Ghost's Son Novels & Stories

Everything was a mess! The man immediately turned his face at the little boy. His face darkened. "Tell me, Little Veen, how did I frighten her? I was merely showing her the memories of my real appearance but, I do not understand why she was so frightened and kept denying my existence even in her sleep." He said in dissatisfaction that reflected on his handsome face. The little boy called Veen coughed softly in a polite manner. "Your appearance now is similar to those of what humans called a ghost. You have not fully recovered your body yet, so you cannot do anything. Just let her be for now."

My half-eaten chicken salad sandwich dropped onto my plate as my eyes dilated, locking with Ghost’s gaze. “What are you going to do about my lawn?” My father interrupted our seduction. “We’ll go consult.” Ghost picked me up out of the chair and threw me over his shoulder. Swatting my ass as I cried out in surprise. My father chuckled at my distress, “Keep that up. I don’t want a spoiled daughter.” “Yes, sir.” Ghost stomped away, heading back upstairs. “Son, I’m beginning to like you a little better every day.” Ghost proved he was a loving and passionate mate the rest of the afternoon.

I whispered, “Who… who is that?” The man stepped forward into the red emergency light. Damien’s face turned white. Because the person standing behind Mason the one who disarmed him Was a ghost. A man we all thought was dead. A man who was supposed to be gone forever. Damien whispered, voice shaking: “Father…?”

“Dad, please! Let me out! I’m scared!” His voice through the door was ice. “You need to learn, boy. You can’t be a successful man like your father with that soft heart. You’ll ruin the family name. Stay there until you learn.” And indeed I learned. No attachments. No feelings. The Ghost was born that night. But Scott had cracked everything open. And now he wants to leave? Hell no! The lion is awake. I couldn’t sleep. The office was empty. I locked my door, sat back in my chair, and let the memories flood me. Scott’s body under me. His moans when I bred him deep. The way he begged “Sir, please” while I fucked him raw.

"You need to come home. Your father is dying." He should have said no, and ended the call, or thrown the phone across his pathetic studio apartment, and pretended he had never heard those words. Five years ago, Patriarch Michael Thorne had stood in the grand hall of the family estate and declared his eldest son dead to the Holy Order, dead to God, and dead to the bloodline that stretched back twelve generations of exorcists. Gabriel had been seventeen, broken, and desperate for understanding that never came.

The coincidence was just too much to be true. He took another look at the name on the ID card; with his imaginative eyes he slowly turned the name Heaven backwards and it appeared as Nevaeh. He has been sleeping with a ghost he concluded. There was no need to call a prophet to reveal it, even the blind will see and understand this. He needs to drive this thought away, make the pain and fear disappear, he needs to get drunk; so he ran away from the morgue and went to a beer parlour.

Their eighth year's old daughter heard the cry and rushed into the room to meet her father wailing like a child, which was strange and bewildering. Her eyes narrowed in suspiciousness before she asked, "What is wrong with mummy?" Seeing the daze on his daughter's face, "Baby… I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me…" he cried trying to explain what happened. Disappointed, confused and scared, she ran away from him. The father went after in a bit to caught her before she hurt herself. On the stairs, she missed a step and fell to her death. "My God!" Pastor Silas blunted out.

"The old men in the family really think it was an accident. Who would've guessed I paid off his mechanic to tamper with that damn engine?" I had it. I slipped my phone from my inner pocket, confirming the recording was still active. Even though family rules dictated that a recording couldn't be used for a summary execution, once Lorenzo was back on his feet, cleaning up these scumbags would be child's play. I was just about to turn and retreat when a bone-chilling wind swept across the back of my neck. An icy hand clamped around my throat. I spun around. It was the spirit of a burly man in a black suit, holding a spectral submachine gun. Half of his head was blown off, brains and dark red bl

"He's the son of—" “Exactly!” Even though I hadn't finished what to say, that's what Jerrkho immediately took out of his mouth, that young man was really Clark's son. "Arrogant, relying on the young man. Obviously a weak shit leader hahaha." I said then my hair was wiped, when I turned to my right I saw a ghost. Is that a ghost or a demon?! "Zachary?!" I said then I looked carefully in the direction of that person, he turned his back on me not far away. With so many people in front of me, I lost sight of him.

would work for him, or Phillip would, and she would know when he wanted his answer. “The Ghost” was the code name Vic’s father had insisted on when she first told him she wanted to help with the family business. At first, he was more than apprehensive about her involvement because, although their family had specialized in using brute force to extract information where others could not for generations, Phillip Bura Senior had others plans for his oldest and only daughter.