Gift Ghost

"I will kill anyone that touches you, Aria. I don't give a fuck if it's your mate, I'll end him in a second." He growled, his gaze filled with intensity. "Alpha..." "Tell me what you want, Aria. Diamonds? Cars? I will buy it all for you, as long as you agree to be mine." *** But my love story with the formidable Alpha Cole didn't begin as a fairytale, In fact, he wanted to kill me when we first met, blackmailed me into working for him. *** "Will...you kill me, sir?...What happens if I...don't want to work for you?" The Alpha lifted a perfectly arched brow, "you know the saying, Ms. Smith. Keep your enemies closer. I'm afraid if you don't agree with me, then I will be disposing of you, tonight." Shit, what had I got myself into? *** Aria has the perfect life; she is the daughter of the Pack's beta, blessed with the gift of prophecy and is mated to the future Alpha of her pack. But everything crashes when her vision causes her family's exile and her mate chooses the pack's decision over protecting her. In one day, she is rejected by her mate and disowned by her family. At this lowest moment appears Alpha Cole Roman, formidable leader of the infamous Shadow Walker pack and CEO of the largest corporation whose sex appeal is as high as his level of ruthlessness. Like an inferno, he is capable of igniting the fire of love and hope in her heart again, or she could burn in the blazing hell he creates for his enemies. What will she become to this man who plays by his own rules and has sworn revenge on her former pack, especially when her ex-mate comes trying everything to get her back?

Thousand years ago, the great and powerful city of Atlantis existed in all its full glory ok Earth. Today, Atlantis is but historical ghost and the only remnant of the myth of the lost Nation is a girl called Ava.

In the Philippines, there is a well-known and commonly practiced superstitious belief called pagpag, loosely translated as "to dust-off." One should never go home directly after visiting a wake or a funeral, because the ghost of the deceased might latch on and cause hauntings or attract evil. Now, where can Filipinos pagpag and lead spirits astray? It could be anywhere: a restaurant, a mall, that house down the street where your toxic ex lives… but usually, people opt for 7-Eleven convenience stores and nobody knows why. Follow the story of Akira Basilio: a part-time staff who mans the Luntian Street 7-Eleven on Thursday and Friday nights, which sounds completely normal; except Akira had the ability to communicate with the dead. She maintained a quiet life by keeping her sixth sense a secret from both the living and the departed, until a particularly persistent spirit flips everything into chaos when he entangles Akira in a hunt for a murderer.

Soul Eaters"It started out slowly, quietly; as epidemics usually do... This was something else, something that could only be dreamt up in the darkest recesses of the mind."With the world coming to an end, Vicki's black and white world is about to be shaken to the core. She must relearn all she's ever known and believed. She must wake up in time to take a path only she can take. But who can she trust? Will she be able to see past her narrow views of the world?Journey for the SoulsThe world is a tomb. Death, destruction and chaos are at their doorstep threatening everything they hold dear. Soul Eaters. A name designed to strike fear into even the bravest. Between fighting her family and the very world any woman would lose herself to the strain. But Vicki has to hold it together. She has to survive otherwise it's not just her soul at stake.*Extreme violence* *18+* *Some content may disturb*Soul Eaters is created by R.L. Ankney, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.

On my husband's birthday, I poured my heart into preparing a feast and selecting the perfect gift. Yet, he didn't come home. Instead, I received a picture message—a snapshot of him at the hospital, standing outside the OB-GYN ward, his hand resting tenderly on his childhood crush's belly. Beneath the photo, a message read: [The best birthday gift and a symbol of our decade-long bond.] Furious, I called her. "Don't you know he's married?" Before I could say more, my husband snatched the phone and lashed out at me. "Yvonne just wanted to share the joy of becoming a mother. Why are you overreacting? "Yvonne and I have been best friends for over a decade. Your petty jealousy is disgusting!" I once believed his busyness was for our future, but now I knew—he had been busy supporting the girl of his dreams through her pregnancy. Clutching my own stomach, I bit my lip to stop the tears from falling. Ten years of love had drained away. It was time to let go.

