Misguided Ghosts Novels & Stories

Leah lunged forward. “Stop! Don’t touch him! He’s still here, I know he is!” “Ma’am,” the doctor said gently, “his heart stopped. There’s nothing left we can do.” Ghost suddenly stepped forward. His voice was low, rough, but steady. “You’re wrong.” The doctor blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” Ghost snapped. “You’re wrong. He’s not gone.” “Son,” another doctor started, his voice soft, “I know this is hard, but—”

I rolled my eyes at him, and he laughed. “Back when we played truth or dare, you said you’ve seen ghosts that know me.” “A ghost,” He corrected, “Just one. And no, I will not tell you who they are or what they had to say.” “But—” His eyes flicked up, meeting my own. “The dead rarely make sense. Most of the time they’re confused, reliving the days leading up to their deaths. Theres a reason we’re cut off from them. I’m just the unfortunate exception.”

“You have just woken up. You should not strain yourself thinking too much. Please rest. I will inform Mr. Oliver right away.” Adrian stopped trying to think. He closed his eyes and sank back into a deep sleep. In his haze, whispers flooded his mind. “I am all alone now. No one loves me anymore. Please, do not leave me.” “Can I give you my lifespan?” “I want to see you.” “Ms. Ghost, please save me…” “Can you take me with you to heaven? Living hurts so much… sob…” Who was she? Why did my heart ache so badly when I saw her cry? And who was Ms. Ghost to her?

Tasha was devastated about the reality of her being a ghost. She thought she was dead, she had dreams. Even if she acted like a slut whose only interests were parties and getting boys hard for fun. She wanted to be a doctor, just to save lives. But everything was never gonna happen for her, and she thought everything had ended for her.

The sympathy that had filled the room disappeared. Now people looked at Richard with suspicion. Disgust. Unease. "No..." Richard's eyes turned red. "No. Selena... you're joking, right?" His voice cracked. "That's impossible. Chloe can't be dead. "Please. Listen to me. It's not what you think." For the first time, there was something in his eyes I had never seen before. Desperation. And regret.

Rick POV I'm closer to this cave with every heartbeat. The Seer's hideout is not something I should take lightly. She's guiding me, but still, I'm tested in this fog. I was never afraid of anything. At least, not anymore. But this fog gives me chills to the bone. My senses are not working here, only my instincts. You know the feeling, you're trapped inside a room, 'cause the lock is not opening and you start to feel overwhelmed? Now, this is a feeling I am not comfortable with.

“You don’t have to.” “Let’s just go,” Adrian groaned, already heading for the door. “Yeah,” I said. “Let’s.” Echo sighed dramatically. “Fine.” We stepped into the night, the three of us walking down the dim street, eyes scanning shadows for dead bodies like it was a casual grocery run. “This is so weird,” Adrian mumbled. “Where do we even go?” “Nowhere in particular,” Echo said softly. “We just… look.” I stayed quiet, my mind buzzing, not with guilt or fear… but with how insane this whole mission sounded. Dead bodies. Possession. Ghost friends.

"Is this kid clueless?!" The old man's tone was raised, and he was afraid of others hearing: "Little girl, this is serious. He didn't register at Ghost Escort, he will be fined if caught!" Some departed spirits, usually find it hard to accept that they have already died. For the past seven days, I really tried everything to get back into my own body. Some people, seeing that they can't go back, just crash into others, hoping to see if they can start over.

“I’m not starting, Ghost. Just… clarifying. I’d hate for you to make a mistake.” A commotion at the back of the room drew their attention. A group of brothers burst through the doorway, dusted in grime, eyes wide with panic. Ghost recognized them immediately—two had been on a run that had gone sideways, the result of misinformation, of faulty intel. They skidded to a stop, chests heaving, voices trembling. “It’s bad,” one of them panted. “We walked into a trap. Several of the guys, they didn’t make it.”

My spiritual sight was honing itself, allowing me to perceive the reflections of souls—both living and dead—even as the material world remained a shroud of darkness and red mist. The ghosts surged forward, emboldened by their hunger, attempting to possess Malachi as they had tried with me. He snarled a warning, but they did not falter. Then, his hand moved in a blur, his fist punching directly through the leading three spirits. They recoiled instantly, stunned. The apparitions behind them collided with the wounded ones in a tangle of spectral limbs. It was a perplexing sight; a mortal’s fist should have passed through them like smoke.