Ghost Cry Novels & Stories

Kayla was on her other side, quiet and solid, one gentle hand resting on Emily’s shoulder, steady as stone. The Vipers filled the room — Grim at the head, Tank and Hawk leaning forward with dark eyes, Cherry braced in the doorway, smoke curling from her cigarette. And Ghost, pale and still, standing at the far end of the table, his shadow stretching long in the swing of the overhead bulb. Silence pressed in, thick enough to choke. No one spoke. They were waiting for Ghost. His pale eyes swept the table, then landed on Emily. For the first time, she saw the cracks — not weakness, but grief carved deep, the kind a man carried for decades.

The greenish-blue glow was a little off, but nearly every single window was wide open! The frost wraith, Chloe, floated to the front. Her little face was wrinkled with worry. The Hungry Dead clutched his precious empty bowl. His drool threatened to spill from the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were full of concern. The banshee had stopped crying, sniffing and staring upward. The Poltergeist was holding some random rusty pipe, looking ready to charge up and tear the building apart… There were also the Hanged Ghost, Shadow Sneak, Pipe Phantom…

She had told him about their scary and terrifying figures and their names. The one who was a tall and had gaunt figure with sunken eyes that glowed like smoldering coals was named Morgrath. Her black robes hung loosely around her skeletal frame, giving her an air of ethereal menace. Morgrath was a master of necromancy, capable of commanding the spirits of the departed to do her bidding. Seraphina had told him was said that she wore jewellery made out of the bones and cursed artifacts, which were remnants of her twisted experiments.

Christopher and Zyter exchanged a fierce glance, their determination unshakeable. Suddenly, the tranquility shattered as the Blood Ghosts emerged from the darkness. They materialized before the hunters, their red eyes glowing with malice. The sight sent shivers down Christopher's spine, but he steadied himself, gripping his sword tightly. The Ghosts were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless.

I gave up, wondering how I could find the answers I needed. Trisha. Her name popped up in my mind like a neon sign. I checked the time. Yeah, she should be already awake from her usual Saturday night parties. I was about to call her when I wondered how much I should tell her. As little as possible, I decided, and dialed her. Trisha’s always been a little weird on the spooky side, and lucky me, I only needed to tell her I was curious about communication with ghosts for her to recommend several YouTube channels about ghost hunting.

"You can show your friend." Harvey picks stuff out of the mess of a medical bin, and when he uses an antibacterial wipe, Perry tries hard not to let the stinging show on his face. "You're pretty tough, you know that?" Harvey says. "When I was bit, I cried and cried, but you're a champ. Do you know what the ghost looked like?" Perry sniffles. "Like a lady with glowing eyes." "Woah," Harvey plays along, but my nerves are still rattling. "Did you catch it in a video?"

The air was still cold, the temperature having dropped significantly due to the Echo Wraith. The Echo Wraith is a haunting presence within the Cavern of Eternal Echoes, a place known for its labyrinthine complexity and the disturbing resonance of every sound. It glides silently through the caverns, leaving behind a trail of maddening echoes. These echoes are warped, amplified distortions that play on the deepest insecurities and fears of those who hear them. They take on the voices of the damned, whispering hidden regrets and unconfessed sins, often blending them with a cacophony of falsehoods to disorient and unsettle their victims.

The sound of my own shoulder grinding was the only thing louder than the billion screaming ghosts. Ga-chi. Ga-chi. I didn’t reach into Serena’s chest with a hand; I reached with a weapon. My left arm—the necrotic, senseless slab of stone—punched through the white silk of her shroud and into the indigo void where her heart should have been. There was no resistance. No wet thud of muscle. Only a biting, terminal chill that raced up my nerves, colliding with the petrification already hardening my collarbone.

The scream echoed through the room and Derek, who was sleeping beside him, stirred. Lewis clutched the blanket to his chest, staring at Derek like he had just seen a ghost. “WHAT THE HELL?!” he shouted again. Then the memories started flooding back. The mansion, the stripper club he found, the mysterious man that called him, and the drink he gave him. His memories didn't stop there. He remembered how he was the one flirting with the man. Despite his confused state, embarrassment washed over him. “Oh my God!” Lewis screamed again, covering his face with both hands. “No, no, no, no, no.”

With a click, the clasp came undone, and the pendant fell to the floor. In a flash, Zoe’s eyes widened. She grabbed my collar like a madwoman. “Y-You… You didn’t switch fates? You lied to me?!” I looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” Miles suddenly exclaimed, “Ow, Maisie. My neck feels itchy.” He pulled down his collar, exposing his collarbone, and clearly revealed who was actually wearing the demonic fate-swapping lock.