Ghost Stand By Him Novels & Stories

He agrees to meet us at the club later after he drops at the hospital. I reeve up the engine and make my way to the club. When I get there, Ghost is already waiting outside, a serious look on his face. " Is everything ok?" I ask and Ghost looks around before nodding. " Follow me." He instructs and I fall behind him, heading straight for the club. He opens the door, stepping in and I follow, only to pause when I see the sight before me. Two bodies are laid on the floor, blood smeared all over the floor.

It wasn’t like he was going to be stepping into any big role right away like me. His old man goes by “Ghost” and I hope he’ll be like him. Ghost is kind of Grouch’s right hand. While I’m the enforcer, the one with the most flies, Ghost is usually the one who gets the guys that come into the basement. You’ll never see him coming until he’s putting zip ties on your wrists and a bag over your head. He’s a huge dude but he’s light footed and sneaky. Professional stalker is the term I use.

“Ghost.” My body stiffens immediately.

The young man stood up to go to the comfort room. He coughed again and spat out the blood stain in the sink. "Damn. What's this?" He was surprised and gasped. He grabbed her neck and caressed her. "I'm okay, I've coughed like this once. I'm still alive." He said and smiled again even though he felt a sore throat.

She rubs her thighs together to calm the want coursing through her and luckily it helps and she sits beside him. "You ain't my kinda female, don't you get that?" He blurts stands up and walks out heading to his little bar a few steps away from him. She stands and trails behind him. "What do you mean by that?" "What you just heard." He picks out a bottle of whiskey, pops it, and starts drinking directly from the cap. How is it possible that he can drink in his ghost form? She thinks forgetting about his reply. "How is it possible that you can drink? Thought you said you're a ghost?"

While I walked to the garden to meet up with Grey. By the time I got to the garden, he was already there, sitting on a bench under the old tree. "Have you been here for a long time?" I asked. "Nope, I just got here too." He motioned for me to sit beside him. I sat, maintaining a good distance between us. "I haven’t introduced myself properly yet, didn’t I?" Oh, so he’s a formal kind of a guy. "Yeah." I answered coldly. "I’m Magnus Grey." He offered a handshake, but I only stared at his hand for so long. It looks like he’s patiently waiting for me to shake his hand.

It is already late so I started to leave, but Maam said, “I know Ms.Pari, that you will find some solution. My decision is not a wrong one.” “Thanks for believing in me, Maam. And don’t worry, we will all work hard to gain many other clients soon.” I said and then saw Mr.Stone standing behind her. He just nodded at me, and I too did the same. Now his face is again a blank one. Maybe the old Mr.Stone is back but may have a little change than before. I just witnessed the vulnerable Mr.Stone in the afternoon. I hope I will never get to see him in that state again…

"And never show up on my territory again. It won't end well Gorah." Now Gorah had planned this meeting as an ambush, an ambush that will scare Jason into freeing Timon and Zack but it didn't go as planned obviously. And that fact was the main reason he decided to back down. Without a word, he shifted. His black wolf surprisingly hefty considering his size in human form. Nodding at Roy, the both turned and sped off, disappearing from sight.

Then, without a second thought, he joined her in the water, slashing at his own wrist. As the blood mixed with the water, Grayson's vision blurred. In his final moments, he saw me—there, standing at the edge of the bathtub. His face lit up with a wild, desperate joy as he tried to stagger toward me, calling my name. "Honey," he cried, his voice full of longing. I stared at him, my eyes cold and distant, a disgust so sharp it cut through everything. "I'm not your honey," I said. "Not in this life, not in the next, not in any life to come. Not ever."

The sound reverberates through the Throat of Echoes like thunder, like prophecy, like the final word of a god: “The war has already been won.” Every version of me—Tyrant, Martyr, Warrior, Sage, even the flickering Ghost—falls to their knees. The compulsion is absolute, inevitable, written into the very structure of reality. We are moths before a sun that wears our own face. Only Ghost-me remains standing, and she's smiling. "Finally," she whispers, her form growing more solid even as the others fade. "I was wondering when you'd show up."