In the third year of our marriage, my wife’s ex-boyfriend of eight years suddenly posted a picture on social media showing off a multi-million-dollar wedding house. His caption read: “Wow, got myself a huge villa, I’m the master of charming women!” I stared in shock at the picture, which showed my wife swiping her card at a sales office, and left a single comment: "?" A second later, my wife called to scold me. “I was just fulfilling a promise I made to him back when we were dating, buying him a house. Why are you getting mad at him?” “What? Are you really going to be so vicious as to force me to break my word?” That evening, her ex showed off another lavish post, this time flaunting a renovation bill worth hundreds of thousands. I knew it was a gift from my wife to please him. But by then, I no longer cared.

I was on a business trip out of town when I got a text from my neighbor. [Can you and your husband keep it down? Also, one of your undies fell onto my balcony.] Shocked, I opened the photo she had sent. The underwear wasn't even my style, but it matched the one I'd seen in my husband's online shopping cart. He'd told me it was a gift for me, but I remember noticing the size—it was one size larger than mine. When confronted with the neighbor's message, my husband swore that the house must've been broken into and claimed the intruder left the item behind. But something about his story didn't sit right, so I decided to dig further. That was when I stumbled upon his social media. His latest post was just three words. [I bought this.] It was paired with a photo of a lingerie gift set. Beneath it, there was a comment. [I'm wearing it.] Attached was a picture of a woman's legs—and the unmistakable background of my living room. The evidence was undeniable. I packed up the underwear and brought it straight to the police. "My husband says our house was broken into. This was left behind by the intruder, and it might have DNA on it."

Every bonding anniversary, Shawn would bring home a new human girl from the outside—always under the lovely pretense of letting me mentor her on how to serve an Alpha. On our seventh anniversary, he brought back a nightclub girl dressed in a Princess Snow White outfit—cheap satin trembling under the chandelier's light. “She doesn’t have anything appropriate for an occasion like this,” he said casually. “Let her borrow your bonding dress. And the jewelry I gave you last time. As for shoes—what you're wearing now will do.” Then he added, with a trace of irony, “She’s just a young human girl, clueless. Teach her a few things about our world, will you? Especially the part about the bed.” Everyone was waiting for the spectacle—for me to break again, as I always had. And I didn’t disappoint them. I looked at Shawn, my voice steady, and said I wanted a bond-severance. He laughed—short and sharp—and leaned back like he was watching a comedy. “Clara, when are you going to stop with this bond-severance nonsense? I’ve heard it so many times. They’re just human girls, while you are my Luna. How could they ever compare to you?” Then, grinning as if doing me a favor, he added, “Fine. If you really want a bond-severance, I’ll gift you a territory in the south. Consider it a reward for doing your job as my Luna.” The room erupted in laughter. To them, I was ridiculous—greedy, jealous, hysterical. But what they didn’t know was that this was the 365th time I’d asked for a bond-severance. And the first time, I truly meant it. When he found out I wasn’t joking this time, he lost his composure. He searched for me across the world—only after he realized I was no longer where he thought I’d always be.

I give my grandmother a gift she'll never forget on her 60th birthday. My husband and I get into a fight on the highway back to my hometown. He pulls over in the emergency lane and chases me out of the car. He then drives off, leaving me stranded on the highway. He later gets into a major accident on the highway. His car is totaled, and he dies. It's actually not an accident—it's homicide. I'm the murderer.

The world is full of corruption, tragedy, and disaster. Rape, murder, embezzlement, human trafficking. You name it. There is nothing humans won’t do for money, power or self-gratification. More than that it always seems that the downtrodden and the good-natured always suffer the most. The cherry on top? All this suffering is supposed to be rewarded in heaven when you die…if you make it there that is. Sounds ridiculous, right? Don’t worry you aren’t alone. My name is Jasmine Peters and I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired as the world around me crumbles while Sky Daddy watches from his ivory tower. I was cursed with the ability to read minds and now I’m owning this curse on my own terms and saving whoever I can with it. If God won’t help us… I will.Gabriel: I’ll never understand The Almighty’s infatuation with these creatures. Humans demand so much, but yet they give so little and whatever they are given they destroy. The audacity of this human especially leaves me particularly annoyed. She dares to defy divinity and scoffs in the face of The Almighty when it was divinity that has gifted her with the ability to do so in the first place. Only a creature as lost as a human would be given a gift and label it a curse. Nonetheless, as the hand of The Almighty, I will do as I am asked by tending the flock and heard this lost sheep back to pasture. As troublesome as she may be, I fear there is something much more sinister at play and she appears to be at the epicenter of this chaos.