Ghostly Hollow Novels & Stories

I call ghost, he got more than one skill, and opening closed-door virtual and real ones are one of his many skills. He uses his key locks tools and messes with the door for a bit until it opens. Finally, I walk down with ghost behind me, I find a small girl laying naked on the floor. She's thin, too thin, her blond hair match mine only hers is dirty and matted on her head. Her blue eyes are hardly open, I can see bruises all over her fragile body. Taking off my shirt I cover her quickly and pick her up leaving this hell behind. "You're safe now baby sister" I whisper in her ears she closes her eyes letting darkness take her.

He stood straight with a serious face as he began his explanation. "Ghosts are the souls of dead humans who... well, aren't ready to rest in peace. They don't have powers. All they can do is move from one place to another without being seen. Well, not by everyone though." "But... if you're a demon, why then are you in this form?" She couldn't help but ask.

So I let Trisha know, so she would let Isaac know, so Isaac would let Brandon know and he would do whatever he wanted with it. Brett would call once a week, and his updates kept getting better and better: no new scuffles, Kujo was healthier and stronger than ever, Gina and the children were happy to have been left alone at last, and nobody suspected the male spirit cussing and threatening night visitors in the Rockwell Tunnels wasn’t the infamous Skippy. Quaker Hall was active as hell, and the haunting there was getting more aggressive by the week. Like the dark entities were pissed off about something.

The hollow whistle in her throat turned into a soft human sob. One by one the other Hollowed reached the top. They did not attack the warriors. They gathered around me a sea of silver ghosts seeking the sun. I felt Ronans hand on my shoulder his strength pouring into me to keep me from fainting as the Hollowed drained my energy. I was a living bridge, between the Moon and the abandoned. Kael whispered, "Look," and pointed to the center of the pit.

With a click, the clasp came undone, and the pendant fell to the floor. In a flash, Zoe’s eyes widened. She grabbed my collar like a madwoman. “Y-You… You didn’t switch fates? You lied to me?!” I looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” Miles suddenly exclaimed, “Ow, Maisie. My neck feels itchy.” He pulled down his collar, exposing his collarbone, and clearly revealed who was actually wearing the demonic fate-swapping lock.

I managed to whisper, my eyes fluttering shut. "The ledger is finished," Silas said, his voice a low rumble that was blissfully silent in my head. No psychic echo. No judgment. Just the cold wind. "Now we start the design for your ghost." As he carried me toward the Northern Citadel, I felt the "Voice" of the Crescent Pack finally fade into static. Roman was screaming into the void, but for the first time in a long while, I couldn't hear him. The pavement had cracked. And I had finally fallen through.

The possessive way he fucked me like he both hated and needed me. I forced a grin. “You’re crazy, man. You watch too many movies.” He stepped aside but whispered as I passed, “Run while you still can. He’ll ruin you.” Later that day, I overheard two employees gossiping near the cafeteria. “Did you hear about The Ghost? Some billionaire who shows up masked at underground parties. Pays good money, fucks like a demon, then vanishes. Nobody ever sees his face.” I laughed it off again. But deep inside of me, i was worried for myself.

Before they made gods, they tested ghosts.” --- Thirty-one years ago. Hollow’s first real breath was not in a lab. It was in a coffin. It began in a place not listed on any map. Room 314, Hollow Sector 0: Beneath Navarro’s original corporate campus in Valeburn. Room 314 had no windows. No nameplate. Just a steel door locked from the outside and a viewing glass designed for one-way shame. Inside, they didn’t teach children.

The storm roars, hungry. I grip the needle. The village dissolves. --- **The Hollowfather's Gift** The hollow isn't a place. It's a *being*. A colossus of static and teeth, its form endlessly unraveling. It has no face, but I feel its gaze-a pressure that cracks my ribs, that liquifies my resolve. *"You've always been mine,"* it croons. *"The Weaver stole you. Shrank you. Let me remake you."* The storm begs. *"Let him."*

Every step tightened the pressure behind his sternum, pulling him deeper. “You always hated this place,” Vex’s voice echoed suddenly, smooth and amused. “Said it smelt like ghosts.” Riven stopped. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere—reverberating through tunnels, bleeding through walls. “Funny thing,” Vex continued. “Turns out ghosts don’t leave. They just change shape.” Riven’s jaw set. “Show yourself.” Laughter rippled through the dark. Lights flickered to life one by one, revealing a massive junction chamber ahead—old control panels, broken signal boards, and cables hanging like exposed veins.