Ghost Gallbladder Attack Novels & Stories

She kept on yelling my name and refused to leave. Just as I considered opening the door and letting her in, a different kind of pain struck again. My stomach growled loudly, then lurched uncomfortably. My stomach clenched, a sharp pain that doubled me over. I ignored it at first, thinking it was what I had experienced earlier, and stumbled towards the door. But the pain only got worse. A white-hot spike tore through my gut, leaving me weak and breathless.

The staff and guests of Helenfel all paused mid step as the strange howls echoed throughout the halls. "Guess the ghosts are back." Mumbled some of the guards. "Wha- Ghosts?" A guest asked surprised. "Oh nothing sir, please have no worries." Down in the basement both Garret and Taelin were engaged in a barrage of cursing. Garrett was completely thrown off by the face planting, the sudden shift in scenery, and being met by a screaming man. "By the gods man No matter the time frame somehow you will not be happy until I die of a heart attack and Cassandra won't be happy until I die from exhaustion!" Taelin cried out face down beating his fist on the desk.

Third fucking time. My heart is trying to punch a hole through my sternum. I press both hands to my chest, gasping, but the pain isn't just in my ribs. It’s lower. A sharp, stabbing cramp in my abdomen that feels like a ghost trying to claw its way back to life. I doubled over, squeezing my stomach. The phantom pain.

Thalia's POV My stomach twisted violently as I stared at it—at him. I couldn’t breathe. My body refused to move, locked in place by a horror so deep it threatened to consume me. goddess, help me. Garrett chuckled, clearly reveling in my disgust. "What’s wrong?" he drawled, tilting his head mockingly. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost." I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into fists. Oh, it’s worse than a ghost. It’s a damn nightmare.

I whisper, though my voice is unsteady. The second wave comes faster, harder. My heart gallops. My skin burns and freezes at the same time. The air feels too thin. This isn’t flu. This isn’t nerves. Caleb was right. The bile climbs up my throat and I rush to the bathroom and vomit. I limp back out the Lila and sink down beside her. I want to deny it, but I can’t. I’m coming down off something. My vision darkens. For a split second, I’m not on the rug. I’m back in the mansion.

I was going to beat this disease, sever the broken bond, and reclaim my entire life. The sun dipped below the city skyline, casting long, gray shadows across the living room floor. I pushed my chair back, intending to turn on the overhead lights. The backlash hit me without a single second of warning. It was not a slow, creeping decline. It was a violent, terrifying spike that drove me straight to my knees. A blinding wave of nausea surged up my throat, choking off my air supply. Agonizing stomach cramps doubled me over, the pain so severe and instantaneous it felt like a serrated blade twisting through my intestines.

Petty bastard. The pain slammed into me again, and bile threatened to rise up my throat. Trembling, I stumbled out of bed, ignoring Clarissa when she asked me where I was going. I rushed into the bathroom, heaving the instant I was in front of the toilet bowl. But again, I hadn't been eating. Nothing came up at first. Just dry, retching heaves that rattled my ribs and clawed at my insides like glass. My stomach spasmed again, lurching up bile and acid, a sharp pain tearing through my abdomen like it was eating itself alive. My head throbbed, pounding in time with my heartbeat, and the dizziness made the room tilt and sway.

She greeted cheerfully, "Hello!" "Calla, my mom is experiencing gastric pain. Could you please get her some antacids?" Peggy's voice came through from the other end. Hearing it was Peggy, Calla frowned. Just a moment ago, Jill was energetically criticizing Calla. How could she have a gastric attack so quickly? It seemed like they were finding other ways to mess with her. Calla thought for a moment and quickly responded, "At this hour, the pharmacies are already closed. How about I take you to the hospital instead?"

Why can't I breathe? Then—another sharp lurch of nausea. I bolt. Taking the stairs two at a time, I tear through the hallway and into the bathroom, nearly ripping the door off its hinges. I barely make it to the sink before my stomach revolts. A violent gag wracks through me, my body convulsing as I empty what little is left inside me into the porcelain basin. The acidic burn of bile coats my throat, my vision blurring as black spots dance at the edges.

Horror clouded Krystal's features. "I know you hate me, but please save my baby! Please, do it for the baby's sake, at least!" Her baby was her last ray of hope. Withdrawing her hand, Olivia comprehended the entirety of the situation. "If it's a miscarriage, your belly should be hurting, and you should be bleeding, not vomiting. Did you eat anything dirty or cold that's bad for your stomach?" "So, you mean my baby is fine?" Olivia answered seriously, "It is, for now. There are three types of acute gastroenteritis—bacterial, viral, and parasitic.