My Wife Is A Ghost Exorciser Novels & Stories

Someone even grabbed my handlebars and shouted, "Mr. Quinn! Ms. Pearce waited six whole years for you. Isn't your reaction a bit cold? Are you rushing off because you feel guilty facing the ex-wife who paid off all your debts?" "Enough!" Shirley stepped forward, her eyes turning teary as she looked at me with that devoted expression, her voice trembling. "Marcus, I came to take you home." My knuckles turned white gripping the handlebars, veins bulging on the back of my hand. The other delivery drivers around us had all stopped working, whispering amongst themselves, their eyes full of envy and jealousy. "Marcus is always so quiet, but his ex-wife is actually that loaded." "She's not just an

“That was amazing. You looked like you were about to sprint for the hills. I had no idea you were freaked out by ghosts.” “I don’t believe in ghosts.” “Lies.” She poked me in the arm. “You’re probably wishing you had a rosary in your hand right now.” She wasn’t wrong, which meant I had no reply. My wife kept laughing the entire way back to the palace. She was laughing when we went to dinner that evening; I heard her laughing as she took a bath. She even opened the door to our adjoining chamber just to look at my face and begin cackling for the thousandth time.

If everything was normal, I would be planning my retirement scheme. I would be sitting on a balcony in my beach house in Malibu sipping mango juice while riding the waves with Victoria and the kids—only if wishes were horses. These days all I get is banishing demons, putting lost souls to rest, cleansing haunted houses, closing portals to hell and et cetre but I’m not complaining. This is my life now and it’s fucking great. I have a hot girlfriend who’s amazing in bed and she owns a bar, I drink whatever I want for free!, what more does a man need? One could say this is my retirement vacation. One I never would have gotten at Malibu. To hell with Malibu. Being an exorcist is fun ya know. Fuc

With that, Kiran abruptly opened the red bottle. “No, don’t!” Caleb’s voice, filled with anger and boundless pain, screamed as if his heart had been pierced. Whoosh! A red ghostly figure emerged from the bottle, transforming into a mist of blood and flying in all directions before vanishing. “That’s my wife Zara’s spirit,” cried a man kneeling on the ground, reaching out as if trying to grasp her. Kiran paused, surprised that the spirit had escaped without a chance for him to offer it peace. He quickly covered the bottle’s mouth with his hand, reciting incantations to calm the remaining spirits.

The spirit had dark aura emitting from it and it was going to possess Jasmine It was echthra, the spirit of hatred, it fed on humans evil thoughts "Oh no!! Echthra... Lucy's spirit has been bewitched" he muttered and quickly divided his spirit from his body He grabbed Lucy's hands and that moment, time stopped with only Lucy's spirit and his that was conscious "What do you think you are doing?" He asked and touch her forehead with his palm. He was performing some kind of exorcism on her and immediately she regained her senses "Who are you?" Lucy asked

This person is a very strong Exorcist, she can remove that dark spirit that controlling your friend. Will she need money? No, she doesn't. Mmmmm.....okay. With they both headed home. Little did they were being watched from the shadows by something unknown, something sinister, something with a pure evil aura was watching them from a distance.

“And you think a fifty year old man wouldn’t look at you the wrong way if you’re found wearing inappropriate clothing.” “I don’t see him at all. He visits, cuts grass, and leaves. Besides, I’ve always dressed like this for bed, even when my brother Cale and dad were around.” “I’m not your brother, Emily-Mae, nor your father.” “…the saints of all the angels, I command you to reveal yourself...” the scene on the Conjuring movie blared on the screen. The woman on the chair spewing blood on the white sheet while the investigators tried to exorcise her.

If it says Julia’s been running around on me, it’s probably telling the truth. “That fucking bitch!” I rage into the storm. My hands claw at the air in front of me, and I know that if she was standing before me right now, I’d squeeze the fucking life out of her. “Now, now,” the demon croons. “Let’s have a little patience. If you confront her like that, the fun will be over far too soon. The ghost took you over before in order to fuck your wife. Did you even know that?” “No,” I grind out. If Amos is trying to sooth me, it’s doing a terrible job. The thought of some asshole ghost possessing me and bending my wife over just adds fuel to the fire.

Shivers ran in her back when she realised she'd just married a ghost. Her husband was no ordinary human, but a phantom. His falsehood that he was hiding from the enemy, everything was running in her brain. She felt a grief in her heart and her breath began to become heavy. It was difficult for her to breathe. She squeezed her breast with her right hand and put her left hand on the window to hold on a little. She started inhaling deeply to fill her lungs. She realised how he made her feel about her having a mental illness. She was hating herself for believing in him and loving him in her heart.

My wife, she said. The woman I was supposed to marry was Cassia Rowe. I remembered that much. She had blonde hair, a sharp jaw, and a sharp mouth. Very photogenic. Not this quite dark-haired ghost walking around mailing herbs on my face and feeding me soup like we were in a done goddamn historical drama. I kept thinking… maybe Grandmother hired her. Some live-in nurse with good manners and a tragic past. But the moment she said wife, it was like something uncoiled in me.