Ghost Plot Novels & Stories

Those who had discovered the truth were swiftly silenced, their secrets dying with them. The rumors about The Ghost were the stuff of criminal legend. They said he could walk through walls, that he had spies in every major organization, that he could make people disappear without a trace. Some said he wasn't human at all, but a vengeful spirit who had returned from the dead to punish the wicked. Victor did nothing to discourage these tales—in fact, he cultivated them.

I began to chant as I felt the blood of Ares mixing with my own until I could feel his power coursing through my veins. I lift my hand and outstretched it until my long black fingernail was technically touching the barrier around the clearing. I watch as the tip of my nails began to bend until it melt. I smirked before retracting my hand. "Ester darling, I see you are not happy that I am visiting you today." I spoke and summoned one of my crows. This one name was Ghost, he had a liking for lost souls that lingered on earth.He could spot them quickly, something I have used him for occasionally when I want to suck some of the souls power. There is nothing more delicious than a wandering soul.

Just poured himself a coffee, black and bitter, and leaned against the counter like the weight of the building could hold him steady. Ghost appeared like he always did, silent and sudden, leaning in the doorway with a cigarette burning low. His pale eyes cut across the room, landing on Rhett, steady and unblinking. “You didn’t sleep,” Ghost said. Not a question. A fact. Rhett took a swallow of coffee that burned all the way down. “Didn’t need to.”

Blood covered the walls the night my best friend, Cody Colfax, was murdered. His body twisted and twitched before my eyes, like a fish out of water splashing around on a boardwalk without anyone to put him back. The possession of his body from the unknown source, the scientists call 'The Ghost,' has haunted the bystanders for weeks now. When we found him, his body was half-naked and covered in ashes. The hairs on his arms were fried by the electrical chords wrapped around his arms. The tattoos on his body were symbolic, otherworldly. The Ghost left them there to make their presence known.

I lied about my age and ended up in a secret online relationship with one of the biggest names in esports. He was nothing like his public persona. In public, he was cold and aloof. Online, though, he flirted with me nonstop. When he got worked up, he even said he'd be my good boy. Then my nineteenth birthday came and went, and my wolf still hadn't awakened. Most werewolves shifted for the first time at sixteen. Even late bloomers awakened by eighteen. I couldn’t let Adrian find out I was defective, with no wolf at all. So I broke up with him and blocked him everywhere. Months later, while staying with my best friend Chloe, I heard her older brother speak outside the bedroom. I had heard that

He looked around from the gate of the graveyard and caught sight of a figure moving in the shadows. “Chloe…” he started. Chloe turned around quickly at his voice. “What is the matter?” Syke shook his head in the negative. The figure had disappeared as soon as it had come. Or was he seeing things? He couldn’t tell for sure but he knew that whatever the case was, it was going to be a miracle if they got back to Calistè whole and hearty. “No one’s going to hurt you,” Chloe laughed. “Always remember, Ghosts don’t exist.”

Mark laid on the ground groaning and things about his past kept popping into his head. “Ro..se..” He stuttered with his last strength. He was going to die a weak man and that wasn’t fair. After few minutes of reminiscing what was happening and what had happened to him and his family, he saw an image walking closer to where he laid with pains all over his body. It was a man in his late thirties just as he was but he just couldn’t get to see who it was. The man’s face was blur. And no matter how hard he tried to strain his eye sight to see who it was he just couldn’t get a perfect gaze at him.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here, Pendleton," the menacing ghost woman glared her pale white eyes at the old man. The angry spirit doesn't look white as a ghost; her skin is dark, and her eyes are pale. You can't see pupils. She spread her menacing ghost powers to frighten the old lord. Pendleton took a step back. His face was pale as the white dress of this angry ghost. If I'm right, this angry spirit is none other than Count Everlot's daughter and this man's wife, Viola.

But your mother's about to die—I know you'll show up. Her words jolted me back to reality. I pressed a hand to my chest, where my heart ached with a dull, numbing pain. How I wished I could tell her myself. That I've been here all along. It's just that... I've been dead for four years.

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.