Novel & Cerita Took: A Ghost Story

She leered and asked, “The Ghost we summoned, introduce thyself.” “I am the Ghost of Michigan. Dead for 17000 years. I was waiting for a powerful individual to call me for years, and today, you did the impossible. You woke me up. Tell me what you ask, and I shall grant you the answer, plan and the lead,” a voice chorused from the walls of the room. It was heavy, filled with menace. “How should I kill the demon who killed my brother?” “By taking over the body that’s in front of you. I shall give you the power to roast and toast the monster in him,” the ghost answered. It mastered the body swap.

Tyler uses his telepathy with Kyra. “Grim reaper.” The grim reaper turned, and everyone looked at Tyler. “Why?” Tyler asked. “Nothing.” Said Cael. They wondered why the grim reaper turned to Tyler, even though Tyler couldn’t see it. A grim reaper raised its scythe and, like a magnet, absorbed the ghost. The ghost fights hard so it will not be drunk by the invisible force. A grim reaper moved its scythe again and dropped its tip to the floor, making a strange sound. The ghost did nothing, so the scythe completely sucked it, and the grim reaper waved its hand, and the portal opened.

Olivia was about to ask the deity when a powerful suction blocked her voice and pulled her into an endless black hole. At the same time, the 9th space began to be like a broken glass gradually cracked… The space changed rapidly after then… Another light appeared and vanished the whole 9th space. There was nothing left. Only a small, gentle light remained.

She was totally not fine. She set the empty tumbler on the coffee table with a little too much force. “I need another drink,” she said flatly. Ghost didn’t argue, didn’t hesitate, “Okay,” he murmured, already moving toward the kitchen like she’d asked for a glass of water instead of emotional triage in liquid form. Heat flickered again, low and coiling and deeply inconvenient, and Ember dug her fingers into the blanket, silently willing her own biology to take a lap. Ghost returned a moment later with another overly generous pour of scotch, the twist of citrus curling over the rim like he’d added it without thinking. Of course he had.

he answers in a bored tone, like I should’ve known this already. Like he had already told me about it, and I chose to forget. Like he didn’t just let me get thrown into a literal survival test without any information whatsoever. But in the midst of my guide-loathing, something he said strikes me. “What do you mean “including the literal ones”?” Allison throws me a crazy look, but thankfully, doesn't say anything. “What do you think I mean?” Are ghosts supposed to be sarcastic and rude? “I am not a ghost.” He grimaces. “Calling me that would reduce my existence to the form of a mere soul. I have never been a mortal.”

“Then maybe that’s your answer.” Later that night, Ryan stood by his window. The streetlights blurred in the distance. His inbox pinged again a reply from L. Tansey, offering a call. He didn’t answer yet. Instead, he opened a blank page. And he typed: “A Story That Doesn’t Belong To You” by Ryan Calloway He stared at the title for a long moment. Then under it, he wrote: “This isn’t a story about revenge. It’s about reclaiming.” Two weeks later.

My 'disputed' abilities were all post-college employment, thank you very much. Did the ghosts possess me/tell me to do things? I was not possessed and, discounting sexual bondage and my current work venue, had never been possessed. From my limited exposure, ghosts wanted to not be alone in the afterlife – to be guided to a final resting place with others of their kind/family/friends. None had taught me languages, asked me to steal something, or kill anyone.

A tray of luxury I didn’t ask for. I stepped forward, snatched the dress, and turned to the maid. “Tell Elijah…” I paused, cracking a grin. “…the Ghost Knife doesn’t go anywhere without her blades.” ---

Just poured himself a coffee, black and bitter, and leaned against the counter like the weight of the building could hold him steady. Ghost appeared like he always did, silent and sudden, leaning in the doorway with a cigarette burning low. His pale eyes cut across the room, landing on Rhett, steady and unblinking. “You didn’t sleep,” Ghost said. Not a question. A fact. Rhett took a swallow of coffee that burned all the way down. “Didn’t need to.”