Soulless Ginger Novels & Stories

The loft is open as a thick glass railing that goes to the average person's hips. Ghost looks like a king overlooking his kingdom as he sits on the three person black leather couch with a black metal table in front of him. I can already see the variety of drugs on the table. I see his strange glass bong like contraption that he heats up with a mini blow torch to smoke the dark crystals. There are humans drugs there as well. Clearly, he’s mixing the deathly concoction as he packs the drugs in mini plastic baggies that you would get something small like a ring. Ghost is a dark fae, which means he’s greedy, likes death, and likes pretty women with spunk.

His area of expertise is lust, but he is flawed; occasionally he allows just a hint of the softer emotion of love. He rationalizes this by increasing the lust, and by the knowledge that the liaisons thus formed do not last very long. Most of them end in tears, and this keeps his supervisor looking the other way. Unhappy people make mistakes, many committing the more deadly sins. Ginger, as he has been nicknamed, is thus a very useful demon, with good results, and is working his way down the infernal ladder steadily. Ginger is so competent, as a matter of fact, so experienced and good at his job, that it was a thirty-day wonder all over Hell when he apparently fell victim to his own sin.

Broken glass glittered under the flickering streetlights, and the faint hum of electricity sounded strained, as though the city itself were holding its breath. Kael walked beside her, silent and alert, eyes scanning the streets with the precision of a predator. He occasionally gestured, pointing to minor disturbances—an alley wall warped unnaturally, a lamppost casting multiple shadows, a puddle rippling though the air was still. Each anomaly was a sign of the corrupted soul’s touch, a reminder that the battle was far from over.

Chris said with pride. “Well, darling, you’re going to have a wonderful evening tonight. I guarantee it,” She whispered in Josh’s ear and strutted away. “I highly doubt it,” Josh said after he was certain that she couldn’t hear him. Giselle walked to the back of the stage and as she turned the corner, she looked around to make sure no one could see her and her eyes glowed red. She collapsed on the floor as a dark fog began to seep out of her mouth. The fog took shape and slowly transformed into Gentel.

cute. When I arrived at her place, people were already starting to arrive. Colorful lights were flashing everywhere and loud party music was blasting. She told me she wanted to do a “Euphoria” inspired party. “Happy birthday, my soulmate!” I screamed when I saw her, she ran towards me and I gave her a tight hug! “Ugh, I love you my main bitch.” She said and lightly smacked my butt. I handed her the paper bag I was holding containing my gift for her. “What’s this? Thank you so much!”

Sometimes we love the ones that don't deserve our love at all. The Nepharious Gangster's Lethal Love - the painful saga of love and hurt.

He wasted no time weaving through the mass of spirits as he barreled across the charred ground to the mess house. Roy braved a look in Angel’s direction. Jackson was right. She was getting uncomfortably close and the spirits that had proven themselves lethal by tearing Harold into pieces only to become like zombies were acting a bit more animated. “Did ya make that change in the spirits? Is it yer magic that’s keeping them calm?”

Ginger's fingers and dimming of the hall made her eyes and mind go away from Ricky and his troubles, to focus on the screen. Her heart pounded as pictures of her modelling lingeries, cocktail, dinner, party dresses and professional wears, with her back or side to the camera were displayed on the screen. There were pictures of her long shapely spotless legs modelling foot wears and others, so many Ginger couldn't scroll down anymore.

She bends down rubbing her hand over the wet spot at Gemma’s door, and when her eyes go milky white she begins chanting in what I think is Latin as a scene is brought to life in front of our eyes. The image is of a frightened Gemma standing in the doorway holding a vase full of sunflowers that she’s about to drop, and I had hundreds of roses put in her room but no sunflowers so how they got there. The man in front of her is way over six feet tall and has on a black hoodie that is blocking most of his face from the angle I am at. When I try to move around to look at the ghostly characters more carefully I am horrified to realize that although Gemma’s face is completely visible whoever the per

I said, giving a quick glance back at the end of the long corridor. "You're so polite," Dawn laughed, giving me a small nudge, "and a goody-two-shoes." "Whatever," I laughed back, "it's better than being a blonde." "Are you calling me a stereotypical dumb blonde," Dawn's pitch lifted in mock astonishment. "Yeah, a little," I jeered. "Well you know what they say about gingers, right?" she continued coolly. "What do they say?" I asked, faking puzzlement. "Gingers have no soul," she burst out, doubling over and laughing obnoxiously. I giggled at her and patted her back.