Ghosting Novel Novels & Stories

’ 21st February 2020, 1:00 PM I dragged my chair to Jenny’s working station so I could have a small chat with her. ‘Hey I am finished with my 6th article,’ I said. ‘Hurry up, finish yours so we can talk.’ ‘I’m sorry Irina but it is not a good time.’ she said with her eyes fixed on the monitor. ‘I’m having a bad day actually.’ ‘What happened?’ I said. ‘Whenever you’re ready to tell me I’m just here.’ I was about to drag my chair back to my workstation when she spoke. ‘I was ghosted.’

We already tasted Marirose’s virgin pussy—' “I don’t let anyone step on me. You know that.” 'Still... I can’t get the new girl out of my head,' Ghost said, his voice husky in the back of my mind. “It’s not happening,” I growled. 'Your heart was racing when you had her pinned against the wall. Your cock was aching—desperate to slide into her tight, wet heat—' “That was you, Ghost. Not me,” I snapped. I stared out the windshield in silence, lost in thoughts of the past. 'You’re thinking again…'

A Midnight Stroll The next evening, Celess decided to take a walk to clear her head. She couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment she had felt when Steve had abruptly ended their conversation the night before. As she walked down the quiet street, she saw a figure in the distance. As she got closer, she realized that it was Steve. "Hello, Celess," he said, his voice soft and gentle. Celess felt a thrill run through her body at the sound of his voice. "Hi," she said, feeling suddenly nervous.

Gone as quickly as it came, leaving only a phantom ache and a deeper terror. The pack’s thrumming surged again, a collective growl resonating through the stone. Somewhere, a decision was being made. A line drawn. And she, Novah, the ghost with no past, sat at the epicentre, holding a cold bowl of broth, caught between the Alpha who claimed her and the crushing, invisible weight of the hundreds of wolves whose fate now inexplicably intertwined with her own forgotten tragedy. The silence after Ashton’s departure was deafening, filled only by the hungry, restless heartbeat of the pack. Waiting.

* <3 Well, anyway, here are the title and the blurb: \/ Title: Ghost In Red Note: ***This is not a horror story!*** Blurb: \/ --- Olivia Jillian "OJ" Hunters has it all— beauty, body, brain, money, friends, the perfect boyfriend that every girl wanted, and the haters, of course. But because of a broken heart from knowing that her boyfriend has been cheating on her with Sydney Roswell, her long-time enemy, OJ got into an accident that caused her to be in a coma.

" 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.

As he flipped through the yellowed old pages, he sat down on the neatly made bed and began to read, curiosity etched on his features. Don Carianno’s writing was in beautiful cursive. It looked like he took his time to scribble, dotting all his i's and crossing his t's. He flipped through the first pages, there was an entry about a new shipment, but it didn’t make sense. He could not decipher the code words. He flipped through a few more pages, and that was when he saw an entry about him. It read: "Ghost, that’s what we’re going to name him. He’s, after all, a Ghost."

*]:pointer-events-auto scroll-mt-[calc(var(--header-height)+min(200px,max(70px,20svh)))]" dir="auto" data-turn-id="88630483-7eb5-4271-b05b-c60c7df0102d" data-testid="conversation-turn-186" data-scroll-anchor="true" data-turn="assistant"> The silence after the Ghost’s disappearance felt heavier than the gunfire. Like the air itself was holding its breath.

I texted him at night, my thumb hovering over the keyboard for a full minute before I typed… Please just tell me you are okay. I don't need details. I just need to know you are breathing. He read it them all. I watched the little checkmarks appear, but he didn’t reply. And at the end of the first week, he stopped reading the texts all together. His number wasn’t reachable, it was as though he disappeared, but my heart wouldn’t take it. I couldn’t bring myself to believe he had ghosted me. So, I drove to his apartment again.

“I also handled his elopement note with his mistress. His family will get it soon.” But I barely listenedmy mind was elsewhere. Why the silence? Could it be that the sex was bad? Maybe I’d gotten rusty. The thought annoyed me, but curiosity won. “Tyson,” I said suddenly, “I want your opinion, and I need you to be objective.” He adjusted his glasses. “Of course, boss. What’s it about?” “What do you think it means when someone you sleep with starts ghosting you the next day?” I asked, rubbing my temples.