Ghoulettes Ghost Novels & Stories

My voice bounced around the tiny apartment, thick with rage I couldn't hold back. The ceiling light started going berserk, flickering on and off wildly. A chill shot up my spine, sharper and deeper than ever before. In the corner, a patch of shadow began to twist and ripple, gathering into one spot. A human-shaped silhouette, darker than the darkness around it, slowly peeled itself out of the shadows. The figure was tall and slender—it was a woman's outline wrapped in an indistinct shroud of black mist. There was no wind, but it felt like the air had been sucked from the room in an instant. Then, an icy, emotionless voice rang out. It wasn't in my ears, but directly inside my head.

I heard the faint rasping of a wheeze nearby, causing me to clutch onto Andy while I turned my head. "Something is watching us," I whispered to her. "I know," she whispered back, causing my heart to race further. "There's about 6 ghouls following us right now. They aren't coming closer because of the light, but they are also here because of the light." "Shit," I cursed under my breath. "What do we do?" "Now? We fight them off, I'll tell you where they are and you wrap them with shadows and drag them out for me to stab their hearts out," she whispered softly as she continued to walk like we were not aware of their presence.

A ghoul—a smoky, semi-corporeal horror with glowing red eyes and clawed hands—materialized from the shadows and slammed into him. He grunted in pain as his back connected hard with the carriage, the breath knocked from his lungs. The cube clattered to the ground but continued its ominous pulse. The ghoul, joined by a second, shambled toward him. The mayor, witnessing this, screamed, and the few townsfolk nearby scattered.

Walter rumbled as they all settled their attention on Mantilo. "These claw markings....the scent of bile....the black fluids...." The large Clan Head said at first instead of answering, glancing dispassionately at the damage and claw marks all about the room. "That's is a definite sign that what I had feared all this time is true." He finally began. "These things, these intruders are called Ghouls. I hadn't come across one of their kind in many decades. So when I first spotted the dead moose's and the black slime on the bodies my memory was tickled, but I couldn't exactly put the pieces together until I visited the library and recovered a few scrolls...."

The greenish-blue glow was a little off, but nearly every single window was wide open! The frost wraith, Chloe, floated to the front. Her little face was wrinkled with worry. The Hungry Dead clutched his precious empty bowl. His drool threatened to spill from the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were full of concern. The banshee had stopped crying, sniffing and staring upward. The Poltergeist was holding some random rusty pipe, looking ready to charge up and tear the building apart… There were also the Hanged Ghost, Shadow Sneak, Pipe Phantom…

"Why wouldn’t it be ghouls?" The floor trembled as the creatures slammed into the outer walls. Elias skidded into the hall, duffel bag over his shoulder. "What the hell is that?" "Ghouls," Kai said. "Welcome to the worst night of your life." The front door exploded inward in a shower of splinters. The first ghoul charged through — a massive, gray-skinned beast with glowing yellow eyes and claws like daggers. Lucian didn't hesitate. He threw a dagger straight into its skull.

Our room, a sanctuary of love and power within the Packhouse, was breached under the veil of morning's light. The air shifted, a cold, almost palpable darkness seeping into our room. I stirred, sensing the disturbance before it fully revealed itself. My instincts, honed through years of leadership and battle, screamed a warning. The faint, almost imperceptible sound of movement reached my ears. Ghouls. Creatures of the night, forsaken and lost, but deadly. Their presence here, in the heart of my territory, was a declaration of war.

Marcus, the quiet guy from accounting leaned against the door, arms crossed, with a bitter smirk twisting his lips. “McAllen,” he said. “You’ve been looking real happy lately. I see you enjoy your late night with the boss.” My stomach dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?” He stepped closer, I could see the jealousy in his eyes. “ I saw you leaving the private elevator. Looking like a man whose ass has taken some cock. You’re not the first, you know. The Ghost destroys anyone who tries to get close. You’re just the latest toy.” “The Ghost?” I laughed it off, but my voice sounded shaky even to me. “Sounds like some movie legend bullshit.”

It was a Psychological-Horror landscape—the sanctuary had become a gallery of Elara’s maternal trauma. "Elara, stay back," Kazimir warned, drawing his Glitch-Blade. The flickering edge hissed as it moved through the air, sensing the Corrupted-Code of the ghosts. "The garden is dying, Elara," the ghosts whispered in unison, a hundred different voices creating a Polychromatic Chorus that shook the ground. "The General is gone, but the shards remain. We are the 'Infection' you can never delete." One of the ghosts—the one in the lab coat—walked toward Elara. She didn't have feet; she drifted across the grass, the moss turning to gray ash beneath her. She stopped inches from Elara’s face.

“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.