Dash Quest Ghost Lantern Novels & Stories

He looks at me and nods once. Permission granted. Tonight the pack answers to the storm queen. 4:30 p.m. – Ohio Club basement Al Capone and thirty of the hardest ghosts in the afterlife are cleaning spectral tommy guns and pouring ghost-gin into flasks. Frankie Yale hands me a sawed-off made of pure moonlight. Frankie: “Point and think loud, doll. It’ll sing for you.” Al himself just tips his hat. Al: “Tonight we finish what we started in ’33.

But they all felt so fucking real. Jesus! The thought of having sex with a ghost made me sick all over. My stomach knotted as a full-blown terror took root. A fever ran down my body and my skin gallop with goose pimples. "Do you see her?" his question brought me back to reality. I nodded slowly. "So those times I see you talking to yourself, it is her you are talking to?" I motioned. "Jesus!" he exclaimed. "You need deliverance with serious prayers oh!"

Cans of gasoline & diesel fuel lying on the dirt floors. As I move further inside, the dust particles reflect the flashlight from my phone, giving off a shimmering effect. I worry not about snakes, roaches, or any winged insect that would suddenly fly into me. All I could my attention was the presence prowling through the corner. I could feel him. He doesn’t even bother to silence his footsteps, following closely behind me. “What now? Aren’t you going to tell me who my phantom is?” I gibed, pivoting on my heels so quickly, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but I met none.

She noticed Damon in the car which was coming towards her. Her car suddenly lost the interest and she quickly turned the steering, taking the sharp turn. Damon's car was about to collide with her but he also took the shape turn just like her and their cars rounded each other like fishes of Pisces. Damon cursed when their cars stopped and her jerked out of the door. "Fuck!" He noticed the gypsy which was following her. "Bastards!" He opened his window and continuously shot the engine of the gypsy which caught fire making gypsy flew out of the road with the blast.

My hands curled at my sides. One stepped closer. Its muzzle was cracked like porcelain, its eyes hollow but aware. The spiral light bled through its chest in slow rotations. “You carry more than breath,” it whispered. “You carry a howl unfinished.” My pulse stuttered. The hum faltered, waiting. I looked into the ghost’s face and saw a trace of my own. The same jaw. The same scar. The same stubborn mouth. “I am not finished yet,” I said. The light shuddered through the circle. The spirits did not vanish. They only swayed, slow as wind through long grass.

3F: anyone else’s balcony trying to detach itself 5A: power flickering on west side 2D (Luca): if we die can I have Ember’s boots Ember: absolutely not Ghost: Luca I will haunt you first She huffed a quiet laugh, but then the building shuddered—deep, structural, wrong. Outside, something cracked, not thunder but closer, more immediate. “Ghost,” she said quietly, her voice laced with unease. “I heard it,” he replied instantly, his tone alert. The lights cut out, emergency strips flickering on in their place, dust sifting from the ceiling like fine snow. Another violent sound tore through the building—wood splitting, metal screaming in protest. “Ember,” Ghost snapped urgently. “Move—”

As they stepped into the cool, damp air of the night, the rain had transformed into a light drizzle, misting the surroundings in a haze. The world outside felt lush and alive, yet ominous with an undercurrent of uncertainty. George led the way, Elora and Maya close behind, each step bringing them closer to a sanctuary that felt both like a refuge and a line crossed. "Stay close," George advised, casting a watchful glance over his shoulder. "We don't know who might be watching."

“No. But I should have. Guys like you usually bring them with you.” I smirked. “Guys like me?” “Leather, tattoos… gunshot wound,” he said dryly. “You scream of trouble.” He wasn’t wrong. “And you don't want any of that?” “Name’s Ash,” I muttered when he didn't reply and finally regretted it. Where were we? Tenth grade? I was watching him move around the small room tending to my wounds with precision. “Noah.” He finally said, not looking up. “Thanks, Noah.”

The crack blazed brighter than ever. For a long moment no one moved. The clearing was silent except for the hiss of the crack in the marker and the distant retreat of paws through underbrush. Mist drifted back in to fill the space where the pack had stood. Ava pulled herself upright against the stone. Her hands trembled. The silver glow had withdrawn into the token but left a faint shimmer under her skin, like moonlight trapped in her veins. She could still hear the echo of the whisper, softer now but insistent: Daughter of ash…

She unfastened Luke’s belt and touched him when out of nowhere, they heard a noisy beating on the entryway. Luke quickly clasped his jeans and got into his shirt. He views Daphny as she gets into her shirt and jeans too. Luke inquires, “Who’s there?” There was no response, so Luke advised Daphny to snatch something. Daphny snatched the polished ash just close to them. The lights began flashing, so Daphny sticks to Luke’s arms as Luke gradually turned the handle. It out of nowhere, blasted open, hitting Luke’s brow so hard it began dying.