Ghostface X Michael Myers Novels & Stories

The sound was incredibly weak, entirely raspy, and it cracked noticeably on the second word before dissolving into a harsh, rattling coughing fit that echoed loudly against the high ceilings of the mansion. I froze completely and turned my head slowly to look back toward the custom leather sofa. The smaller guy had stood up immediately in a total panic, hovering nervously over Michael and placing a tentative hand against his broad shoulder. The stranger turned his face toward me, and the sudden realization hit me with the force of a physical blow to the stomach. The young man had soft, curly dark hair and the exact same sharp, dark eyes that Michael used to intimidate people on the hockey ri

Celeste said and Xayne stopped punching the bag. "Do I have your attention now?". "Are you serious, Celeste?". "I am, he had a cap covering his face and a hood over it, Geez his lips were captivating, I can't believe a ghost picked interest in me". Celeste said. "Did you say hood? Black hood, he's pretty tall". "Um how did you know?". "Damn! I'm not crazy after all, it's real, he's real ". Xayne whispered. .

she mumbles softly cleaning off the tears cascading down her cheeks. "I don't remember doing anything to you. If it's about our night together then I'm sorry. It was never meant to happen. I lost control and even apologized before you suddenly disappeared." The female whirls and stares intently at him. "You told your friends to rape and murder me." "Me? You're a ghost?" He asks at once shivering. "Yes, I'm a ghost. And I'm here to kill you cause you are the only one remaining." "But I didn't do such. Please believe me."

“You’re calling the cops?” “No, I’m calling an ambulance. You said there are children. They need medical attention, we can report the accident later. Write down your details, please.” He handed me a black notebook. The front is embossed with gold lettering. Greyson Elliot. Slack-jawed, I glanced at the notebook, then cast my gaze over the God before me. It can’t be? It’s not possible. He has Greyson’s eyes but nothing else. Greyson Elliot is a scrawny, acne-ridden geek and dirt poor. And I haven’t laid eyes on him in a decade.

He said while moving towards me , i started moving backwards because i didn't want him to get too close to me. "What do you want from me ?" I asked. "Wow nice question, i just want to replace you" he said and then he disappeared, i looked around but i didn't see him, i remembered that Mr Franklin said he was a ghost. "But why me?" I asked, although he was not visible but i knew he was around. "Because i am you" he said and appeared in my back. "I swear to God i will shut you off" i said in anger. "Are you crazy , you can't kill a ghost boy!" He yelled and laughed.

But instead, I was greeted by a slight nod of acknowledgement, as well as a wry grin. “It’s nice to see you hale and hearty, Layla,” he muttered. I blinked. “T–Thank you,” I responded after a moment, and Michael’s smile widened. His lips parted as he prepared to say something else, but then the sound of a low groan coming through the open doors of the minivan stopped him cold, and as one we all turned to Xavier, who winced as he came awake before sitting up and blinking blearily at all of us.

“I am here to take your life.” James’s eyes widened. Every cell in his body went into shock as the cold eyes of the killer met his. “Who are you?” “You don’t need to know. A dead person like you.” “Who the heck are you?” “They call me Ghost,” the figure smiled. “And you’re about to find out why.” “Stop!” James ran, his mother’s face flashing through his mind – he couldn’t leave her to face another loss. “Running only makes it worse,” Ghost called out, footsteps methodically searching the room. “Accept your fate, and I’ll make it quick.”

Before he could react, his phone rang urgently. "Hello?" A cold voice answered, "Mr. Hart, we received a report. We found a woman's corpse at one of your rental properties."

（William’view） After leaving Chicago, I went back to the only life I truly knew. The life of a mercenary. Five years of comfort hadn't dulled my instincts. It was like a blade that had been kept in its sheath—once drawn, it was sharper than ever. I wasn't William Windemere anymore. I was 'Ghost' Noah, the king of mercenaries who called the shots in the black market. I reveled in it. The adrenaline of calculating trajectories in a firefight, the steady rhythm of my own heartbeat on a stealth op. This was the real me. A man who lived on the edge of a knife.

" 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.