Ghost Wife Comic Novels & Stories

"Wait. I need to know. Why did, uhm, whatever, carelessly pick me?" "Go back." The woman wasn't paying her any attention. She kept on plucking cowries and attaching them to her head. "What is he? Oh, don't answer that one. He's a ghost. I know that. Why is he in that state? No, no, why can I see him? Why can l feel his touch, ghosts can't do that, can they? What does he need me for?" The old woman stopped her scaly hands from further movements and stared directly at Geneva through her foggy eyes that obviously saw clearly.

We exchanged glances for a second, but I was quick to avert my gaze and I didn't even know why. They've got tattoos on their faces and arms down to their shoulders. It was in the middle of the road, the sides surrounded by a lake. The one with a bird tattoo stepped forward, his smirk wider than the rest. “Look who we have here. It's Ghost” he laughed. “The soulless dead man who is here to haunt us today. Oh, I'm getting scared” another said. They laughed, and I let them hold their peace before they ended up in misery.

“That’s it, princess. Take my cock like a good little ghost hunter. You’re so fucking wet for us.” Elias took her from behind next, holding her suspended in mid-air while he railed her. Victor and Lucian took turns using her mouth and playing with her clit and nipples. Harper was a moaning, drooling, overwhelmed mess. “You three are going to kill me,” she gasped during a brief moment when her mouth was free. “Death by ghost gangbang. That’s a new one for the obituary.” Elias laughed and thrust deeper. “We’ve been dead for over a hundred years, darling. We have a lot of pent-up energy. And you’re the first living woman brave enough to spend the night.”

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.

He retired about five years ago, letting his sons manage his company. “What does he want with Benny?” “That’s why Rain paid Amanda a visit.” Ghost shrugged; his tone was calm. “We have to do this the old way. This guy was squeaky clean. He paid his taxes to the last dime, not even a parking ticket.” “Squeaky clean,” I huffed, sliding my phone back into my jeans pocket. “Too fucking clean.” I pursed my lips. “What about the wife? How did she die?” Ghost checked his phone. “Boat accident fifteen years ago.”

As I was rummaging through the trash for leftovers, my wife, who had died three years ago, suddenly showed up. She stepped out of the Voyce and looked down at me from above. “Honey, you really did pass my test.” I was holding some moldy stale bread. I stared at her in bewilderment. It turned out that three years ago, at a class reunion, the school heartthrob she had once dated had suggested it. “I wanted to see if your love is real.”

“We know because the whisperer whispered to those intended for the whisper. We may catch a whiff of it, however, there is nothing to tell. It’s just wind.” Hue became curious about its claim. “How sure are you the wind travelled alone? Although only a whiff, it is important.” The tiny creature trembled in fear. “Good master, what I want to say is, someone is talking to her and you should be extra careful about that.” Hue went silent, pondering deeply about its words. He noticed his wife had been distracted since her last conversation with Gomi. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He turned around, tossed the tiny creature to the sofa and marched back into the kitchen.

His mind had blocked the aches and the pain which he got from the ferocious battle with the phantom, and at that moment, he felt them all return to his body. It wasn't imagination, after all, his mate was truly gone. Even in her death, the thoughts of her were his natural anesthesia which kept him going even in the pain.

He stood straight with a serious face as he began his explanation. "Ghosts are the souls of dead humans who... well, aren't ready to rest in peace. They don't have powers. All they can do is move from one place to another without being seen. Well, not by everyone though." "But... if you're a demon, why then are you in this form?" She couldn't help but ask.

The waft of his musky cologne hits me when we enter, and I lose it all over again. “He’s alive. Ghost took him, though I don’t know where. I haven’t felt his connection sever though I feel his pain. I think Ghost is one of the best people to help him, he was a medic in the human army when he was young,” she says, patting the bed for me to sit. “I didn’t know that,” I say, as I wrap my arms around her.