Fiction: The Ghost Lover; A Gothic, Californian Tale

Fourteen years ago, I wrote a story that was unlike anything I had tried before. Around the same time, I was penning other tales that have since found their way onto Amazon. But there’s something about The Ghost Lover that stands out to me even after all these years. It’s not just the story itself—it’s the choices I made while writing it, the risks I took, and the strange connection I still feel to its haunted narrative.

First, there’s its simplicity. I wrote it to sound like a conversation, almost as if you and I were sitting across from each other, sipping coffee—or maybe whiskey, depending on the mood—and I was recounting something both intimate and otherworldly. You see, I have a habit of overindulging in description, as if every sentence has to paint the Sistine Chapel. With The Ghost Lover, I stripped things back, allowing the words to carry more weight. It was an experiment, but it worked.

Second, this was the first time I ventured into first-person narration. Up until then, I had only written in third person, keeping a safe distance from my characters, like a polite observer. But memoirs have taught me one thing: I’m great at talking about myself. So why not lean into that skill, but through someone else’s voice? Enter Alex, the protagonist. He’s broken, haunted, and just the right amount of unreliable. Writing from his perspective was like stepping into someone else’s skin—and what a skin to inhabit.

So, who is Alex? Picture a young man wandering the shadowy corners of California, grappling with questions that are too heavy for his shoulders but too consuming to ignore. He’s a little rough around the edges—maybe he uses drugs, maybe he doesn’t. (Spoiler: he probably does.) But his obsession isn’t just chemical; it’s emotional, and it’s wrapped around the mysterious death of the woman he claims to have loved more than life itself.

Ah, but here’s the twist. This isn’t just any love story—it’s gothic, Californian gothic to be precise. Think foggy coastlines, crumbling mansions, and the eerie silence of the night punctuated by whispered secrets. But instead of 19th-century castles and rain-soaked moors, we have cracked sidewalks, dimly lit diners, and the lingering scent of ocean air.

And then there’s the ghost. Not a spectral figure rattling chains or floating through walls, but something more intimate, more… tactile. Alex insists he’s made love to this otherworldly presence, and in his words, he felt every single, exquisite moment of it. He describes her touch with such vividness that you almost believe him—almost. Is he mad? Hallucinating? Or is he onto something no one else can see?

But The Ghost Lover isn’t just about paranormal romance (if you can even call it that). It’s also a detective story—minus the trench coat and badge. Alex isn’t Sherlock Holmes; he’s just a guy searching for answers, driven by grief, guilt, and maybe a little madness. He’s determined to uncover the truth behind her death, even if it destroys him. And as the story unfolds, you realize that his journey isn’t just about solving a mystery; it’s about confronting the parts of himself he’s tried to bury.

This story holds a special place in my heart because it taught me to take risks, to step out of my comfort zone, and to let my characters breathe—even if that means breathing in the salty air of a California beach while wrestling with ghosts, both literal and figurative.

So, if you’re in the mood for something dark, romantic, and just a little bit insane, give The Ghost Lover a read. Who knows? You might even feel the chill of her touch, too.