Hot Ghost Face Mga Nobela at Kwento

The other men in the van rushed to catch their fallen comrade, when a familiar face popped into existence. Ghost melted from thin-air, his eyes black as night. In his hand was the blood-soaked blade that had gone through the throat of the male that had planned on raping me. He smiled at the others, this deadly, flat thing that had the hairs along the back of my neck rising. I’d never say this aloud, but Ghost was even more frightening than my would-be rapist.

Leon panted, scanning the dim corridor as his breath came in uneven bursts. Suddenly, a faint figure emerged out of the shadows—the female ghost. Her face was blurred and indistinct, her presence otherworldly. She didn’t speak but raised a hand that glowed faintly blue, pointing silently in a specific direction. Leon froze, instinctively stepping back half a pace. But time was slipping through his fingers, and hesitation was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to follow the ghost’s lead.

She called out, her voice echoing eerily in the vast emptiness. "Ghost?" she whispered, her voice barely a sound. A chuckle, low and sardonic, filled the darkness. Then, a single figure emerged from the shadows. Tall and shrouded in darkness, its face hidden beneath a hood, this was Ghost.

It feels like the memory of someone else. I walk into what I assume is the living room, and my eyes land on a collection of framed photographs on a sideboard near the wall. I stop. These aren’t casual pictures. The angles are strange. I reach for one and hold it close. It’s a young Ghost, maybe ten or eleven, but it’s clear the photo wasn’t taken by someone standing near him. These were taken from a distance, maybe through a window or across a street. Someone was watching him.

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.

It came from a dark corner at the rear in front of them. They all stared ahead waiting for the silhouetted figure to fully expose himself. Orbin and the Reptillian had also beat the collaborators and the collaborators were lying in a heap all over the floor defeated. The figure finally revealed himself, he had a hideous face! Mahali gasped and almost screamed in terror at the horrible face: He had yellow eyes a mouth that was carved into a sneer and no nose, for his hair, he had tentacles. “It’s Gaxgs!” wendy gasped.

Another roar, much closer. “The Library doesn't like violence,” the ghost said. “You both should go. Now.” “But we had a deal. My memory—” “Later,” The ghost started to fade. “If you survive. Big if.” The pool in the middle started to bubble. Something was climbing out. Something with Victor's voice but not Victor's shape. “Run,” the ghost whispered, nearly gone. “Get out now.” A hand burst from the pool—wolf fur and metal plates. Then an arm. Then a head that was Victor's face stretched over a metal skull, his eyes replaced with red lights.

“I…?” My mouth dropped open to say something, but Luca put his hand on my back. Closing it, I just moved my attention back to the picture. That wasn’t there when I took them. Leaning back to I was standing up, I just studied it. “I didn’t see that when I was there.” “Did you notice these?” Heather moved to the next picture. Dad’s supposed ghost was gone, but there were two very distinct yellow… almost orangish eyes glowing above the entrance.

They were both staring at us, as though they could see through the camera. “See you soon, little niece,” Phoenix mouthed. I stumbled back just as Ghost's system flashed a beeping red interface and everything went black.

And she’s smiling. The fluid tastes like memories. That's the first thing I notice when I open my eyes. The second thing? Them. Demi's knife already drawn. Jeff's finger white on the trigger. Eva's golden eyes wide with something worse than fear—recognition. And the other me—the neon-haired ghost who's been wearing my face—standing between us like a shattered mirror. I press my palm against the glass. It dissolves at my touch. "You weren't supposed to find me yet," I say.