Romans & histoires Ghost Writer

Yucky. We finally asked the right question and he told us Mabel was alive. I killed someone a year ago but it wasn't her. She glamoured a human then ghosted her. Ghosting is illegal and punishable by death. Ghosting as it's called here is against the law for the simple fact it takes a life to be able to ghost then it takes another life when the ghoster reverts back to their own body. It is basically sucking the life out of one person so that their soul inhabits your body and keeps it alive while you transfer your soul into the vessel you've chosen to possess. It alters the vessel's appearance and changes their voice to give the illusion that it's you. If the vessel is killed or found out the

Tears rolls down his mom’s face while Evelyn spirit walks into the office smiling and she flashes back to how her spirit comes out of Marylyn’s body and keeps following her mom, she was feeling pitied for her at the party that she doesn’t know she was dead only for her to see her buying chemical at the chemical shop and injecting it to her drink and gives it to a waiter to bring it to Marylyn who was sited finding everything strange. She was shocked to see her mother inject the drink and wanted to give Marylyn because she thought she was the one and she when the waiter was about bringing it she entered into the waiter to control her at that moment and she changes the drink and she serves her

He stood up and walked to where he used to out his books, he took a small but old looking book and came back to where he was sitting, next to me. "I read it in this book , there is a certain theory which say that people might have ghost clones, these clones looks and dresses exactly like the original you and they can do anything you can do. Sometimes if you are lucky you can have a good clone but if you are unlucky you are likely to have a bad and evil clone , which means you are unlucky because yours is evil" he explained. His explanation shocked me , i have never heard such things and I've never believed in ghost theories.

Noticing the change in Hue’s expression, the tiny creature said, “Yes, someone was talking to her.” “Who was it?” Hue got uncomfortable. “The wind!” it screamed. “The wind?” Hue croaked in disbelief. “Yes, the wind whispered to her!” “What did you hear?” asked Hue, changing the topic. “Nothing!” Hue’s brows knitted. “Since you heard nothing, then why did you claim to hear someone whispering to her?” “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.”

“Hurry, Father. You must help Ian!” Adam steeled his nerves, took a deep breath, and forced his legs to take him across the hot, charred ground as fast as he could. He had to weave around a few spirits who were so opaque and dense that they could have easily passed as real people. He debated whether they were even aware of him as they moved aimlessly about in a zombie like manner.

"There are voices of people that linger when their lives are unjustly taken from this earth," Crystal said. "Voices of blood, and people who can't get justice for themselves. These voices belong to the souls of the dead, and the innocent. They can haunt you, torment you, and even try to kill you if they are strong enough. They are like air. They can't be seen. They can't be touched. They can be felt, but mostly through one's hearing. They glide in the air. The strong wind can stop them, and so can fire. Nature doesn't necessarily stop them, but anything too loud for you to hear them can temporarily stop them. And that is why they are called whispers.

Amara Cross sacrificed everything for her Alpha husband—taking a silver bullet that permanently weakened her wolf, enduring a pregnancy that nearly killed her, and shrinking herself for five years hoping to earn his love. Instead, she found him with his mistress and watched her five-year-old son call another woman "mommy." Broken and discarded, she walked away from the pack that never valued her. Three years later, Amara returns as a powerful tech mogul worth millions—stunning, confident, and untouchable. Everything her ex-husband said she'd never be. But her carefully constructed walls face two threats: Damien, who suddenly wants her back now that she's successful, and Lucian Volkov—a r

I sighed and prepared to microwave a box of macaroni and cheese. But when I turned around, I spotted a note pressed under something on the table. It was in Nathaniel’s familiar handwriting, though this time, his note held a hint of cold anger. [Wasteful.] I was stunned for a moment before I burst out laughing. This ghost was not just a good cook, but he was also thrifty and responsible. I liked that. I immediately picked up a pen and wrote back. [My bad, Nat. It’s just a joke. Let’s just stick to homemade food from now on. I won’t bring up that extravagant nonsense again, okay?]

He would’ve killed the man right there if he wasn’t trying to let me take the lead. “What do you know about me?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Well, you’re the daughter of the American mafia leader, and you’re rich. Getting this title without even deserving it.” My lips twitched—just slightly. “Well, you know absolutely nothing about me,” I said. He scoffed. “Well, I’m not scared of you.” Whispers rippled through the room. People were tense. Nervous. Because they knew something the man clearly didn’t. Only my father and a handful of his most trusted men knew I was The Ghost—the anonymous assassin who had killed more leaders, traitors, and criminals than any man in this room. A myth to many. A

I poured myself another glass of whiskey, sinking into one of the leather chairs , my body heavy but my mind racing and I was secretly happy at the latest discovery. The others spread out around the room, checking the windows, the doors, every entrance and exit. Standard procedure. Making sure everything was fine and safe. I gulped down the whiskey, the burn doing little to settle my insides and then I poured myself another round. Fifteen minutes later, Ghost arrived, it seemed as if he had flown down here instead of taking the normal taxi ride. I wasn't quite surprised, he was a hardworking fellow and his eyes had a different colour whenever money was mentioned.