Ghost Mom Novels & Stories

he asked curiously when I was silent. Before opening the gate of the graveyard, I answered him, "My mom." I got inside and stood in front of the second grave, where it was engraved, 'Emily Corbin.' "I thought your mom was alive," he let out in disbelief. "Everyone thinks that my mom was alive, and I have a happy family because I don't want people to know how sad the happy-go-lucky girl Ember is in reality," I told him with a sad smile. "This is where my mom stays, in a graveyard."

He drummed his fingers on the table. “Ghost. No last name. Adopted by Christopher Blackwell as a child. No blood relatives listed. No history of lasting relationships.” Vladimir put special emphasis on that word before trailing off. “Greymount, you said you sensed something earlier?” “I have commitment issues.” Snatching the olive from my drink, Ghost placed it between his teeth. “My favorite food is pancakes and I last took a shit this morning. I’ve also been having this reoccurring dream lately—”

Although she didn't kill Haley with her own hands, Haley died because of her, and four years ago she often had nightmares. She always dreamed that Haley turned into a vengeful ghost coming to claim her life! "Do you want me to be a human or a ghost?" Haley confidently walks in, and leisurely sits on the sofa. She smiles coldly, her eyes filled with chilling intent. Her eyes are sharp, ruthlessly piercing into Emily. "You, you're not dead!" Emily shivers suddenly, "You're still alive! Haley, you're actually alive!" She didn't die from severe bleeding after giving birth!

Her fingers shook. She couldn’t stop staring at the photo from Greg’s mother’s room—the one of her mum, Mrs. Tricia, standing beside Greg’s father at Brentford twenty years ago. “You were smiling,” Helena whispered. “In front of that same school crest. What were you doing there?” Her mother’s voice came from the doorway—calm, but cold. “Some ghosts are better left buried, Helena.” Helena looked up, eyes sharp. “Then why do they keep haunting me?”

"Please, I beg you. Dr. Moore has already agreed. Just sign the paper, and we can immediately transfer the kidney from another hospital for your mom. As long as she survives, I'll step forward to explain! I'll make sure no one criticizes you!" Ethan also spoke up coldly. "Didn't you save that patient already? Now it's Mom's turn, right?" I was about to shake my head in refusal, but the office door suddenly burst open. A nurse rushed in, panicked. "Dr. Mitchell's mother just passed away!" The four of us immediately rushed to the ward. By the time we arrived, the ECG had gone flat. Mom was completely gone. Dad, drained of all his strength, collapsed to the floor in despair. Tears poured from h

Mom had devoted her entire life to me, and now she couldn't even leave behind a complete body, much less rest in peace. I busied myself with immigration paperwork while Hope stayed with Melody. The atmosphere was more tense than ever. We dreaded any mishap that might occur at the last moment. When Melody pointed out the window at an empty spot and smiled brightly, calling out, "Grandma," both Hope and I felt as if our frayed nerves were about to snap like an overstretched rubber band. Even I, more than once, thought I glimpsed a familiar, frail figure in the crowd. It was Mom's ghost. Did she hate me for sending her to her death? Or resent me for planning to leave her behind and flee abroad?

He stood straight with a serious face as he began his explanation. "Ghosts are the souls of dead humans who... well, aren't ready to rest in peace. They don't have powers. All they can do is move from one place to another without being seen. Well, not by everyone though." "But... if you're a demon, why then are you in this form?" She couldn't help but ask.

Mom wasn't alone. Gram cackled and wiggled her fingers at me, bouncing in her fuzzy socks while I begged all that was good and holy to open a hole in the ground and swallow me alive. ***

It was probably post traumatic stress disorder from everything she suffered in the hands of her mum, coupled with her father’s death, so she shrugged it off and said no. While Arlene was describing the girl, Derek was scribbling something in his notebook, and when she was done, he turned over what he had to her. It a drawing of what she had been describing, and when he asked her if the picture he painted was correct, she nodded in affirmation. “Well, I don’t think I have come across her in any of my books. I’ve helped a lot of people master and get rid of their spirit friends because I recognise them, but this one is beyond me,” he replied and Arlene’s face fell in disappointment.

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.