07 Ghost Characters Novels & Stories

There was fresh blood on the floor, but the animal didn't react. I took a shaky step forward, my heart hammering against my ribs. The wolf didn't turn. I walked closer, standing five feet away and holding my bleeding hand out. Nothing. I walked until I was standing right next to the bars, inches from the cold metal. The wolf threw itself at the cage again, trying to get to Declan. Its claws sparked against the iron. It ignored me completely. I was invisible. "You really are a Ghost," Declan said softly. He walked up beside me. He raised the knife again and sliced his own palm.

The way he had in the basement library, when he was trying to decide if he could trust me. "Ghost doesn't take money," he said. "He doesn't take favors. He takes pieces of people. Memories. Secrets. Things you can't get back." "Then we make sure we don't give him anything we can't afford to lose." --- The number on Miriam's card connected after two rings. A voice answered. Not male. Not female. Something in between. Processed through a modulator, scrambled beyond recognition. "You reached the line," the voice said. "State your business."

"They aren't frozen soldiers. They’re data-ghosts with physical weight." One of the ghosts stepped out of the light. It moved with a terrifying, unnatural speed, its hand extending into a jagged blade of hard-light. It didn't scream. It just hissed—the sound of a thousand deleted files. Kaelor didn't hesitate. He dived under the ghost’s strike, his knife finding the creature’s throat. There was no blood. Just a spray of blue sparks and the smell of burning plastic. The ghost didn't die; it just flickered, its wound knitting back together instantly.

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 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.

He then spoke, pointing at Ghost, who by the way was still bouncing around in the flowers. Oh crap, I totally forgot about him! I mentally slapped myself, then turned to the side, “Oh my god, Ghost, get back here!” I shouted at the crazed husky. “Ghost?” The guy instantly asked confused. “Yeah, she’s a total Game of Thrones fan,” Kara explained giggling. “Oh...” He mumbled, while I was still looking at Ghost, who was heading towards me, but suddenly stopped in his tracks and started howling like a crazed wolf.

Rebecca "Yes even though we couldn't catch any footage of it, there where some blur is seen in some cameras even though it was not clear it passing through the walls suddenly appearing and disappearing from one place to another, we think it was a ghost type and a very powerful one" Giovanni "A Ghost-type, Hmm come here and get on your knees and relive my stress" Rebecca didn't question and went towards Giovanni and went on her knees and unzipped his pants to do her work, she knew Giovanni was pissed and wouldn't be good for her if she refused or didn't do it properly.

FALLING FOR A GHOST 3 - For Nevaeh is back from the land of the dead with a single purpose; avenge her own death and that of her sister, Heaven. Uche, a good-looking young man in his early twenties, who also happens to be an atheist has been unlucky with women in his previous relationships, he seeks true love and hopes to find it if only it existed.

I hadn’t been back in years, but tonight, it served a different purpose. I took the booth in the far corner, where shadows clung thick and loyal. Across from me sat a ghost. Not Matteo Santoro himself, of course—Matteo was a phantom best left off-stage until the final act. No, this was one of his old soldiers. A man who had been broken, bought, and mothballed for years. Tonight, he was resurrected for a single role: to be seen. We didn’t need words. That wasn’t the point.

Even if she did, she'd blame it on the wind. "Ghost?" Sharon was becoming concerned, "I thought you don't believe in such things?" "Really? Oh, em." Geneva cleared her throat and spoke confidently, "that's true, I am not scared by flimsy things such as ghooosts!" The last word Sharon heard was the word 'ghosts' being screamed into her eardrums before she heard nothing else. The phone had fallen and disassembled and the call, disconnected.