The Ghost Bride Novels & Stories

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.

Pardon me! The novel "The bride of the Ego's'' is undergoing re-editing to suit your taste. So don't wonder why some chapters are missing, I hope you understand, thank you. .Unknown point of view. The room was crowded with audience and journalists, the audience roared with all their might, each having a question to ask, not giving anyone a chance to respond. I could hardly recognize her anymore seeing how much she's grown in the last few years. She raised her hand high to silence the crowd, then she spoke. "I'm telling you that there is nothing supernatural, no such thing as ghosts or witches." Mirabel strongly protested.

Shade found her voice quiet familiar. He slowly lifted the veil only to gasp and step back as if he has seen a ghost. He even scared the bride “what the hell! You scared me” Grace said looking pissed

“It really does look like a bridal decoration.” Suddenly, three words crawl through my mind; “The Dancing Bride.” Why would the Ayutthaya mansion have an arched entryway in their dungeon? And an entryway fit for a bride? Who is this bride? Is she Bhyron’s dancing bride? Why are they so obsessed with a faceless bride? My brain is still conjuring scenarios when a strange sound suddenly pierces the air. I freeze. We both freeze. Zuri whispers something but I can barely hear her above the sound of my raging heartbeat;

My hair was also a simple bun at the back of my head, with a jewelled clip to hold my veil in place. The bridal gown was pure white and simple. The skirt was flowing with a slight train and the sleeves were lace. Although my father had objected to the ‘unconventional dress’ at first…but he had changed his mind at the last minute when my groom’s father, and by father’s good friend, Mr. Davis, had reminded him that this was the twenty first century and women dressing in lace sleeves was appropriate enough. And yet…Mr. Davis hadn’t thought that arranged marriages should’ve been left behind in the nineteenth century either.

The flowers were perfect. That was the only thing going right. I had been awake since four in the morning making sure that the roses with just enough blush to look romantic without being loud, greenery that didn't overpower, ribbon tied the way Vivienne had shown me three times on a YouTube video she'd sent at midnight. Everything was perfect. The bride just wasn't here. Her text came at 6:47 a.m. "I'm sorry, Aria. I can't do it. Don't hate me. Please don't hate me."

Her forehead wrinkled feeling the bitterness of the coffee which was actually not that bitter. She didn't like coffee, She only drank it so Loren wouldn't see clearly that she was smiling teasingly at Loren. "It was then that my mother summoned the shaman..." Loren responded seriously. “They performed an exorcism ritual. But the ghost was even more ferocious and made things fly and fall apart. They even got hurt by the broken glass.” Ria nodded. Until here the story was still the same as Kevin's. “It all just happened. The shaman said that the ghost didn't like anyone living in his house and told my mother to get out of there."

She stepped out of the crowd and stood at the pathway in the middle. He was surprised when he saw her, and for a moment, was scared that she might be a ghost. Everyone looked at the daring black girl in jeogori and chima, wondering where she found the guts to disrupt the ceremony; it must have certainly been from another world. " She is not your mate! And you know it!" she said, referring to him, making everyone gasp in shock as they transferred their attention to him. " Wha..............what the hell are you talking about", the bride shouted, fidgeting, her voice cracking, hardly heard, like someone caught stealing meat from the pot, " I am his mate, we felt the mating pull for each other".

​Vivienne was gone, but Maya was everywhere in the white roses on the ridge, in the safety of the walls, and in the heartbeat of the little girl who would grow up knowing only the mountains and the love of the people who had survived the dark to bring her here. ​The Ghost had finally stopped running. And in the silence of the Adirondacks, the Bride was finally at rest. ​THE END

The thought immediately brought another wave of nausea. The library at Blank Manor was full of the seven Elders of the Fell Pack—old men in suits with wrinkled hands and pocket watches tucked neatly into their waistcoats. They looked like relics from another century. I tried to keep my eyes on them, tried to appear like the Alpha they expected, but with the worst hangover of my life clawing through my skull, it was a losing battle.