Ghost's Son Novels & Stories

“Please…my son…if you loved me, don’t stay with her. Come home.” The chamber rumbled as another voice boomed like thunder. “He was never yours.” From the opposite side, another figure stepped through the darkness. A tall man emerged, his shoulders broad and eyes blazing with intensity. His commanding voice cut through the air like steel. Camela flinched back. “Who is…” she whispered. The ghost's smile widened at this revelation. “His father.” The man focused solely on Vincent, ignoring the woman sobbing by the coffin, his tone was harsh and unwavering:

He muttered and smiled a sad one before walking out of the room; then, I went close to my body to look at it intently. "I felt his touch. I felt my father's hand holding mine!" I let out when I noticed the four ghosts who just passed through the wall on my right. They must have seen my father walking into my room. One of my new ghost friends is Ericka, who got here three weeks ago because of a motorbike accident, and Lucinda, a middle-aged woman who got a heart attack a month ago. "Really?" Clinton asked in surprise and examined my physical body closely, and Dylan tried to touch my left barefoot.

Ghost doesn't exist and evil spirits obviously doesn't exist either. ******

He's David Quill, Rick's father and the company's former deputy CEO. My ears buzzed. In that instant, every clue snapped into place. Ivy hadn't died in an accident. She'd been murdered. She remained in the apartment because she was burdened by a massive injustice and had unfinished business tying her down. And Rick targeting me at every turn wasn't just out of jealousy. It also was out of guil

Grayson opened his eyes. The fog had thinned. He no longer stood among graves. Instead, he found himself beside a narrow stream cutting through black stone. The water looked strangely clear. Too clear. He knelt. His reflection stared back. Then it smiled. Grayson immediately stepped away. His own face continued smiling inside the water. "You've always chased ghosts." The voice belonged to him. Yet it wasn't. "You failed your mother." The reflection's silver eyes darkened. "You failed Savannah." "You failed Noah."

My father's temper flared even more. "Are they trying to pull something like getting pregnant before marriage and fighting Dylan for the family's assets? I'm going back to the hospital to beat him senseless!" Right then, my mother's phone rang. She answered impatiently. "Yes?" A voice came through from the other end. "Hello, is this Mr. Curtis Skinner's mother? I'm calling from the hospital morgue. Mr. Skinner's body has been here for two weeks. When will you be coming to take care of the arrangements?"

I stood quietly with Chloe's urn in my arms. I just wanted to stay close to her. Then my phone rang. I didn't even have to look. Years ago, I'd given Richard his own ringtone. I answered. For once, he sounded hesitant. Almost guilty. "Selena, Grace's son was in a car accident. He's lost a lot of blood and needs a transfusion immediately. His blood type is rare. Grace isn't a match, and the hospital's running low. Blood from another hospital might not get here in time."

I reached out and pressed the radio button on the steering wheel. My voice was cold, cutting through the static. "Mason Vale, do you see a ghost in your mirror?" I said coldly into the radio. Those words pierced straight through Mason's last line of composure. His car hesitated for an obvious instant on the straight. Now. I smashed the throttle down. The car tore through the air and pulled alongside him. Ahead was a chain of fast S-curves. Seeing that I was about to pass, a vicious look flashed through Mason's eyes.

he pointed to Isis. Isis didn't meet any of our gazes, and she didn't ask the ghost not one question, but I could see the pain in her eyes. She missed her mother, and I don't blame her. It was times like these I missed mine too. The ghost gestured for us to follow it upstairs. "My name is or was Carson." The ghost chuckled and Gidian growled in my head. I swallowed hard. Everyone else made an audible gasp. I hope I don't regret this.

I ask as he smooths his hand over my cheek. He searches my gaze for understanding and finds it with startling consequences. He takes a shallow breath, hanging his head for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “She’s here?” he whispers, his eyes wide and damp. I nod as energy rushes around us. Sydney, my father, and a legion of Ghosts arrive to clean up the mess and guide us home. To our daughter.