Johnny Ghost Novels & Stories

"What... what happened here?" Johnny's labored breaths punctuated the heavy silence, his once-vibrant spirit now dimmed by the specter of mortality. His eyes, clouded with the weight of impending departure, sought Asmo's gaze, conveying a profound sense of sorrow and resignation. "It was... Satan," Johnny's voice, a mere whisper, trembled with the weight of his revelation. "He... he did this." Asmo's features contorted with a potent mix of sorrow, fury, and grim determination. The revelation of Satan's malevolent presence in their midst cast a pall of profound apprehension over the dire circumstances that had unfolded.

“Beat him to death. Believe it or not, Ghost was minding his own business. He was walking down the street and some kid decided to mug him. He kicked the knife out of his hand and beat the kid to death. He got a year because the judge thought he went over the top and the kid had just turned eighteen.” “Damn. Has he said anything? Given anybody up?” “Nope. Hell, we asked him if he was hungry and he still didn’t say anything,” Williamson said. “Hmmm. Okay, keep at him. Anything else?” “Um, yeah. We searched his pockets. He had pictures of Jesse, Bonnie, Lester, Jacobs, Jackie, George, Jodi, Danielle, David, and even Joe. Looks like he’s been watching them for some time.” Matt fought to keep his

was still echoing in my goddamn chest, soft and thunderous all at once. And then this. Gio wanted to unravel her. Piece by piece. He wasn’t coming with armies, he was coming with ghosts. With messages carved into flesh. He was reminding us that monsters don’t always knock. They just let themselves in. My phone buzzed. Another message. Another body. This one was worse.

77 in cash. The ghost story doesn't end. It just multiplies.

The coincidence was just too much to be true. He took another look at the name on the ID card; with his imaginative eyes he slowly turned the name Heaven backwards and it appeared as Nevaeh. He has been sleeping with a ghost he concluded. There was no need to call a prophet to reveal it, even the blind will see and understand this. He needs to drive this thought away, make the pain and fear disappear, he needs to get drunk; so he ran away from the morgue and went to a beer parlour.

Gideon lets out a barking laugh but doesn’t say anything about the bed or the collection of whips and things on the floor. Ghost is standing right outside of the bedroom door; he’s so close that Gideon almost slams into him, but Ghost seems completely unbothered. He’s got a massive smile on his face and he’s holding out a velvet blue box while looking directly at me. “Glow worms shouldn’t be this happy.” I mutter, which only makes Ghost smile more and Gideon laugh a little as he steps to the side. I watch in horror as Ghost drops to one knee, holds up the little velvet box and bows his head so low I can see the back of his pale neck.

“Looks like he eats nails for breakfast.” That did it. She burst into laughter. I wasn’t doing much better. Nico remained perfectly serious. “And…” His fingers paused. “He doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose.” Elena leaned forward until her forehead rested against my shoulder as she laughed harder. I shook my head. “You enjoy this far too much.” “I do.” He nodded his head once. He never denied it. “He’s paying you for information on ghost. And you’re describing Ghost as…” she started to say.

Ventura was even more shocked when he saw him. "Here's some lemonade; drink it." Giovanni signaled as he pulled back the folder and opened it. "What the fuck is this?" he asked in disbelief as he dropped the folder. It seems that Mr. did not hear him. Ventura because of the weakness of his voice. I didn't look at him. I just sat in front and stared at Mr. Ventura. "You waste my time, Mr. George; you know I hate it so much." I bit my lower lip and sipped on the lemonade Giovanni gave me.

He slides his eyepatch off to rub his hands over his face. “Lenora and Justice can handle themselves. Especially against Randall and Basalt. Your reaction was overkill.” Ghost pushes forward. “And since when do you give a shit what happens to Justice, anyway? Everyone knows you hate her.” “I don’t need to answer down to you, Ghost.” He lets his hand drop to his chest. “Know your fucking role.” “Yes, you fucking-” A knock on the door and the smell of cinnamon rolls makes Ghost stop in his tracks and fall back.

He was not worthy of being called a man. If he could possess someone’s body, the first thing he would do would be to beat that bastard Lucien senseless. Watching the small girl continue to cry softly, the ghost raised his hand and placed it gently on her back in comfort. Then he mocked himself for being childish. He was only a ghost. How could she possibly feel his consolation? Yet Elowen truly felt a cool sensation against her back. She immediately straightened up and looked around. Seeing no one, she quietly thought that she must be having hallucinations again.