Ghost Story Novels & Stories

Her body would simply fail, and she would fall. But not today. Today wasn't the right day. The light was wrong. The angle was wrong. The wind was unpredictable. Ghost had learned patience the hard way by staying alive when he should have been dead. He watched her disappear into the building. Then he waited. Ghost ate protein bars and drank water from a bottle he'd prepared the night before. The apartment was empty except for him and his equipment. He'd rented it under a false name, paid in cash, told the landlord he was a photographer working on a project about the Manhattan skyline.

she pleaded. "He can't have you. You belong to me." The ghost raised the knife. Clarissa put her hands up to defend herself but the knife had already been thrust deep into the centre of her stomach. She heard herself scream. There was no pain, just numbness and disbelief. Crying loudly, she glanced down at her stomach to confirm the reality she feared. Blood poured thick and deep red from the wound down over her thighs to spiral down her calves. It merged with the clear water, muddying it as it flowed along the white shower tray and down the plug.

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.

*]:pointer-events-auto scroll-mt-[calc(var(--header-height)+min(200px,max(70px,20svh)))]" dir="auto" data-turn-id="88630483-7eb5-4271-b05b-c60c7df0102d" data-testid="conversation-turn-186" data-scroll-anchor="true" data-turn="assistant"> The silence after the Ghost’s disappearance felt heavier than the gunfire. Like the air itself was holding its breath.

"Yieeeeee yeah you don’t like him because he’s arrogant, he’s muscular, he has a pointed nose, he’s tall, and his lips looked so sweet. Yes Alaister you don't like him!" and with that she threw me a pillow Hahahaha. We talked about music and other kinds of stuff until Aunt Ana came with our food so we ate first. "Alaister do you believe in ghosts?" I asked Alaister, now that she was lying down in our bed. "Did you watch a horror movie last night? Then I would say that there are no ghosts and I do not believe in ghosts." Wow! It doesn't seem like she can see ghosts hmm. Yes she can see ghosts but she doesn’t want to tell to other people about that.

Clara's POV. Nine days had passed since I signed the contract and became Clara Cross on paper. Nine days. In just over a week, my life had turned completely upside down, and somewhere along the way, I realized refusing to break had become my only choice. The whole of America already knew the Ghost of Wall Street had a wife. Ironically, I found out the exact same way everyone else did. Through headlines and posts scattered across the internet. The Ghost of Wall Street Is Married. Who Is Clara Cross?

Everyone was doing something with their Ouija board but Autumn, well she had no idea on how to even use the thing so she kept copying everyone especially Jay, he seemed to know what he was doing but along the line she got the step wrong and cut herself by accident, her eyes grew thin as her hand kept moving and it drew the attention of everyone, on her Ouija board were symbols, the blood from her hand kept flowing down and staining the floor, no one knew how but it was a bad cut then they thought everything was okay until the ghost kept searching for something endlessly, he stopped when he noticed her drawings, "The symbol of the Ghoul, you summoned a ghoul, impossible." She felt dizzy and h

Lucas asked. “Because I dreamed about this. Her mother is doing to be in her bedroom with her father down the end of the hall. And there’s going to be an older boy about 10. He’s going to be in his room as well. All dead from vampires.” I whispered so Amora couldn’t hear me. So we walked through the house and the bodies were exactly where I said they were going to be. We checked the rest of the house, just in case I missed anything in the dream, but that was unlikely. And we went back out the front.

The possessive way he fucked me like he both hated and needed me. I forced a grin. “You’re crazy, man. You watch too many movies.” He stepped aside but whispered as I passed, “Run while you still can. He’ll ruin you.” Later that day, I overheard two employees gossiping near the cafeteria. “Did you hear about The Ghost? Some billionaire who shows up masked at underground parties. Pays good money, fucks like a demon, then vanishes. Nobody ever sees his face.” I laughed it off again. But deep inside of me, i was worried for myself.

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.