Ghosts Aesthetic Novels & Stories

He said, once again he started moving without giving it a command. Akihoto was still curious to know. "And who is she?" He asked. "I can't tell you that's yet." "How come I can see ghosts?" "We share the same body for now, you can't see them but I can, which is why I am using you as my disguise. You are temporally a Divine Helper." He said, they walked towards the town, and Kazu felt its changes, how scared the people were, this was never the Greenville he knew, the town was rather frighten.

He stood up and walked to where he used to out his books, he took a small but old looking book and came back to where he was sitting, next to me. "I read it in this book , there is a certain theory which say that people might have ghost clones, these clones looks and dresses exactly like the original you and they can do anything you can do. Sometimes if you are lucky you can have a good clone but if you are unlucky you are likely to have a bad and evil clone , which means you are unlucky because yours is evil" he explained. His explanation shocked me , i have never heard such things and I've never believed in ghost theories.

"Wait. I need to know. Why did, uhm, whatever, carelessly pick me?" "Go back." The woman wasn't paying her any attention. She kept on plucking cowries and attaching them to her head. "What is he? Oh, don't answer that one. He's a ghost. I know that. Why is he in that state? No, no, why can I see him? Why can l feel his touch, ghosts can't do that, can they? What does he need me for?" The old woman stopped her scaly hands from further movements and stared directly at Geneva through her foggy eyes that obviously saw clearly.

he murmurs, “if you ever get tired of the silent brooding type, there are more fun options out there.” “Is that so?” I reply, my voice light. “Absolutely.” Before I can throw a retort back at him, someone slides into the space between us with the kind of smooth, quiet force that only comes from someone used to being obeyed. Ghost doesn’t say anything at first. He just plants himself squarely in front of Hectic, shoulders loose but energy sharp. Hectic blinks. “Well, hello—” “I’d move back a bit if I were you,” Ghost says, his voice low, steady, and far too calm to be casual.

“The question is if it really matters.” I joined Brett’s surprise at her words. She smiled. “There’s a lot of debate around what ghosts actually are. Are they what’s left of a person’s energy or are they actual souls? If they’re souls, it makes sense to hurry to help them move on. But I’m inclined to agree with my mentor’s theory, that they’re the remaining of people’s egos, not their soul.” “You lost me,” I said.

He crouched beside her, hand on her back, worrying for her stronger than his own pain. “A piece,” she whispered shakily. “It hides in objects and places full of strong feelings. It’s not just echoes, Kael. It’s planting, spreading to new hosts.” The threat was real and growing. The war was no longer with one enemy, but a spreading, ghostly plague. Ash’s face hardened. He looked from her trembling face to Ronan’s hard jaw. He felt useless, how could he protect them from ghosts he couldn’t see or fight? His frustration was like a living thing inside.

Ashley really wanted to punch him in the face. Morgan Blackstorm answered, "Why, don't you have the guts to admit it?" "You... don't be sentimental, I'm afraid!" Ashley had to explain. "Come down." Morgan Blackstorm's voice sank slightly, with a somewhat commanding tone. "No." Ashley wrapped her arms even tighter, "There are ghosts, I'm afraid." Morgan Blackstorm frowned, "Nonsense, how can there be ghosts in this world?" "Yes." Ashley refused to come down, "You just didn't see it!"

she gasped, “but they’ll haunt you.” I stepped forward, gripping Ace’s wrist. “Wait.” His eyes flashed. “Sentiment again?” “Strategy,” I lied, my pulse roaring. “She’s more alive.” Esther’s laugh echoed as Ace slammed the knife into the wall beside her head. “Pray I don’t change my mind.” --- Rain lashed the rooftop as I confronted him, the city below a smudge of shadows. “Who is she talking about?” Ace lit a cigarette, the ember flaring. “A ghost.”

had stopped caring about their descriptions. "You can't do this!" I roared, my violet-silver fire erupting in a blinding arc. "The Audit is over! We are the Un-Written!" "You are the Un-Edited," the Ghost replied, its form stabilizing into a tall, faceless figure draped in a cloak of Liquid Ink. "And an un-edited story is a failure. I am here to provide the Final Edit." The Ghost raised a hand, and the "Sovereign Static" began to Solidify. The lavender fog turned into Iron-Hard Lines of Text that wrapped around the villagers, pinning them to the ground with the weight of their own pasts.

Adam lamented. “I’m just wondering if maybe we should get him inside and bolt the door. This might not be the safest place for him after all. She’s getting a might closer and some of those zombie spirits look like they’re coming back to life in a not too friendly way.” He studied the spirits who were once so animated but were now acting dazed and confused. A few of them were losing that dazed look. It was being replaced by one of intelligence and… Anger? Hate? He couldn’t tell.