Romans & histoires Ghost Writer

He wasn't just pointing it out, he was fixing it. New lines of elegant, streamlined code appeared, rewriting my messy patch into something sleek and perfect. > Ghost_User: Fixed. You're welcome. > S_Lancaster: Why help me? You want Daniel to fail. > Ghost_User: I want Daniel to fail. I want YOU to be brilliant. The cursor paused for a moment. > Ghost_User: I have to go. I have a company to run. Try not to think about me too much, Sophia. I know how distracted you get when you're wet.

Wren Sinclair gave the Ashworth Pack five years of loyalty, love, and quiet endurance — and it still wasn't enough. The moment she finally becomes pregnant, her husband returns from war with another woman carrying his child, and the pack she sacrificed everything for turns on her without hesitation. Betrayed, humiliated, and abandoned at her lowest moment, she disappears into the night carrying a secret no one will ever get the chance to take from her. Six years later, she isn't Wren anymore. She's Vera Ashford — cold, brilliant, and untouchable, the CEO of an empire that spans both human and werewolf worlds. She has buried her old life so deep that even her own reflection barely remembers

Tasha was devastated about the reality of her being a ghost. She thought she was dead, she had dreams. Even if she acted like a slut whose only interests were parties and getting boys hard for fun. She wanted to be a doctor, just to save lives. But everything was never gonna happen for her, and she thought everything had ended for her.

Sashi said while continuing from writing. "Wraith? Ah, you called me once like that before. What is that anyway?" Clark ask while giving all of his attention to Sashi. "A wraith, an evil ghost. Those who died with wrong doings in life. Like that." Sashi explained. "Ahhh." They stayed like that for a while because Sashi need to finish taking some notes. Clark just observing her the whole time. "Stop staring, I can't concentrate here." Sashi said without looking at Clark.

“I don’t get it. You said spirits and ghosts. Isn’t a spirit a ghost?” She shook her head. “A spirit is free flowing and intelligent. It knows no boundaries and can come and go at will. A ghost is basically trapped energy. Ghost hunters often refer to them as residual energy. Ghosts often don’t realize that they died. If they do, they aren’t able to understand where to go and what to do, so they cling to the familiar.” “Can I ask you something without you getting upset with me?” I stammered, hesitantly.

Not only am I the first ever vampire to exist, but also the first vampire that had the power of three powerful supernatural forces combined - a vampire, a witch, and a werewolf. It was the early 1700s when a witch, my mother, and a werewolf, my father, fell in love with each other. It was beautiful, and the perfect love - one that is one with nature and a beast that resides and takes care of nature and the other animals living in it. They were living peacefully with mortals and the children they were to bear. But at that time, a virus broke among mortals. Nurses and doctors reported that dead bodies in the morgue went missing. Nikleux, my mom and the most powerful witch ever, casted a conosc

Jenna cleared her throat, "I'm an author, well quite famous among limited circles," Jenna replied gracefully as if she was really famous. Adam frowned, "What kind of author? Limited circle? Do you write books on political economy or something?" Jenna chuckled, "I'm an online platform novelist! Huh, I'm quite famous!" Adam suddenly seemed to have an idea. "So you can pretend to be a famous Ghostwriter in America or England or whatever! So my mother won't be able to find your name. Ghostwriter won't leave any traces,"

This guy should be the one named Nathan Garcia, a horror writer, and the current owner of the cursed book. A headless phantom in priest attire stood, or rather, floated next to the unconscious guy. But just like the hanged ghost, it immediately roared and ran off at the sight of Leyte. It even let out an exaggeratedly shrill scream. Leyte blinked, then lowered down his eyes to the guy. "So he fainted due to that headless ghost?" He frowned because he initially planned to talk with this ghostwriter, but the latter was already forced to sleep by that ghost. He could do nothing but stare at the ghostwriter helplessly.

No real medical records. No last name. No family. Just a boy who didn’t exist until he started posting on hacker boards at fifteen. Noah was a ghost, dressed in sarcasm and computer code, pretending to be normal. But ghosts don’t scream like that when you touch them. Don’t break and fall apart with such human fragility. I gripped the wheel tighter. Somebody did something to him. And I was going to find out who. And why. I wasn’t doing this out of pity. I wasn’t a savior. But if someone put that kind of fear in him—

I say, sitting next to my brother, and Wyatt nods, shrugging his shoulder. “I hope the guy didn’t stay alive to tell the tale,” Wyatt says, and I shake my head. “He is alive, barely,” I say, shrugging it off. Ghost was extremely proud and happy because of the bets. Everything was against me, and he bet on me, so he won so much money he couldn’t even count it properly. “Can we talk about the reason we are all here on a Sunday evening?” I let out, and Wyatt nods. “I’ve got intel for you,” Wyatt says, passing me a folder. I frown as I see a picture of a man I have never seen before in my life. “Recognise the guy?” he asks, and I shake my head.