Ghost In Train Novels & Stories

she mumbles softly cleaning off the tears cascading down her cheeks. "I don't remember doing anything to you. If it's about our night together then I'm sorry. It was never meant to happen. I lost control and even apologized before you suddenly disappeared." The female whirls and stares intently at him. "You told your friends to rape and murder me." "Me? You're a ghost?" He asks at once shivering. "Yes, I'm a ghost. And I'm here to kill you cause you are the only one remaining." "But I didn't do such. Please believe me."

Everything about that bus screamed 'money'. 'What a sumptuous bus this is. I wonder how its interior is?' He couldn't help but admire the fine grand bus which was colored in red. After all, this was his old habit. To appreciate the beauty no matter if it belonged to a person or even a thing. Suddenly, the glass of one of the windows of the other bus slid open, and someone emerged out of it. "Aye! Yooo!! If it isn't the poor and miserable Ghost Busters team!? Eh!?" A guy with black hair tied in a ponytail with a patchy beard came into everyone's view as they heard his mocking voice.

The coincidence was just too much to be true. He took another look at the name on the ID card; with his imaginative eyes he slowly turned the name Heaven backwards and it appeared as Nevaeh. He has been sleeping with a ghost he concluded. There was no need to call a prophet to reveal it, even the blind will see and understand this. He needs to drive this thought away, make the pain and fear disappear, he needs to get drunk; so he ran away from the morgue and went to a beer parlour.

Eventually, we stopped at a station identified as Dartmoor. Salem alone came out of the train. Quickly, I ducked behind the train so that he wouldn’t see me when he darted into the air. I soon heard him kick off the platform, but I waited for the train to chug along a bit more before finally heading back into the skies myself. I glanced around—first at the sky, where Salem was now a tiny speck, then at the seemingly endless fields around me. As a mortal, I’d heard dreadful tales about this place: legends of bloodthirsty ghosts, headless horsemen, and vengeful pixies. They’d always felt impossible then, but if vampires and demons existed, who was I to say pixies didn’t?

“Hurry, Father. You must help Ian!” Adam steeled his nerves, took a deep breath, and forced his legs to take him across the hot, charred ground as fast as he could. He had to weave around a few spirits who were so opaque and dense that they could have easily passed as real people. He debated whether they were even aware of him as they moved aimlessly about in a zombie like manner.

I’ve seen him in the training grounds but he’s damn good at what he does so he never needed any one-to-one training. "Thanks, Ghost.” Gideon mutters, I don’t mean to laugh but that's exactly what happens. Ghost has to be one of the whitest men I’ve ever seen; his hair is practically white and his eyes have a sort of redness to them that can’t be natural so I can see why his momma called him Ghost but it's still a weird name. “It's a funnier name if you know that my momma has skin like sweet caramel sauce and my pops was blacker than the fuckin’ night sky.” Ghost smirks at me, he’s not offended by my laughing, which means he can take a joke.

"Madeline left. You stayed. She uses people as 'Data Nodes.' You use your power as a shield. If you were like her, we wouldn't be in a coal car in the middle of Pennsylvania. We’d be in a penthouse, and Leo would be a stranger to you." The Mechanical Ghost The train slowed as it began the long, grueling climb into the Allegheny Mountains. The air grew thinner and colder, the scent of pine needles fighting against the stench of diesel. Suddenly, the hard-wired radio in Ethan’s pocket hummed. It wasn't a voice. It was a frequency—a "Shadow-Pulse" that shouldn't have been able to reach them in the "Analog Dead Zone." Ethan pulled it out, his "piercing blue eyes" narrowing at the small LED scree

The way he had in the basement library, when he was trying to decide if he could trust me. "Ghost doesn't take money," he said. "He doesn't take favors. He takes pieces of people. Memories. Secrets. Things you can't get back." "Then we make sure we don't give him anything we can't afford to lose." --- The number on Miriam's card connected after two rings. A voice answered. Not male. Not female. Something in between. Processed through a modulator, scrambled beyond recognition. "You reached the line," the voice said. "State your business."

A fifth silhouette stood alone on the platform. Motionless. Watching the train. Its face was hidden beneath a wide-brimmed black hat. No one had seen it arrive. The voice returned. "Passengers: Five." The train doors slammed shut. The doors locked with a heavy metallic thud. No handle moved. No emergency release appeared. The train had made its decision. Adrian stared through the fogged window at the lone figure on the platform. It hadn't moved. It simply stood beneath the dim station lights, one gloved hand resting on the handle of an old leather suitcase.