This Is Not A Ghost Story Novels & Stories

She opened her mouth, and a lullaby began, but the melody cracked and faltered, the notes dissolving into the sound of the surf like tears into the sea. Liora woke with the ghost of the broken lullaby in her ears and a wetness on her own cheeks. She knew, with the certainty of a Scribe, that this was not a monster to be fought. This was a wound that had never been cleaned. A story that had never been finished. At breakfast, she told them about the dream. "A ghost?" Ronan asked, his practical nature wrestling with the supernatural. "An echo," Liora corrected. "Like the ones in the Ashen Wastes. But this one isn't trapped in a battle. She's trapped in her grief."

An actual ghost was standing in front of me, which means the ghost story was real and the only people I know to wear all-white outfits are ghosts. The ghost tried to touch me, but I moved backward and tripped over my luggage. To cut the story short, I landed on my butt. "Miss Hillary, are you alright?" The ghost asked me. The ghost could talk. I haven't seen Ghost Talk except in movies and novels, and they are not actual ghosts. "You..." I pointed to the ghost. "How are you talking right now?" I questioned the ghost.

The Ghost left them there to make their presence known. The Ghost has never been seen by the eyes of man. But the thing about Cody Colfax, he wasn't a man or a human-not to me. If I had the chance to get to know my best friend better, I would have had the guts to ask him what we all wanted to do. Why is there no food in the kitchen and pantry?

It was sold and is currently a computer shop. The End...?. ++++++++++ Female Spirit Story #1: Stolen Shots Hi guys, thanks for accepting me. I want to share a story about something that happened to me a long time ago. I was the type of person who didn’t believe in ghosts. I didn’t scare easily either. And I also thought back then that stories about them were all made up or just figments of people's wild imagination. Also, I thought that they were just created to scare others who will listen to them.

Tru nodded at me without another word and left the room. I finally found a plumber not scared of the town legend or the very real ghosts, and all I could think to ask is, why the hell is he not scared of the ghosts? I’m not sure what made me look up, but when I did, it was to see the ghost still floating mutely. What the hell does she want? To terrify me? Make me lose my mind? Guess what? Her very existence and that of others like her were already close to tipping me over the edge. I was so done with all of their shenanigans and the mind games.

" She was terrified. She trembled and clapped her hand on her mouth? It was awkward because the mansion was encircled by a concrete wall fence. "It couldn't have been an intruder. Perhaps it was a roaming dog, but they didn't own any in the mansion. It couldn't be a dog because there was no way it could have jumped over the wall fence unless it had wings. She was confused. "Oh, mother Mary, I am scared." She hauled the blanket over her head shaking tremendously. Suddenly she vividly recollected the story about ghosts; Her mother had once told her that in some families, the dead return during the night to haunt their enemies or watch over their loved ones.

We have to hear the story from someone else's point of view. Especially the main character in the story. In this case, he is Kevin. “No, I didn't feel anything strange or see a ghost… Are you sure it's the same house? You said it was a long time ago. You could have the wrong house…” Ria tried to convince Loren to review her story about the house she lived in. Right? Not that what Loren told me about was the same house, she thought. Even though in the house where Ria lived, it is true that there is a ghost of a senior high school who happens to be a basketball player… but it's not necessarily the same house.

Under the sheets, a dewy haze settled around the exhausted couple and the night predicted a fresh tale for tomorrow. * * * Ps- Vincent isn't a Vampire/Werewolf. This isn't a paranormal book.

“Why is that your first thought? Of all the supernatural things, you jump straight to ghosts?” “Yes, ghosts!” she shot back, crossing her arms. “We live in a world where vampires, werewolves, and witches are real, Lia! Ghosts aren’t that far-fetched!” “Okay, okay, fair point,” I conceded, holding up my hands. “And don’t even pretend they’re not real,” she added quickly. “I’ve heard too many stories to believe otherwise.” “Stories, huh?” I smirked. “Let me guess, you heard about some haunted house from a ‘friend of a friend’?”

Snow started falling—hard and fast. I stood there on the curb, freezing, shaking. Three hours in, my phone died. Sonia never came. Before the screen went black, one last thing flashed—Pierre's post. A selfie. Him and Sonia in front of some car, her face turned halfway. Caption: [Under the same snow, our hair turns white. Close enough to growing old together, right?] In the dead glass, my reflection stared back—smiling. Not bitter. Just done. The hundredth promise, traded for a concert and a boy toy.