Novels About Ghosts Novels & Stories

Have you ever seen a ghost? I have. They are warped by the most gruesome magic. If something as beautiful and pure such as a soul had a dark side it would be a ghost. A twisted reality. Ghosts were always hungry, hunting for life's energy. They are never satisfied. They just want more and more until there is nothing left. I was afraid of ghosts because on my 9th birthday, my father dearest set a family of them on me. They loomed at the foot of my bed, hid underneath it, and floated above me. They never fed, they just watched. They gave me nightmares.

I placed both my hands on my waist, trying to support my tired body as Dr Vicky covered the body up. “ Will you stay here and wait until your friends arrive?” She asked. “ Um…… I don't know, do you want to leave?” “ kind of, yeah”. “ Oh, but then where can I stay?” I asked. I damn wasn't ready to be left alone in a room with a dead body. There was seriously nothing to be afraid of, but I think I kind of unconsciously believed in the paranormal, and the thought that Edwina's ghost would probably be following her dead body around just threw me off. What if her ghost got so angry and unleashed it's wrath on me? I mean, yeah, I was the good guy, fighting for Justice and the right course, but who

Rosenthal to me? Right then, the door behind me squeaked open, causing my heart to skip a beat. My arms shot up, pointing the gun in the direction of the door. I peered in to find the bedroom empty. Bracing myself, I entered slowly with dread pumping through my veins. Her bedroom was home to an endless collection of books, and a double-wide bookcase, covering the majority of the wall, held an extensive variety of the occult genre. Interesting... Mrs. Una Rosenthal was a woman with secrets. Dark ones.

" I remembered staring down the dog I have never seen standing in front of your apartment. I remembered that I love lying down on this couch. I remembered the direction of your room even though I am not sure I have been there. I am sure that if I think deeper I will remember how your foodstuffs in your cabinets are arranged, I don't even know how I know that you have cabinets. You have to tell me why I know these things before I go insane. " Maisie sat close to Zach. " if I do tell you about it, you would think that I am crazy. " Zach froze at that. " that is my nickname for you isn't it. " Zach asked as Maisie released another gasp in shock. " It was. " Maisie said softly. " before you left

“I was in and out of sleep.” “Thoughts of Titanic?” He turned to face her now, and he was sitting more closely than she thought prudent. “Sometimes,” she shrugged. “Most of my ghosts reside elsewhere.” He closed his eyes and turned his head away. “I’m sorry, Meg.” “I don’t need your sympathy either,” she reminded him, though her tone was just as innocent as his had been. “I suppose not,” he admitted, turning back to face her. “But you have it just the same.”

"That is exactly the point of writing it there. Not to tell us something true. To make us stop trusting the people who are actually still loyal, one careful drop of doubt at a time, until none of us can tell friend from ghost anymore." Rosa appeared in the doorway then, wrapped in a shawl despite the warmth of the kitchen, her eyes moving from my face to the ledger and back again with the particular dread of a mother who has learned to read a room before anyone speaks a single word to her. "What has that book done to all of you," she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "It has given us a ghost to be afraid of," I said, "instead of a person." "Ghosts are worse," Rosa said simply. "You ca

I sighed and prepared to microwave a box of macaroni and cheese. But when I turned around, I spotted a note pressed under something on the table. It was in Nathaniel’s familiar handwriting, though this time, his note held a hint of cold anger. [Wasteful.] I was stunned for a moment before I burst out laughing. This ghost was not just a good cook, but he was also thrifty and responsible. I liked that. I immediately picked up a pen and wrote back. [My bad, Nat. It’s just a joke. Let’s just stick to homemade food from now on. I won’t bring up that extravagant nonsense again, okay?]

She opened it—pages parting easily now, as though the book recognized her exhaustion and offered no resistance. She flipped past the early chapters she had already memorized. Deeper. To the sections she had only skimmed before, too afraid to linger. *Control of the Undead* The script here was denser, colder. Diagrams of binding circles, sigils of domination, lists of names for the restless dead. Zombies—simple thralls of flesh, bound by will alone. Ghouls—carrion-eaters, drawn by hunger, controlled through offerings of meat and bone.

He told me there was a book in his office that had the safe hidden inside. The book was about ghost towns, so he doubted Zane would have found it. That is when I learned that Zane was afraid of ghosts. At first, I thought it was funny, that Zane feared something that wasn’t real until I thought about it. If werewolves and other creatures were real, maybe ghosts were too. Thinking that, a chill ran down my spine, causing me to shiver. It wasn’t funny after all, because if ghosts were real, I would be afraid too.

“And… When Layla started working there, I felt that feeling even more. Like I wasn’t ever alone. Like I could look over my shoulder and find someone–something watching me from afar.” “What did that feel like to you?” Helen asks calmly. “That’s an odd question.” I chuckle, shrugging. “I guess… it didn’t feel threatening. Maybe… bored curiosity? That changed, though, when all the weird things started happening to Layla, and when we found out what Vera was doing to Miss Penny it got worse.” Chills erupt all over my skin. I shake them away. “Do you believe in ghosts, Helen?” “Oh, of course. You can’t live in the deep south without holding some belief about the spirits that linger here.”