Ghosts Characters Novels & Stories

Ghost is a dark fae, which means he’s greedy, likes death, and likes pretty women with spunk. His short white hair is spiked. Ghost wears a black sleeveless hoodie and black and white checkered jeans with black boots. His eyebrows, nose, and lips are all pierced with gages in both ears. His pointed ears give him away that he is fae. Ghost has all black eyes, much like one would think a demons would be if they were real. Some things are just stories made up of distorted truths. Demons and angels fall into that category. Ghost's pasty white skin almost glows under the glow of the flashing lights.

Tasha was devastated about the reality of her being a ghost. She thought she was dead, she had dreams. Even if she acted like a slut whose only interests were parties and getting boys hard for fun. She wanted to be a doctor, just to save lives. But everything was never gonna happen for her, and she thought everything had ended for her.

He lifted up his black machete and strode towards Nathan. Ghost had a muscular physique and walked in broad steps. Additionally, he was a trained ancient warrior. Each of his firm steps seemed to tremble the earth underneath the soles of his feet. Ghost was able to intimidate everyone with just his unique presence alone. Gasper and Nuella shared a wary glance. They knew that the Ghost was not someone to be taken lightly. Even Hilda could sense Ghost's terrifying aura. Nathan was the exception of the group. He had a calm mask over his features. It looked like he wasn't the slightest bit intimidated by the Ghost's aura.

Pulling the reins, we galloped through the valleys and rocky roads. As we got deeper into the valleys, the screaming sounds of dead souls increased. Not to mention some where dead souls of Knights and horses who started chasing her are from back. " They are larger in number. I can't waste my mana on them because more danger is yet to arrive," Martina informed as she increased her speed. " Leave it to us," Xavier and I unsheathed our swords and continuously slashed off the approaching ghosts. It was strange because the ghosts were said to have no bodies.

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.

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.

"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.