There’s something I can’t resist about a book that lingers long after I’ve finished it. Not the ones that tie everything up with a neat bow—but the ones that sit heavy in my chest. The ones that feel like they whispered something strange and beautiful right before they left me alone in the dark.

I love books that leave me a little haunted.
Not always in a scary way (though I do love a good chill up my spine), but in that quiet, aching way that gets under your skin. Maybe it’s a lonely gothic setting that feels more alive than the characters. Maybe it’s a line of prose that hits like a spell. Maybe it’s a twist that makes me question everything I thought I understood.

The truth is, I don’t always want to feel safe when I read.
I want to be unsettled. I want to feel something.
Even if that something keeps me up at night.

These books remind me that there’s beauty in the eerie. That it’s okay to be a little sad, a little spooked, a little soft around the edges. That haunted doesn’t always mean broken—it can mean marked. Changed. Awake.

So if you’re like me—drawn to stories with creeping shadows, lingering grief, or characters that feel like ghosts—you’re not alone. Those are the books I treasure most. The ones that haunt me in the best possible way.