Romans & histoires Ghosts Aesthetic

Four years later in the Robin's house:: "Good m…." Crystal who was hurrying to go into the kitchen tried greeting but then Red interrupted her kind gestures. "Will you get your filthy face off my sight this minute!!" He ordered in a rude tone. He got disgusted seeing how she had ran out from no where and bumping into him. He disliked it when humans who weren't related to him acted all weird more especially when it was a female gender. His hands were fixed into his blue jean pockets and his gaze on Crystal was cold. She felt shirtless as she stood in front of him.

“I am a function of aesthetic efficiency. Your territory has become a noisy subplot. I am here to quiet it down. To make it… readable.” It gestured with its stylus. From its book, a beam of flat, white light shot out and touched our cottage wall. Where it touched, the texture of the wood—the grain, the knots, the subtle variations in color—smoothed out into a featureless, beige plane. It wasn't erased; it was genericized. This was the worst invasion yet. They weren't trying to destroy or control. They were trying to make us boring. “Over my dead, highly specific body,” I snarled, lightning crackling at my fingertips.

The laboratory didn’t just smell of chemicals; it tasted of ancient rot and artificial lightning. As the Ghost Wolves—those twitching, violet-veined abominations of my father’s desperate making—scrambled out of their shattered glass coffins, the temperature in the room plummeted. They didn’t move like the wolves of the Roux pack. There was no grace in their limbs, no ancestral intelligence in their eyes. They moved with a jerky, stop-motion horror, their bones snapping and resetting with every lunging step, as if their bodies were rejecting the very muscles that drove them forward.

she laughs "like they say these days faking it in style." I give her a confused look "what?" "You know, when you're in a fake relationship, these days that's what everyone's doing." "Well, I'm only doing this for mom, and trust me I will not develop falling for him." "My dear friend, you're saying that now, but when the time comes you'll be dying for his touch, his kiss, his scent, his di- ah" I shot her with Levi's water gun. That damn dirty mouth girl. "Charlotte you bitch," she curses, ask I continue to shot her.

“ What?! Your mom? How did she have the mind to do that to a daughter she carried for a whole nine month, nurse her from a little baby to a girl and from a girl to a woman, are you sure she is your mom? Rosie asks. “ Something that still bothers my mind even being a ghost I am still yet to find out if she is really my mom and you know I was really surprise to find out that my sister was alive and never come back home to us” Evelyn says. “My reason for making use of my sisters body was to avenge my death only for me to unravel something and I realize the more I stay calm using my sisters body the more I will get to know why my mother killed me” she says.

I reached out and pressed the radio button on the steering wheel. My voice was cold, cutting through the static. "Mason Vale, do you see a ghost in your mirror?" I said coldly into the radio. Those words pierced straight through Mason's last line of composure. His car hesitated for an obvious instant on the straight. Now. I smashed the throttle down. The car tore through the air and pulled alongside him. Ahead was a chain of fast S-curves. Seeing that I was about to pass, a vicious look flashed through Mason's eyes.

He drove with purpose, and I, like a phantom shadow, drifted along in his wake. I followed him as he made his rounds in a department store, buying things he had never once considered buying for me. It wasn't hard to see the distinction between love and indifference. My ghostly form seemed to grow heavier with every step, weighted down by the bitterness of seeing the man I had loved so deeply pamper another woman so thoroughly.

"In the sky, they were a collective. Down here, they are fragments looking for a 'Seed' to grow around. If they find a human host, they will attempt to bond. They don't want to be ice; they want to be Warm again." "We can't let them bond," Sloane argued, her hand on the hilt of her wrench. "We just got our heads clear of the Auditor’s noise. If we let these 'Atmospheric Ghosts' in, we’ll be walking graveyards. We need to sweep them away—melt them down and vent the energy." Kael looked at a patch of frost near his feet. It was forming the shape of a small, translucent hand. "They saved us, Sloane. They sublimated so we wouldn't burn. We can't just 'vent' them like waste steam."

A chill danced down my spine. “Willa,” Corvin said. “You’re seeing that too.” “Yeah,” I breathed. “I’m seeing it.” Ghostly giggles skittered across the plaza. Some came from ahead, some from behind, and some from places that made no spatial sense at all—as if the sound was coming from inside my ears, not from the air. I wrapped my arms around myself. These weren’t just any ghosts. They felt… familiar. Not specific people. Not faces I could name. It's more like moods. Tropes. The kind of characters I’d sketched a dozen times and abandoned when something shinier came along.

Yet her faith in God, the Creator who held both the living and the dead in His hands, gave her strength to face them without despair. “Don’t,” she finally whispered, her voice shaky with reluctance. “It’s better if you don’t know. I’m sure the image won’t leave your mind once you hear it.” She glanced involuntarily toward the ghost, who remained exactly where she had been—standing silently beside George’s chair. The female spirit’s face was unnaturally pale, almost grayish, with sunken cheeks and eyes that were completely black, like two empty voids. Her lips were slightly parted in a perpetual, silent exhale, and faint dark veins traced across her forehead and neck. The sight was haunting,