The Ghostwriter Novels & Stories

“Have you thought about what we discussed yet?” The memory of those early days, hunched over my laptop in the quiet solitude of my apartment, juggling ghostwriting gigs while writing books under a pseudonym, brought a wave of nostalgia. A.R Eve, the name I'd chosen - a combination of my initials and my mother's name - had become a shield, a way to navigate the world of publishing without exposing my introverted nature.

Ghost could not vanish forever because of her. When she saw the priest standing downstairs, reading from the Bible, Elowen screamed at the top of her lungs. "Stop right now! You cannot keep reading!" She rushed down the stairs, trying to knock the Bible out of the priest’s hands, but two tall, powerfully built bodyguards blocked her at once. She struggled and fought with everything she had, but it was useless. All she could do was watch helplessly as the priest continued chanting, driving the spirit away. "No! Ms. Ghost, run!"

Elian cried, his hands reaching for Leo’s tattered hoodie. "I have to sign the contract, son," Leo said, a single, human tear tracing a path through the soot on his face. "But I'm not signing as a Thorne. I'm signing as a Ghostwriter. I'm going to stay in the background of your story. Every time a machine works when it shouldn't, every time the 'Noise' protects you... that’ll be me. And Mommy." Meilin knelt beside them, her violet aura flickering one last time. She didn't look at the Editor. She looked at the man she had divorced, hated, loved, and finally understood.

—pockmarked with cigarette burns and a scar that ran from his ear to his chin, shaped like a question mark. ​"Name’s Vaughan," the Ghostwriter said, his voice a low, rhythmic growl that seemed to pace the very heartbeat of the room. He flicked a spent match into a puddle of ink. "I’m the guy they call when a story gets too 'Commercial.' Your father’s estate—the part of his soul that stayed in the 'Hard-Drive of the Forgotten'—hired me to file a stay of execution. But Director Vane doesn't play by the rules of the Book. He plays by the Budget."

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.

But your mother's about to die—I know you'll show up. Her words jolted me back to reality. I pressed a hand to my chest, where my heart ached with a dull, numbing pain. How I wished I could tell her myself. That I've been here all along. It's just that... I've been dead for four years.

I reached out and pressed the radio button on the steering wheel. My voice was cold, cutting through the static. "Mason Vale, do you see a ghost in your mirror?" I said coldly into the radio. Those words pierced straight through Mason's last line of composure. His car hesitated for an obvious instant on the straight. Now. I smashed the throttle down. The car tore through the air and pulled alongside him. Ahead was a chain of fast S-curves. Seeing that I was about to pass, a vicious look flashed through Mason's eyes.

But they didn’t hit bottom. They landed on a soft, glowing surface—a giant open book, appearing out of nowhere. Near the edge sat a young man in a t-shirt and jeans, a pencil behind his ear. He looked like any student. “Nice catch,” said the young man, smiling kindly. Maya helped Julian up and held the iron key, ready to fight. “Who are you? Are you an Editor?” “Me? No,” the kid laughed, standing up. “I’m the Ghostwriter. The Author hired me when she was too tired to finish your story. I’ve been keeping you alive while the Board tried to delete everything.”

"Is something wrong with the ending of the book or are you just happy that we do not have to worry about photographers bothering us?" Elena looked at her book, the one that made her a writer again as Nora Vale. ". " She said softly. "I was just thinking about the name 'Ghostwriter' that Silas used to find me. It is weird that a name that was supposed to help me disappear actually helped me get my life back."

Three hours staring at the same paragraph, deleting it, rewriting it, deleting it again, and it still read like a technical manual instead of a scene anyone was supposed to feel something from. Nobody knew this was me. Not Xavi, not my parents, not a single person in my actual life had any idea that the girl who couldn't get through health class without turning red was quietly ghostwriting some of the most requested erotica on three different platforms under a name that wasn't mine. It was supposed to be my secret talent. My thing. The one place I was good at something without anyone watching. Except lately I wasn't good at it. Every scene came out flat, embarrassing — and my editor had alre