Misguided Ghosts Novels & Stories

"How much do you know about ghosts, Sam Holiday? You're the first man in decades not to run screaming from me. Usually, I spend my manifestation time hiding from the inhabitants of the house. You're the first one who hasn't been frightened." He shrugged. "I've seen a few. I know there are different kinds of hauntings. Some ghosts are really just...echoes, I guess, of some traumatic event. Those just repeat the same actions over and over, which rules you out since we're having a lucid conversation. Others are spirits who've chosen, for good or evil, to remain on this plane for some reason, whether it's protecting their descendants, guarding a sacred site or seeking revenge. Finally, there's t

I had a very confused look on my face so he proceeded to explain "We call them that now. The people that have the madness fever. They are called ghosts. Over the last few months since we got back from England, a few thousands of them have arised and even more are getting the fever as we speak. There is so much chaos going on up there, schools have shut down as well as work places. The leaders have had to call in all the help they can get and it still isn't helping. The facility was breached and the ones that had been there escaped. The ghosts all went off the radar, we have been unable to find out a location where they all are. Thousands of them and we can't get a location for them" he said.

"What are these things? They're like something out of a nightmare." Caleb's eyes glinted with determination as he stepped forward. "They're nothing we can't handle. Stay together and fight as one. We'll make it through this." And they did. The group worked together, their movements fluid and efficient as they battled the undead horde. Eventually, the last zombie had fallen, and they were able to continue on their journey. Their final obstacle came in the form of ghosts. As they approached their destination, they were suddenly surrounded by a group of ethereal beings, their faces twisted in anger and pain. The ghosts seemed to materialize out of thin air, their moans echoing through the night

“Doesn’t mean they belonged to slaves.” “No matter who they belonged to, how did they materialize in my medicine cabinet?” “That I can’t explain.” “I can,” Harold said, poking suspiciously at the cranberry quinoa salad as if worried that it might actually be mulch and rat feces. “You got yourself a ghost, Mr. Horror-meister. Just like our Melinda, only apparently a lot nastier.” Bias shot him a sharp look. “We don’t know what intentions the spirits in 324 have.”

The way he had in the basement library, when he was trying to decide if he could trust me. "Ghost doesn't take money," he said. "He doesn't take favors. He takes pieces of people. Memories. Secrets. Things you can't get back." "Then we make sure we don't give him anything we can't afford to lose." --- The number on Miriam's card connected after two rings. A voice answered. Not male. Not female. Something in between. Processed through a modulator, scrambled beyond recognition. "You reached the line," the voice said. "State your business."

He wasn’t summoning beasts. He was dragging the in-between into the now. Cracks tore open in the sky. The air turned sharp, cold, wrong. Ghosts spilled through the veil—wolves, twisted and lost, turned half-mad by unfinished lives. Not just spirits. These were memories that had forgotten they’d died. They surged toward me. I roared, driving my dagger into the ground. A ring of light exploded outward. The ghosts wailed, some vanishing instantly, others dragged back into their graves by unseen hands.

He replied, "How the ghost died and encountered the system is irrelevant. No matter how stupid it sounds, the ghost is already a half-host. For sure, it's looking for a vessel so it can complete its missions and then take revenge. The problem is, it is currently inside your friend's mind." If the people in the room were not immoral hosts, they might have lost their wits and calm at this point. It was probably a good thing for each of them that they had been dealing with things impossible to process through normal brains. They easily accepted the situation and understood its severity.

I screamed, voice breaking. "Even if I die, I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you! You'll die a horrible death!" Celeste clapped her hands with a smirk. "What a husband I have. So bold, even at the end. Then, go on... Die like a man." Just as the sand reached my chin, engines roared in the distance. Dozens of off-road vehicles surrounded us, lights cutting through the dust. Celeste froze, her voice trembling as she looked toward the woman stepping out of the lead car.

They were midway across the path, in front of a cemetery when suddenly graves started opening. "What is going on?" Isabella asked, clutching onto Chris tightly. Chris was suddenly sweating so furiously but Ariel was cool and her face was blank and devoid of any emotions. They stood there watching six tombs open and six scary-looking ghosts walked out. Isabella was already whitish in appearance knowing who they are. Chris's hairs were all up and his eyes green, his normal sight nature. "GREETINGS TO THE SPECIAL ONE." One of them muttered. "GREETINGS TO THE LITTLE GODDESS." Another muttered.

My hopes crashed down faster than a building. Positive? “I don't understand what's happening again, Mason. How exactly am I still being drugged?” I half yelled in frustration. Mason frowned, unable to answer. “I am confused too. You've spent your time eating meals from outside so…” I fell back into my swivel chair and shut my eyes. The longer this was taking, the faster I was losing my real identity. “Do I maybe have ghosts living around me?” I blurted out. “I know it sounds ridiculous but what if?” I turned to face him. “Just what if these perpetrators are ghosts? Because tell me how exactly I am still drugged when I have taken all drastic measures to ensure my intakes are appropriate?”