Ghostly Reaper Novels & Stories

Tears rolls down his mom’s face while Evelyn spirit walks into the office smiling and she flashes back to how her spirit comes out of Marylyn’s body and keeps following her mom, she was feeling pitied for her at the party that she doesn’t know she was dead only for her to see her buying chemical at the chemical shop and injecting it to her drink and gives it to a waiter to bring it to Marylyn who was sited finding everything strange. She was shocked to see her mother inject the drink and wanted to give Marylyn because she thought she was the one and she when the waiter was about bringing it she entered into the waiter to control her at that moment and she changes the drink and she serves her

But your mother's about to die—I know you'll show up. Her words jolted me back to reality. I pressed a hand to my chest, where my heart ached with a dull, numbing pain. How I wished I could tell her myself. That I've been here all along. It's just that... I've been dead for four years.

He shrugged casually. "Only real reapers can drink it, have you ever seen a collection card," he asked curiously and I nodded and told him I could read it too. Grim told me to follow him as he rushed through his home. We were going deep into the bowels of his home when we stopped in front of a metal door. "There are several tests beyond this door that will test if you're a reaper, I will join you to keep you safe," he told me softly and brushed my cheek as he opened the door. The distinct smell of decaying flesh struck my senses and I looked around for the source.

"Are you looking to hire a proxy fighter?" "Order now, and I strike immediately. Ironclad confidentiality guaranteed for a slight premium." The Goblin audibly gulps, staring at my exorbitant rates. "But your prices are insanely high! Can't you give me a discount?" "Absolutely not, sweetie. The Reaper strikes with lethal efficiency. My prices will only go up from here." "Come on, Reaper," the Goblin pleads, leaning closer with a desperate, sleazy smile. "I can offer you some...free physical relief in exchange. Just give me a small discount—"

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.

Subtle, but I notice everything. Klaus de Luca. He didn’t see me as he entered a room alone. I didn’t hesitate. Silently, smoothly, I followed. The door was just starting to close when— CRASH! A vase flew at my head. I ducked instinctively, the ceramic shattering against the wall behind me. I straightened slowly, blade already drawn. Then I heard his voice. Low. Calculated. “So... you’re the Ghost Knife. The woman with no past. No future. Who sent you ? .”

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.

My magic hovered at my fingertips, ready to stop time at a moments— “Boo.” A scream ripped itself from me, cracking off the treetops. Damon and Ghost stepped from the shadows like two creeping grim reapers. Damon’s brows vanished into his hair, which hung over his forehead in sweat-damp waves, while Ghost grinned like a cat that got the cream. “Sorry,” he held his hands up. “I couldn’t resist.” “Fuck you.” I panted, then spun around only to find myself half a centimeter away from a distorted shadowy face. “AGH!”

Cale whispered. "I live here. This is my studio." "Get out!" Cale grabbed the brass lamp from the floor. He threw it. It flew through the ghost. It hit the easel. CRASH. The painting of the Reaper fell. It landed face down on the floor. The ghost vanished. Cale slumped back onto the couch. He was gasping, sweat stinging his eyes. "Hallucination," Cale chanted. "Chemical imbalance. Not real." But the question remained.

Asked Ria. "Who knows? Because there some unfinished business? She or he carrying a grudge? I do not know either. But what certain is that if one becomes a ghost because they died tragically and become a terrifying ghost…” Loren shrugged. Oh really? But the one that’s in the house, was far from scary. He even looked like an ordinary human. Handsome human. Except for the fact that the figure was transparent and could walked through the wall… Also inhale the aroma of food to eat…