhaps...the ghost theory might be right. "Did the Alpha sleep here?" He asked, peering at me closely.