Ghost Wife Romane & Geschichten

Philipp's wife also sued her, demanding she pay back every dollar Philipp had spent on her. As for what happened after that, I never found out. Time flew by. Soon, it was the anniversary of Chloe's death again. Like always, I went to the cemetery and talked to her for a while. Then a small bird flew over. Just like the one from years ago. I watched it land. Then I watched it fly away.

I sat there for a long time, trying to digest everything. It turned out my ghost housemate used to be a legend at the company that I now worked at. I shut my laptop, my feelings all tangled up. I asked, "So, you're only stuck here because of the car accident… Is that it?" After a long silence, Ivy's voice echoed faintly in my head. It was soft and almost drifting. "It wasn't an accident." My heart lurched. Before I could ask anything else, her voice faded away.

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

The tombstone glowed faintly in the dark soil. Vincent staggered back, his claws scraping against the stone. His name was etched into the granite—Vincent Fox. A growl tore from his throat. "No..." he gasped for breath. "No!" The ground beneath him rumbled as if something buried deep wanted to break free. From the shadows, the ghost’s whisper slid through the air: “She buried you with her. The grave doesn’t belong to her anymore; It belongs to you.”

" 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. "But you can see ghost duh!” I said with full of sarcasm. "Yep. If it's a real ghost, and are you scared in ghosts? Opps.. you’re a ghoster remember?" And my crazy friend laughed as if she wasn't a ghoster too. "Wow am I the only ghoster here? You too" I muttered to her. "Hmm Aeshe whats the feeling of being ghosted?” she asked me out of nowhere. "Did you see the guys who cry when we are leaving them? And to see a guy crying with just a week of flirting with them it would have been a lot of pain that it caused them to cry like that." I said to her.

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.

"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.

Evangeline’s father was strapped to a reinforced chair, a metal table stretched out before him. It was impossible to know if this was his real form without any alterations without us using silver on him. Our magic had yet to evolve to withstand our one weakness. With cold, calm efficiency Ghost began doling out questions. Everything from his past with Anastasia’s mother to his connection to the missing wolves and the small anti-human establishments popping up across the country. “What do you know about wolves with the ability to manipulate memory?” He would give out fragments of information meant to entice. “We know Anastasia’s mother had one fuck with her head. Not very nice of them.”

Something that chilled me to the bone. "It's not just Varyn’s ghost," he whispered. "It’s his essence. His very being lingers in the veil between life and death. He's not dead, Cassia. He's alive in a way that none of us understand." I stood frozen in place, my heart racing. The reality of his words hit me like a tidal wave. Varyn, my stepmother’s cruel, manipulative first husband—the man who had orchestrated my mother’s death and destroyed my family—was not only alive in spirit, but his presence had been feeding off our fears and insecurities.