Ghost Diary Novels & Stories

Marcus cast his eyes down as his shame covered him like a new winter’s coat. “ For now,Noah, please just trust me.” For a while after Noah left his room, Marcus stared up at the ceiling, feeling like the lowest form of life for lying to his best friend. How could he possibly explain to him that his dad and new girlfriend were being haunted by an ancient spirit, the same one who haunted his gran and her sister years before? “ Hello Marcus.” The voice which suddenly interrupted his thoughts, was melodious and familiar. Marcus looked to his side and by the light of the moon beaming through the window, he saw her.

HIBARA THAT INSIGNIA OF a ghost winking and with a laughing smile holding out a high-five was something I’d seen in my dearest father’s case files before. It seems that this internationally famous thief, Ghost Hand, was someone that the Greatest Consulting Detective of the Century can’t even capture. Of course, Mom has no access to the police files of the Theft-Robbery-Burglary Division since she’s in the CID. “Why are there a lot of kids here?” A voice that could make me roll my eyes sounded from behind.

He was worried that the reaper brought a corpse back from the Forbidden Forest because if that happened, he would have a lot to explain to Queen Reality. "She fainted." "Huh?" "She saw my face." "...without the hood?" "Yes." Horan bit his lips, holding in the urge to laugh. "Never mind," he said, dismissing his vile urge, "take her to the sick bay." The Grim Reaper went to the sick bay that was prepared for lost humans. At the register counter, the attending snail asked, "May I have the name of the patient please?" "Vanzie." "Full name?" "..."

If the holder of the diary fulfilled certain conditions, then the diary will guide them to find whatever the original owner of the book wanted to keep hidden. Now, the first two spells were something Jester had expected to see. This was supposed to be a personal diary, some sort of record of posterity, something to be passed down so that the Gaian people would at least exist in the memories of their descendants. He thought that if there were other Gaians who survived that Incident and were living in the other worlds pretending to be mortal, they may have done the same.

" Wow! It doesn't seem like she can see ghosts hmm. Yes she can see ghosts but she doesn’t want to tell to other people about that. "But you can see ghost duh!” I said with full of sarcasm. "Yep. If it's a real ghost, and are you scared in ghosts? Opps.. you’re a ghoster remember?" And my crazy friend laughed as if she wasn't a ghoster too. "Wow am I the only ghoster here? You too" I muttered to her. "Hmm Aeshe whats the feeling of being ghosted?” she asked me out of nowhere. "Did you see the guys who cry when we are leaving them? And to see a guy crying with just a week of flirting with them it would have been a lot of pain that it caused them to cry like that." I said to her.

“Don—you’re Ledger. Follow money from Saudi contractors to shell foundations to the idiot nephew who just bought a five-million-dollar townhouse for ‘study abroad.’ I want the human hand at the end of every wire.” Don’s smile was paper-thin. “My favourite game.” “Will—you’re Hands. Talk to ambos, ED triage nurses, morgue techs, not the press office. You’re looking for sudden spikes—panic attacks with tachycardia, sensory overload events, deaths coded as undetermined. The pill’s on the street; the street always talks before the reports do.” Will rose. “I’ll pack gum.” “Stacey,” Jack said, “you’re Ghost. You go under.”

What is written inside it? She did not sleep. She sat at her small desk with her laptop open and the cursor blinking in an empty search bar and thought about where you even begin when what you are looking for has no name and no shape and the only person who knows anything about it is a girl who tried to kill you four hours ago. She typed: dark journal occult. Deleted it. Typed: ancient journals with hidden locations. Deleted that too. She pushed back from the desk and pressed her palms flat on her knees and stared at the ceiling.

He discovered that before Shirley disappeared, his digital footprint had vanished completely. Not deleted— but completely erased. This in itself was highly unusual. No bank transaction records. No medical records. No telecommunications signal. No travel records. Someone had professionally and precisely erased her traces. Seamus immediately recalled that morning. The endless message notifications. Her indifferent and calm expression. The way she looked at him— As if she had already decided to leave. His chest tightened. This time, he dialed a number— A name that had never appeared on any documents. Within the Mafia, this person was known as "The Ghost."

*]:pointer-events-auto scroll-mt-[calc(var(--header-height)+min(200px,max(70px,20svh)))]" dir="auto" data-turn-id="88630483-7eb5-4271-b05b-c60c7df0102d" data-testid="conversation-turn-186" data-scroll-anchor="true" data-turn="assistant"> The silence after the Ghost’s disappearance felt heavier than the gunfire. Like the air itself was holding its breath.