Fnaf Ghosts Novels & Stories

Perhaps we have a different condition. "Can I ask you something? Are there any ghosts you have met here that have come back to their bodies and lived?" I curiously asked them, and Dylan turned his head to Clint when he answered, "I did. But very unusual. Only two out of thirty-seven. Mostly died, and some are being mercy-killed by their families. And there are twelve other wandering ghosts in this place right now, kept hoping as you do. It's expensive to keep your body alive, you know? But no problem with you; you have lots and lots of money. But your parents mentioned that they don't want you to suffer more and longer. They are also suffering, Liv. Especially your dad. He's been crying when

He pushed his glasses up his nose. "About time you got here," the kid said. His voice was high, slightly nasal. "Did you get the stuff?" Silas stepped forward, wincing. "I brought the drive. But I want to know why you are working for the woman who put a price on my head." The Ghost sighed, rolling his eyes. "I am not working for her. I am bleeding her. She thinks I am helping her launder money through the crypto markets. In reality, I am siphoning every cent she makes into a blind account."

It was displayed. My chest tightened as I lifted it with a gloved hand. The scent hit immediately, chemical, sharp, layered with something metallic underneath. Chlorine and cold steel. A smell I had not encountered in years but recognized all the same. It was the same ghost note that had clung to the air the night my parents died. This was not chaos. It was not a fight gone wrong or a rogue passing through. This was intent. Someone had gotten close enough to Owen to inject him, or had taken him elsewhere and left this behind as a message. Either option required control, preparation, and knowledge of what we were.

“Yeah. I also remember you were the one counting the cash.” The room went dead quiet. For a heartbeat, I thought he might hit me. Instead, he laughed — loud, bitter, forced. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.” He turned away, still laughing. “You think you can dig up ghosts and not end up joining them?” “I’m not scared of ghosts,” I said. He stopped, turned just enough to show me the edge of his smirk. “You should be. The living are worse.” He snapped his fingers, and Flint stepped forward, holding out a set of car keys.

… Three days later, Helena's assistant, Eli Jennings, timidly handed over a report. "Ms. Shaw, there's no trace. Nathan disappeared seven years ago. Even his bank accounts were closed…" "Useless!" Helena snapped, tossing the report to the floor. The papers were scattered across the office. She walked to the windows, looking down at the city lights, her gaze sharp and merciless. "I don't believe a living man can just vanish. If he's hiding, he won't escape my wrath forever." "Ms. Shaw, are you saying—" Helena's lips curved into a cruel smile. "I hear she has kidney failure and needs regular dialysis. Halt her treatment immediately."

Dante muttered beside me, already pulling out his phone. The blue glow of the screen lit up his face as he dialed rapidly, stepping aside and barking into the phone. "What the fuck is going on? Kill that signal now. Now!" But no matter how many calls he made, the masked man didn't vanish. He only flickered on the screen every now and then. "My name..." the man announced. "Is Ghost." "And I mean no harm…if you just listen." I frowned, confused. But for some reason, I still listened. There was some kind of mystery around this "Ghost" that instantly made me eager to hear what he had to say.

“Privacy mode. If someone’s listening, they’ll get a meditation podcast.” Wolfgang eyed a rack of custom boards. “You built all this in a suburban basement?” Pauly shrugged. “NBN’s legit if you know whose traffic you’re borrowing.” Jack set a palm on a cleared corner of desk. “We’re hunting the pipeline pushing Supernatural. Wharf to warehouse to casino. We need ghost eyes—spoofed cams, sealed comms, access to freight manifests that don’t exist.”

The only other people who knew who he was, were Gunn and the triplets. "I'm Aaron Muron, many of you may know me as Ghost. I'm the godfather of the mafia. The founder of Muron Springs." The room broke out in shocked gasps and whispers. Fear settled on their faces as they watched him, wondering what his next move would be. As the story goes, whoever saw Ghost, didn't live to tell the tale. "I want to enter a partnership with you all. This could be the start of something beautiful." He said, biting into his bottom lip.