Ghost Reading Novels & Stories

The other two… Those were where the fun happened. I dropped into my chair, set the plate beside the keyboard, and cracked my knuckles. “All right, Ghost.” My fingers danced across the keys. “Where are you?” A dozen command windows sprang to life. Lines of code streamed down the screens faster than most people could read them. Numbers, IP addresses, encrypted tunnels, relay nodes… Beautiful. Most people looked at this and saw gibberish. I saw fingerprints. Ghost was good. Better than good. They managed to stay invisible while making half the underground think they knew where they was. That alone was impressive.

“I…?” My mouth dropped open to say something, but Luca put his hand on my back. Closing it, I just moved my attention back to the picture. That wasn’t there when I took them. Leaning back to I was standing up, I just studied it. “I didn’t see that when I was there.” “Did you notice these?” Heather moved to the next picture. Dad’s supposed ghost was gone, but there were two very distinct yellow… almost orangish eyes glowing above the entrance.

She put down the picture and ran to the sofa, her eyes sparkling with hope. “Mommy, you’re being lazy again! I’m going back to our old home to get the music box. Then, I can wake you up!” Seeing her determined to leave, I instinctively reached out for an umbrella, wanting to remind her that it was raining outside. Alas, my hand passed right through her body! In that instant, I suddenly remembered—I was dead. I could never protect her like before.

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.

As I touched the soul, My eyes gleamed and saw a weird black spirit. “It’s the black spirit that I saw recently. “ I mumbled. It touched the innocent spirits that were slowly forgetting their memories. The repenting spirits need to forget everything before they ascend to heavens but looking back to what happened. This evil thing triggered their memories just in one touch and it turned them into ghouls. The painful past that they were trying to forget, they were remembering it all again. “You evil sneaky thing!” I’m slowly panicking and the wrath living inside me is getting stronger.

He heard her laughter—a sound so out of place in the Siberian night that he stumbled back, clutching his head. "Sector lead, report!" a voice crackled through their shared comms. "My visor is... I’m seeing images. Someone is broadcasting personal files!" "It’s not files," I whispered into their network. "It’s them." I pushed the ghosts into their nervous systems through the neural links of their suits. The second soldier saw his mother, a woman who had been dead for ten years, standing in the middle of the snowy clearing. She wasn't a hologram; she was a digital haunting, a manifestation of the Heir’s power projected directly into his optic nerve.

When I turned back around, I noticed a new note pinned to the table. It was the same familiar handwriting, but the strokes seemed to carry a hint of chill this time. "Squanderer." I froze, then started laughing out loud. So this ghost couldn't just cook—she was also a thrifty, budget-conscious woman. I liked that. I immediately grabbed a pen and wrote back, "Sorry, Ivy. I was just joking. From now on, let's stick to regular dishes. I won't bring up such ridiculous things anymore." I made sure to apologize sincerely.

As the plane took off, I finally exhaled—like something heavy had snapped loose inside me. Phone on airplane mode. Eyes shut. Real sleep, at last. Sleep I'd been chasing for years. Soft music played in my ears, and for once, the past felt far away. "Hedley Hart, you're finally free," I whispered, voice shaking. For years, I'd lived in her orbit. Loved her so hard I disappeared. Even after ninety-nine rejections, I never thought about quitting.

A cold dread, sharper than the chill in the air, shot up from the soles of my feet. The patch of shadow in the corner began to writhe unnaturally, coalescing into a denser form. A human silhouette, darker than the darkness around it, slowly detached itself from the wall. It was tall and gaunt, its entire form wreathed in an impenetrable, smoky blackness. The air grew still and heavy, as if the room itself was holding its breath. Then, a voice, cold and utterly devoid of emotion, sounded not in my ears, but directly in my mind.

"Huh?" "They are not ghosts," Havu repeated, correcting Fyn. "They are souls, spirits, if you will. They are entirely different things. Ghosts are wandering things incapable of thought, Spirits, on the other hand, are those whose souls have survived when a being dies and no longer has a physical body in which to live. Ghosts stay in a place, they do not know why they died, they assume they are very much still alive and breathing. Spirits know that they have long run out of time. The reason they are wandering is that of a tie, often emotional, to a loved one. They probably have unfinished business or something they want to tell to those they have left behind."