A Ghost Story Novels & Stories

"Wait. I need to know. Why did, uhm, whatever, carelessly pick me?" "Go back." The woman wasn't paying her any attention. She kept on plucking cowries and attaching them to her head. "What is he? Oh, don't answer that one. He's a ghost. I know that. Why is he in that state? No, no, why can I see him? Why can l feel his touch, ghosts can't do that, can they? What does he need me for?" The old woman stopped her scaly hands from further movements and stared directly at Geneva through her foggy eyes that obviously saw clearly.

Vengeance has not been paid, on the contrary, it is also unjustly killed. Vera step by step closer to see the shadow, in her mind there is only one thought that there is a real ghost here. There's a broom nearby, but are ghosts afraid of brooms? As far as I know, garlic is the most effective thing to keep the spirit from coming near me, so she needs a piece of garlic in her body, but the garlic is not in her body right now, it's in the fridge, and the ghost is in the kitchen, what do you get?

Those eyes lifted and locked on mime and the glass instantly stopped moving. “The dead has no business with the living, Riven Cole,” he said, voice low enough that only I heard the tremor under it. “We don't tend to corpses here.” I crossed the distance, my boots leaving wet prints on sawdust, then I placed my hands on the counter and said in a low voice, “Then pour one for a ghost.” The room seemed to respond to my words like they heard me, a hush spreading round. I heard a chair scraping the ground and seconds later, someone in the back muttered “traitor”.

”I believe it's a ghost that possessed her? "So it's a ghost which possessed her," I asked. "Yes, i believe so," she answered me. She moved toward the bookshelf, pulling down a thin, leather-bound volume that looked like it hadn't been opened in a century. "You know how spirits linger until what anchors them is gone?" I nodded to that. It was basic lore—every shifter knew that ghosts needed a reason to stay in the physical world.

The possessive way he fucked me like he both hated and needed me. I forced a grin. “You’re crazy, man. You watch too many movies.” He stepped aside but whispered as I passed, “Run while you still can. He’ll ruin you.” Later that day, I overheard two employees gossiping near the cafeteria. “Did you hear about The Ghost? Some billionaire who shows up masked at underground parties. Pays good money, fucks like a demon, then vanishes. Nobody ever sees his face.” I laughed it off again. But deep inside of me, i was worried for myself.

“Hello?” No one answered at first. I thought it was either a wrong number or a prank call. I sat up slightly. “Hello?” I called out once again. There was a faint crackle on the other end. Then a distorted voice spoke. “I know you’re Ghost.” Then I could hear them hang up.

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.

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.

Ghosts must be real. The ghost stories here are too many to keep track of, although Leonard knew them all. "Which story is this ghost from, Leonard?" I had a bit of liquid courage left. Leonard didn't answer me but I had hope that he'd hit the security button at his desk. It was a silent alarm. Then it spoke. "I guess you could say a ghost and I share a few things in common, but no love, I'm no ghost. Tethered spirits and lost souls are what humans call "ghosts"."

she went back to the gap looked at the stars as she talked to herself. she wished her life was perfect like what the neighbors thought of it. she went down on her knees and pleaded before going to bed. Baraka, the boy living subsequent house to mercy, was at the dining table by himself, his parents were out on a business trip as usual. after he’s done with his meal, he went to bed, took his phone and called mercy to say goodnight. ‘‘I can bill the gloom in your speech even from the phone, so what’s going on with you?’’ baraka commanded