Ghost Of Halloween Novels & Stories

Chloe’s scream tore through the penthouse like glass shattering. Her throat ached with it, her chest tight, her heart hammering so violently she thought she might faint. She scrambled back against the headboard, breath coming in frantic gasps. “No… no, no, no…” And then the figure grinned. “Happy Halloween!” Chloe’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck?!” Zoe threw her hands up dramatically, wobbling a little as the fake ghost makeup cracked along her cheeks. “Did I get you? Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face…”

“Who we are does not matter, what matters is that the Wolves will die tonight!” Zephyr huffed, produced out his sword, and quickly sprinted towards him. “Ha! Do you not know where you are? I am Ghost! You will not be spared tonight!” he replied. Seeing Zephyr rush over, Ghost steadied himself. “Wolf’s Howl!” Ghost howled, with that the attack started. Even though he looked barbaric and unruly, he was very careful. Seeing how many of his men had been slaughtered, even if he did not know who Zephyr was, he knew he was formidable.

“This is between you and me. So, let’s settle it, Denis.” Ghost’s eyes narrowed and his face warped into a twisted mask of anger and indignation. “Denis died a long time ago. My name is Ghost.” He walked forward and put his gun right against Will’s forehead. The girls yelped in fear at the sudden movement. Alex and Spencer were rigid as terror gripped them as well. “And I am here to haunt you.” It happened in slow motion. Ghost’s arm moved from Will towards Emma his finger tightening even more around the trigger.

'The obliviousness of the night is as atrocious as the hour. “So, what do you intend to tell me? That I am a prawn for your non-executed affairs into this human forsaken island.” “I'd like to eat some of those. It's Halloween, lusting after sea food might not be as beneficial as clawing my nails into your skin and drinking every drop of blood from you.” The Ghost humored. “I won't be surprised if you actually do that?” Matt confirmed.

The greenish-blue glow was a little off, but nearly every single window was wide open! The frost wraith, Chloe, floated to the front. Her little face was wrinkled with worry. The Hungry Dead clutched his precious empty bowl. His drool threatened to spill from the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were full of concern. The banshee had stopped crying, sniffing and staring upward. The Poltergeist was holding some random rusty pipe, looking ready to charge up and tear the building apart… There were also the Hanged Ghost, Shadow Sneak, Pipe Phantom…

" 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.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” A man stepped forward just enough for her to see him — mid-thirties, hard face, wearing a black and silver cut. With the vest– Devil’s Sons. “Name’s Ghost,” he said quietly, keeping his distance. “We’ve been watching this war from the outside. King is getting too bold, too powerful. It’s bad for business. We want him gone.” Hazel’s pulse hammered. “What do you want from me?” Ghost kept his hands visible. “Inside information. Reaper’s plans. Timing on the next hit. In return, we extract you and your friend Lena. Clean IDs. Full protection far away from here. No more tracker. No more Reaper.”

It resembled heat haze over a frozen pond. Roric raised his lance, but Kael gestured for him to wait. "Don't waste the charge." Out of the gray mist emerged a wolf. But it wasn't an ordinary wolf; it was a Ghost-Packer. It stood nearly seven feet tall, made of a translucent, oily smoke that shifted and swirled. Instead of eyes, it had two hollow cavities filled with flickering violet static-the remnants of a soul deleted by Liora's "Link," yet refusing to leave the physical plane.

Those eyes lifted and locked on mime and the glass instantly stopped moving. “The dead has no business with the living, Riven Cole,” he said, voice low enough that only I heard the tremor under it. “We don't tend to corpses here.” I crossed the distance, my boots leaving wet prints on sawdust, then I placed my hands on the counter and said in a low voice, “Then pour one for a ghost.” The room seemed to respond to my words like they heard me, a hush spreading round. I heard a chair scraping the ground and seconds later, someone in the back muttered “traitor”.