Ghosts Graphic Novels & Stories

He was tense earlier because of the stares, but I'm sure he was enjoying their adoration of him. Ghosts don't favor crowded spaces. Their real name is Myles McCormick, aka Ghost. He's only a few years younger than me before he joined the team. He has been given the name Ghost because of his code name. He is good at not being spotted. He's a great master of disguise, and you wouldn't think twice to know who or where he is. He's like a wandering ghost who came to fuck you.

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.

The other two… Those were where the fun happened. I dropped into my chair, set the plate beside the keyboard, and cracked my knuckles. “All right, Ghost.” My fingers danced across the keys. “Where are you?” A dozen command windows sprang to life. Lines of code streamed down the screens faster than most people could read them. Numbers, IP addresses, encrypted tunnels, relay nodes… Beautiful. Most people looked at this and saw gibberish. I saw fingerprints. Ghost was good. Better than good. They managed to stay invisible while making half the underground think they knew where they was. That alone was impressive.

“It just doesn’t make sense. Besides, well… we were tired last night. Maybe we imagined it, or something like that.” “You can’t both have the same hallucination. That’s impossible,” Alex replied, his voice firm but steady. Scarlett crossed her arms, nervous and confused. “I just can’t believe it… I really can’t. It’s just… I don’t know…” Alex stepped closer and gently took her hands. “Look into my eyes, Scarlett,” he asked in a whisper. She lifted her gaze, still full of doubt—and then she saw it. Alex’s eyes glowed an intense, unnatural green, something supernatural, as if she were getting lost in his stare, drawn in and terrified at the same time.

When they arrived at the hospital, Grayson was sitting beside Alice, carefully spooning chicken porridge into her mouth with the tenderness of a doting lover. I watched them, their actions as intimate as those of a couple deeply in love. The sight still stung, but the pain had dulled. Perhaps it was because I was already dead; what could any of it matter now? Death had a way of making even the most bitter grievances seem trifling. At least they could no longer disgust me the way they had when I was alive.

The sound reverberates through the Throat of Echoes like thunder, like prophecy, like the final word of a god: “The war has already been won.” Every version of me—Tyrant, Martyr, Warrior, Sage, even the flickering Ghost—falls to their knees. The compulsion is absolute, inevitable, written into the very structure of reality. We are moths before a sun that wears our own face. Only Ghost-me remains standing, and she's smiling. "Finally," she whispers, her form growing more solid even as the others fade. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Mark laid on the ground groaning and things about his past kept popping into his head. “Ro..se..” He stuttered with his last strength. He was going to die a weak man and that wasn’t fair. After few minutes of reminiscing what was happening and what had happened to him and his family, he saw an image walking closer to where he laid with pains all over his body. It was a man in his late thirties just as he was but he just couldn’t get to see who it was. The man’s face was blur. And no matter how hard he tried to strain his eye sight to see who it was he just couldn’t get a perfect gaze at him.

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,

The Ember Ghost opened his mouth and showed his sharp teeth before lowering her mouth to the exposed woman’s neck. The crowd watched in silence as the Ember Ghost appeared to suck the woman’s blood. The woman’s arms flailed weakly but her face looked serene, if not enjoying the experience. Then, the woman’s expression slowly changed into pain and she grimaced. She placed her arms around the Ember Ghost’s head weakly before dropping them weakly to her side. Then, the woman’s limp body slid out of view leaving the Ember Ghost standing. He wiped the remaining red stains from his mouth with a swipe of his arm before disappearing within the smoke that blew from across the float.

Those figures were human-shaped, but they were transparent as if they were just white shadows. Slowly, the number of white figures increased. One could even see organs on those figures, but those organs were distorted. The mouths were incredibly large, with two long fangs protruding out. They were like evil ghosts from hell. Brian formed even more seals, and the ghosts seemed to have heard summons as they started to gather where the seals were. Slowly, everyone started to hear cries of agony. There were those of men, women, and children. Various cries were heard. It was as if they were in hell. Brian let out a roar, and all of the ghosts gathered together and started to fuse into a massive s