Grim Grinning Ghosts Novels & Stories

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.”

he murmurs, “if you ever get tired of the silent brooding type, there are more fun options out there.” “Is that so?” I reply, my voice light. “Absolutely.” Before I can throw a retort back at him, someone slides into the space between us with the kind of smooth, quiet force that only comes from someone used to being obeyed. Ghost doesn’t say anything at first. He just plants himself squarely in front of Hectic, shoulders loose but energy sharp. Hectic blinks. “Well, hello—” “I’d move back a bit if I were you,” Ghost says, his voice low, steady, and far too calm to be casual.

We exchanged glances for a second, but I was quick to avert my gaze and I didn't even know why. They've got tattoos on their faces and arms down to their shoulders. It was in the middle of the road, the sides surrounded by a lake. The one with a bird tattoo stepped forward, his smirk wider than the rest. “Look who we have here. It's Ghost” he laughed. “The soulless dead man who is here to haunt us today. Oh, I'm getting scared” another said. They laughed, and I let them hold their peace before they ended up in misery.

"You really just want to sit here and see if she sticks her head out and waves? Because we can do that. We can also stick our thumbs up our asses and do nothing if that's your speed, too." "Anyone ever tell you that you're an asshole?" Ghost barked a laugh and grinned. It wasn't a friendly expression and Grant doubted the man smiled often. "Only every day of my life," Ghost said. "Come on. Tell the bastards you were just keeping me in check." Ghost got out, leaving Grant no choice but to kill the engine and follow. The silence was eerie given the location. Not a soul stirred and the only sound was that from the main road a quarter mile away.

“You’re late.” My head popped up as I recognized the gravelly voice. Ghost was leaning against the side of the building, looking like a badass GQ model. He wore slim black cotton pants and a greyish-brown button-down shirt that looked tailored and expensive. The shirt was untucked underneath his motorcycle jacket in an attempt to look casual. Most of the girls walking by walked into one another or stumbled on the edge of the sidewalk. The fact that his eyes were steeled on me raised my spirits.

The golden chain around his neck were nearly blinding to my sight,not as much as brightness of his wide mouth-- toothy smile. He was amused. I nodded my head and smiled back at him. I've been use to this life,it could be exciting and ugly at the same time. It was a rollercoaster ride that you can't full get down when the ride begins. "That's Jim Carrey!" Gus whispered harshly as he stared into the crowd room. "Who?" I asked. "The Grinch? The guy Truman show. What if we're in a show right now and don't know about it.." he said. His eyes balls were poking out of his head and they were beginning to dry up because of he didn't blink the whole time.

My breath was choked up in my throat seeing her state. She was drenched with her own blood that camouflaged with her red shimmering torn dress. Blood blanketed her entire face. Her flesh was torn all over by the shards of the crystal chandelier. Some shards even stayed still on her cheeks. What caught my eyes were the lines of ripped flesh across both of her cheeks from the corners of her lips up to her ears. “Why do ghosts appear with a face before they die?” I quivered and looked away. “She desires something that’s why she hasn’t crossed over yet,” Grip opened up.

Even if she did, she'd blame it on the wind. "Ghost?" Sharon was becoming concerned, "I thought you don't believe in such things?" "Really? Oh, em." Geneva cleared her throat and spoke confidently, "that's true, I am not scared by flimsy things such as ghooosts!" The last word Sharon heard was the word 'ghosts' being screamed into her eardrums before she heard nothing else. The phone had fallen and disassembled and the call, disconnected.

he echoed. “Now we let her dance a little longer—Let her play her little games" “Why?” Grinch asked, voice low but edged with curiosity. "She definitely has plans up her sleeves" Antonio crushed out his cigar in a crystal ashtray, “Palooka! That’s the difference between hunters and ghosts, Grinch—hunters chase, therefore making the worst mistakes when they think they've won—But ghosts? Ghosts erase.” Picking up his glass, He circled to his desk, where a file lay open—a photograph of John paper-clipped to a set of blueprints.