Ghost Dying Novels & Stories

"Is this kid clueless?!" The old man's tone was raised, and he was afraid of others hearing: "Little girl, this is serious. He didn't register at Ghost Escort, he will be fined if caught!" Some departed spirits, usually find it hard to accept that they have already died. For the past seven days, I really tried everything to get back into my own body. Some people, seeing that they can't go back, just crash into others, hoping to see if they can start over.

Skylar shivered, thinking back to how the voices echoed forcefully in her head. "Those are lost souls" She answered but continued when Skylar raised an eyebrow. "Ghost has no purpose but to haunt while lost souls are struck between the dead and the living, their bodies are either dead or alive while their spirit goes around, searching for their bodies, they feel tormented till they do so" She explained, looking around. "So, I still do not wish to encounter anything dead, I suggest we start moving if we do not want to be among them" "We are to walk to the deepest part of the forest, call for her and she will come to us" Skylar nodded and started moving, with Shailyn holding onto her arm like

Pale eyes, unreadable, but his gaze landed on Rhett like a hammer. “Leave him,” Ghost said to Grim, his voice gravel-deep. “This isn’t your lesson to teach.” Grim studied them both for a long beat, then gave a sharp nod and left, the door shutting behind him. Ghost stepped in, lighting a cigarette, the smoke curling in the dim light. “You killed him,” Ghost said simply. Not a question. A fact. Rhett didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Ghost exhaled smoke, his gaze unwavering. “I told you — once you take a life, it leaves a mark. You thought you could hide it from her, but you can’t. The broken ones? They see it clearer than anyone.”

I leave it in her pocket, and I leave it under my conscience, and I understand, as I sit alone in the archive room with the smell of her soap still in the air, that in this house a gift and a test have always been the same word. I understand something else, too. The version of myself that swore the oath at Lorenzo's grave is still standing behind my shoulder, and he is watching me, and he is waiting to see what I will become. But tonight, for the first time since I came back from Buenos Aires, I am not sure which of us is the ghost. Outside the high north window, the olive groves are black. The road is still gone. Somewhere in the dark, Serafina Bellini is unfolding a map of all the doors in

The tombstone glowed faintly in the dark soil. Vincent staggered back, his claws scraping against the stone. His name was etched into the granite—Vincent Fox. A growl tore from his throat. "No..." he gasped for breath. "No!" The ground beneath him rumbled as if something buried deep wanted to break free. From the shadows, the ghost’s whisper slid through the air: “She buried you with her. The grave doesn’t belong to her anymore; It belongs to you.”

" Two guards in black immediately moved in, ignoring Nellie's struggle as they dragged her toward the exit. Around them, guests lifted their phones, snapping pictures and laughing under their breath. Voices overlapped, mocking how pathetic the Scott siblings were, laughing that people like them might as well be dead. What they didn't know was that I was already dead. And Nellie was suffering from the same illness I had. She didn't have much time left either.

I didn’t imagine the voice. It was as clear as day, as loud as if she were standing right next to me. And even though my mind is doubting it, my heart knows for a fact that it was her. Except she’s dead. …Right? Or is she “dead” in the same way Headmaster Stroud suspects my father is dead? Meaning, alive somewhere. “Come on,” Alec whispers. He leads the way out of the bush, and we peek around the pool house’s corner. The coast is clear.

"What plans?" "Wouldn't you like to know." He coughed again. Harder. "But that's the beautiful thing. You'll never know. Not until it's too late. Not until everything burns. And you'll think you're safe. Think you've won. But you haven't. You've just started playing my game. And I always win. Even in death. Especially in death." His eyes closed. Body going slack. "He's unconscious," Ghost said. Checking vitals. "Pulse is weak. Breathing shallow. He's critical. We need to move now or he's dead."

"I know about the Black Site. And I know you were the one who told Lorenzo to trigger the Blood Clause. You didn't save me from the fire, Dante. You were the match." I paused, leaning my head against the cold cell wall. "You told me ghosts aren't real. Well, you were right. Because the girl who trusted you is dead. You killed her in that quarry. Now, all that’s left is The Ghost. And a ghost doesn't stay in a cage." I slammed the laptop shut, killing the signal. Less than thirty seconds later, I heard the heavy thud of boots in the hallway. The electronic lock hissed, and the door swung open so hard it hit the wall.

Then she walked up to me, viciously grinding her foot into my wound, using my blood as ink to press down her handprint. After finishing all this, she revealed a cruel smile. "Let him go," she ordered the security guards before saying to me, "John, you know? Your look of despair was just like your mother's before she died. On the day I went to court to declare you dead, I deliberately delivered the good news to your mother. Who would have thought that she'd be so frail? She passed away due to a heart attack." Nora did not have an ounce of pity on her face, only provocation.