Ghosts Characters Novels & Stories

They were midway across the path, in front of a cemetery when suddenly graves started opening. "What is going on?" Isabella asked, clutching onto Chris tightly. Chris was suddenly sweating so furiously but Ariel was cool and her face was blank and devoid of any emotions. They stood there watching six tombs open and six scary-looking ghosts walked out. Isabella was already whitish in appearance knowing who they are. Chris's hairs were all up and his eyes green, his normal sight nature. "GREETINGS TO THE SPECIAL ONE." One of them muttered. "GREETINGS TO THE LITTLE GODDESS." Another muttered.

FALLING FOR A GHOST 3 - For Nevaeh is back from the land of the dead with a single purpose; avenge her own death and that of her sister, Heaven. Uche, a good-looking young man in his early twenties, who also happens to be an atheist has been unlucky with women in his previous relationships, he seeks true love and hopes to find it if only it existed.

It was menacing, feeling as if they had been thrown into the middle of a brawl. They were surrounded by ghouls and other banished creatures only heard of in scary bedtime stories. Each was massive and wielded fiercely smouldering weapons. Fiery fires were everywhere, and more dark creatures emerged from them. "Welcome!" Everyone turned towards the voice. They saw a woman, who was supposed to be dead a long time ago, standing before them. She was clad in a white flowy dress, resembling a wedding gown, and her long hair was adorned with intricate jewel pieces.

Of her heart continued walking through its alarming frantic beating, she might discover herself suddenly dead from a heart attack. " My name is Zach and my memories are foggy, that is the only thing I can remember about myself. " the ghost replied " What are you doing here. " Maisie asked " I don't know. One minute I was seating in a food court the next I was here. " the ghost shrugged as he settled down back on the couch which he got up from when the owner of the house he was staying in shouted that he should show himself. She straightens as she continues her questioning. " what are you. "

There was fresh blood on the floor, but the animal didn't react. I took a shaky step forward, my heart hammering against my ribs. The wolf didn't turn. I walked closer, standing five feet away and holding my bleeding hand out. Nothing. I walked until I was standing right next to the bars, inches from the cold metal. The wolf threw itself at the cage again, trying to get to Declan. Its claws sparked against the iron. It ignored me completely. I was invisible. "You really are a Ghost," Declan said softly. He walked up beside me. He raised the knife again and sliced his own palm.

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.

Like it forgot why it was there. “Oh,” the ghost said, disappointed. “They don’t have memories to take. Machines wearing wolf skin. How boring.” The Hybrid took another step and started to sink. The ground turned soft, like quicksand. “Things without memories can't exist here, the ghost explained as the Hybrid that disappeared into the earth. "But you have such lovely memories. So many to choose from." More Hybrids came. More started sinking. But there were so many of them. “Tick tock" the ghost sang. “What's it going to be?"

"But they don't protect against the ghosts of the pact. Ligeia didn't send sirens. She sent the Shadows of the fallen Scribes." A pale, translucent figure drifted through the wooden door as if it weren't there. It looked like a woman, but her eyes were hollow pits of ink, and her fingers were long, skeletal quills. "The Ancestors," I whispered, my heart freezing. "They think I’m a traitor for being with you." The ghost let out a silent, soul-piercing scream. Around us, the walls of the cabin began to weep black ink, the liquid pooling on the floor and rising like snakes.

"They aren't frozen soldiers. They’re data-ghosts with physical weight." One of the ghosts stepped out of the light. It moved with a terrifying, unnatural speed, its hand extending into a jagged blade of hard-light. It didn't scream. It just hissed—the sound of a thousand deleted files. Kaelor didn't hesitate. He dived under the ghost’s strike, his knife finding the creature’s throat. There was no blood. Just a spray of blue sparks and the smell of burning plastic. The ghost didn't die; it just flickered, its wound knitting back together instantly.