Ghostface Billy Loomis Novels & Stories

“See? I’m driving away. Not thinking about her tilting her head the way she does when she listens to someone. Not picturing her eyes lighting up at his jokes.” I kept driving, breathing a little deeper. “Maybe she actually likes him. I can’t blame her. I’m not easy. I’m the guy who drives expensive cars into lagoons and sits in silence in corridors. She deserves someone who can make her laugh for real.” My phone rang. I answered through the car. “Andres Beaumont speaking.” “Hey, kid, it’s Billy. You missed our check-in yesterday. How are you holding up?” Billy asked warmly. “Hey, Billy. Sorry about that. It’s been crazy. We closed the Creston deal, though. Big win for everyone,” I replied.

“Oi…” Billy thought he heard a sound behind him, but the sound of his heart shattering was loud enough to drown all external noise. “Hey, big man!” A sudden hand on his back and a warm smile greeted Billy, jolting him forward in surprise. He turned to find a stranger, relaxed and nonchalant. This stranger sported a black eyepatch over one eye, contrasting sharply with his long, flowing black hair. He had strands of beard protruding from his chin, and he was outfitted in a high-quality black robe.

The fourth member could ride with Goldman in the cruiser. When the ground crew surrounded the plane to prepare it for the passengers to get off, Goldman and Williamson drove their vehicles to it. Williamson backed up the wagon. He jumped out. Goldman got out of the cruiser. They stood side by side as they waited for the crew to get out. Two officers from the MPD walked off the plane first. Then, the elusive S.O.B himself, Ghost, came down the stairs. He had grown blond hair, but those eyes of his were still piercing blue. He wore an orange jumpsuit, he was cuffed, and his ankles were shackled. It was a damn good sight to see.

leo cut our visit short and pick me off the ground walking us out. On our way out we saw hailey holding her little daisy hand. Daisy was dressed in a tutu skirt with a onsie and some white tights , her hair was put in to a ponytail. She didn't look very happy when she noticed me looking at the outfit, hailey on the other hand was her usual self dressed to perfection in a bodycon dress with killer heals. "Ghost" hailey greet leo and nod to me. "Hailey" leo reply before carrying me away.

The ranging wind would gulp their shelters to trenches where it belongs and leave them stranded of a home of abode. Billy at least had a value in his wild world . He is more of old funny fellow with white hairs bleaching, a glass which he uses to see things afar, nose to sniff. When he does the sniffing one would practically look agitated at how old billy sniffs like a nosing creature nevertheless he was never a creep or knave.

His clothes are dirty and his body oozes with the overpowering stench of booze mixed with the odour of a body unwashed for a good number days. He glares at me with narrowed eyes, taking me in. I don’t move, patiently letting him take me in with a scrutinizing gaze. “Good. Yer not dead yet”, he grunts finally, his voice deep and gruff. I release my first genuine smile since waking up that day. “I’m okay Billy”, I say softly. He snorts at that, squinting at me, “I’m sure yer are”, he replies sarcastically, “that’s why yer come back dripping in blood. I was half expecting ta find ya dead as a doornail, body startin’ to rot”, he snaps.

Black American,7ft 1inch tall,bald headed with tattoos all over his two arms,his neck and his left cheek. Studs on his two earlobes and a nose ring. He looked like a criminal who just got out of jail and he looked frightening each time he frowns. They say,he was once a ring fighter.Ice cold. Real name,Shawn Gomez. To be honest with you,I like this guy. As his name depicts,he was very calm and quiet. You could underestimate this guy but girl! You would be shocked out of your skin. Not too tall but taller than storm. He is good with the machine guns and long range guns. A former assassin and now,he works for Jake.

He's beside me, his phone already at his ear, his hands shaking. "I just hit someone with my car–in front of Westside medical centre –she's bleeding–" His voice cracks. "Please hurry–she's not moving–my name is Damian King–please–" I try to speak. Nothing comes out. Everything's getting darker. "Stay with me," he begs. "Please stay with me–" The darkness takes me. The last thing I hear is his voice, desperate: "Please–you have to hurry–" Then nothing.

She ducked and dove behind the desk at the same moment Ethan launched himself at Liman all over again. *** Tuesday. Forgery Front, Chicago, Illinois. GRANT BRACED ONE HAND on the dash. He gripped the door handle with his other hand. No one spoke. The atmosphere in the SUV was tense. Ghost had hit on something not twenty minutes after he'd changed his focus. One of his contacts had mentioned a friend, someone who did forgeries, having an odd client. Someone new and suspicious. It was a long shot. Chances were they were about to go make an unwilling new friend very unhappy.

This man looked nothing like the unkempt, half-mad figure locked away in the estate’s back courtyard for decades. Billy stepped forward and looked toward the three graves. “Sir, madam, it’s Billy. I came to see you.” Then he turned to Timothy. “You’re not insane…” Timothy said, almost in a whisper. “I never was.” “You’ve been faking it all these years?” The shock was palpable. No one could believe that the “crazy” old man had simply been pretending for over sixty years. Why live like that—locked away, pretending to be mad? “If I hadn’t, would you have let me live?” Billy said, turning to face the reporters and crowd. “I’m Billy. Decades ago, I was a servant in the Yuncey Family. Later, I bec