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THE LAST PAGE OF BOOK

Ghost stories

By Sangeetha SPublished about a year ago 6 min read
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As an aspiring writer, Emily had always been fascinated with old, dusty books. So, when she stumbled upon a small antique bookstore during her travels, she knew she had to go in. The store was cramped, with shelves stacked high to the ceiling, and the musty smell of old paper filled the air. She wandered through the aisles, running her fingers over the spines of the books, until she came across a tattered old journal. The cover was worn and frayed, and the pages inside were yellowed with age. Emily felt drawn to it, and she knew she had to have it.

As she left the store, the old man behind the counter gave her a curious look. "Be careful with that one," he warned. "It's said to be cursed."

Emily laughed it off, thinking it was just an old man's tale. But that night, as she flipped through the pages of the journal, she felt a chill run down her spine. The writing inside was strange and otherworldly, as if it had been penned by a ghost. The last page was blank, save for a single word scrawled in the corner: "help".

Over the next few weeks, strange things began to happen to Emily. She would wake up in the middle of the night, feeling as if someone was watching her. Books would fall off her shelves, and she would hear footsteps in her apartment when no one was there. And every time she picked up the journal, she could feel a cold presence in the room with her.

Desperate for answers, Emily turned to a psychic medium. The medium took one look at the journal and shuddered. "This is no ordinary book," she said. "It's a gateway to the other side."

The medium warned Emily that the book was cursed, and that it had been written by a ghost who was trapped between worlds. The ghost had been trying to communicate with Emily, but she hadn't been able to hear him until now.

Determined to help the ghost, Emily delved deeper into the journal. She learn that the ghost was a man named Edward, who had been murdered in the 1800s. He had been a writer, just like her, and he had been working on a book when he was killed. The last page of his book had gone missing, and he had been unable to finish it before his death.

As Emily read through the journal, she began to feel a connection with Edward. She could feel his pain and his longing to finish his work. She knew she had to find the missing page of his book and help him cross over.

Using the clues in the journal, Emily tracked down the missing page. It was being held in a private collection in a nearby town. She made her way there and retrieved the page, feeling a sense of triumph as she held it in her hands.

But as she made her way back to her apartment, she felt a cold presence behind her. She turned around, but there was no one there. She quickened her pace, but the footsteps behind her grew louder and closer. She could feel a cold breath on the back of her neck.

When she got back to her apartment, she hurriedly inserted the missing page into the journal. As she did, she felt a sudden surge of energy and a gust of wind blew through the room. When she looked up, she saw Edward standing before her, his ghostly figure glowing in the dim light.

"Thank you," he whispered, before disappearing into the ether.

From that day on, Emily no longer felt the cold presence in her apartment. She knew that Edward had found peace, and that he was finally able to finish his book. As she closed the journal, she

As she closed the journal, she felt a sense of relief and closure. She knew that she had helped Edward cross over to the other side and that he could finally rest in peace.

But as Emily turned to leave the room, she felt a cold breath on the back of her neck. She froze, feeling a familiar chill run down her spine. She turned around, but there was no one there. Emily couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, and she couldn't ignore the eerie feeling that lingered in the air.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, but Emily could never shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. She tried to distract herself by focusing on her writing, but she couldn't help but feel as though someone was always looking over her shoulder.

One night, as she sat alone in her apartment, Emily heard the faint sound of footsteps. She tried to ignore it, but the footsteps grew louder and more distinct. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine as the footsteps came to a stop behind her.

Emily turned around slowly, feeling a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. She saw nothing but the empty room, but she could feel a cold presence in the air. It was as if someone was standing right behind her, watching her every move.

Suddenly, the room grew dark, and Emily felt a gust of wind blow through the room. The curtains rustled, and the pages of the journal flipped open, as if by magic. Emily felt a cold breath on the back of her neck, and she knew that she was not alone.

As she turned to face the ghostly figure, she saw the face of Edward staring back at her. His eyes were cold and lifeless, and his face was twisted in a grotesque expression.

"Thank you for helping me, Emily," he whispered, before disappearing into the darkness.

Emily was left alone in the dark room, her heart racing and her mind spinning. She realised that the ghost of Edward had never truly left her, and that he would always be with her, watching her every move.

From that day on, Emily could never shake the feeling that she was being watched. She could feel the cold presence of Edward's ghost wherever she went, and she knew that he was always with her, lurking in the shadows.

Despite her fear, Emily continued to write, and she even found success as an author. But she could never shake the feeling that she was not alone, and she knew that the ghost of Edward would always be with her, haunting her every move.

As time passed, Emily tried her best to come to terms with the presence of Edward's ghost. She even began to think of him as a sort of companion, although his constant presence could still be unsettling at times.

One night, as Emily sat at her desk, writing a new novel, she felt the cold presence of Edward's ghost behind her once again. This time, however, there was something different about his presence. It was more urgent, more urgent than ever before.

Emily turned to face him, and she saw a look of desperation in his cold, lifeless eyes. She could sense that something was wrong, and she knew that Edward's ghost needed her help once again.

"Emily, you have to help me," he pleaded, his voice barely audible.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Emily asked, feeling a sense of unease.

"I'm trapped, Emily. I'm trapped between this world and the next, and I can't find my way back," Edward said, his voice trembling.

Emily knew that she had to help him. She had helped him before, and she knew that she was the only one who could help him again. She took a deep breath and focused all of her energy on trying to communicate with Edward's ghost.

"Edward, listen to me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You need to let go of this world and move on to the next. You can't stay here forever."

Edward looked at her with a mixture of sadness and longing. Emily could sense that he was struggling to let go, but she knew that it was the only way for him to find peace.

After what felt like an eternity, Edward finally spoke.

"You're right, Emily. I need to let go. Thank you for helping me, once again," he said, before disappearing into the darkness.

Emily sat alone in the room, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. She knew that Edward's ghost had finally found peace, and that he could finally rest in peace.

From that day on, Emily never felt the presence of Edward's ghost again. She knew that he had finally moved on, and that he was at peace. Emily continued to write, but she could never forget the ghostly presence that had haunted her for so long. She knew that she would never be the same again, but she was grateful for the experience. It had taught her that there was more to this world than what she could see, and that sometimes, the things that we cannot see are the most powerful of all.

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