Tophat Ghost Novels & Stories

Celeste said and Xayne stopped punching the bag. "Do I have your attention now?". "Are you serious, Celeste?". "I am, he had a cap covering his face and a hood over it, Geez his lips were captivating, I can't believe a ghost picked interest in me". Celeste said. "Did you say hood? Black hood, he's pretty tall". "Um how did you know?". "Damn! I'm not crazy after all, it's real, he's real ". Xayne whispered. .

I asked the ghost after her emotional moment with Mimi, and she pointed something at the 4r-size picture in my hold. “Look at this faint human figure here, like a shadow near you. It’s me, Syd. Look at that closely. It's red! And I am wearing red. See? It’s me! The camera caught me as a ghost!” She said excitedly, and I did see what she meant. “Woah!” I let out in amazement, looking at it, as it’s truly amazing. It’s her, indeed.

But it isn’t any of them that makes my breath catch in my throat. Seated directly opposite the empty chair meant for me is a figure cloaked entirely in tattered, midnight-black fabric. A hood covers his hair and obstructs his face, but I can see the chain that hangs around his neck. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t reach for the food or the wine in front of him. He just sits there like an ancient monument of death with a large wooden white stake pierced through his chest. The Ripper Ghost.

His chest barely rose with each breath, but his eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction. “You still do not understand,” he rasped. I turned toward him slowly. “Do not speak,” Ethan snarled. Jon Tulip coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. “This facility,” he said, voice ragged but clear enough to cut, “was never the headquarters.” The words hit harder than any blow. “What,” I said quietly. “It is a decoy,” he continued, a twisted grin pulling at his mouth. “A distraction. Something loud enough to draw heroes like you into one place.”

He was not worthy of being called a man. If he could possess someone’s body, the first thing he would do would be to beat that bastard Lucien senseless. Watching the small girl continue to cry softly, the ghost raised his hand and placed it gently on her back in comfort. Then he mocked himself for being childish. He was only a ghost. How could she possibly feel his consolation? Yet Elowen truly felt a cool sensation against her back. She immediately straightened up and looked around. Seeing no one, she quietly thought that she must be having hallucinations again.

After a while, Leslie stretched and yawned, feeling the weight of sleep. ​"Hey, I'm tired. Let’s go back, it’s really late," Leslie suggested. ​"You go ahead," Scarlett replied firmly. "I’ll head back later. I just want to stay a bit longer." ​Leslie looked at her with a mix of worry and resignation, but finally nodded and began walking back to camp. Scarlett was left alone by the lake, unaware that she was being watched from the other side of the water. ​Across the lake, Zafira and her sister Zahia—two gorgons, women with serpent tails instead of legs—hid in the shadows. Zafira, her serpentine body coiling around itself, watched Scarlett with a mix of surprise and overflowing rage.

They’re laughing about something, but I can feel it, Ghost’s stare on me is heavy and unrelenting. Ten minutes. That’s all it takes before Red smirks knowingly and leans in close. “It’s the dress,” she whispers, winking. I roll my eyes, but before I can answer, Ghost moves. One second I’m perched on the edge of the seat, the next I’m airborne. His arms scoop me up without warning, his grip solid like I weigh nothing at all. “Ghost!” I hiss, my hands instinctively grabbing his shoulders. He only grins at me, that wicked look in his eyes that always tells me he’s two steps ahead of my protests. “Red was right,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only I hear. “It’s the dress. It’s fucking da

His gaze swept the room, then locked on the other two who emerged from the darkness. Timmy and Aaron. Both armed. They wore only sweatpants, barefoot, and yet they looked far too dangerous to be just boys waking up in the middle of the night. Timmy had a furrowed brow, messy hair, and the pistol steady in his grip. Aaron, beside him, had an alert glint in his eyes, as if adrenaline had burned away any trace of sleep. And then, at the top of the stairs, Ghost appeared. Unlike the others, he wore a black shirt that seemed tailored to hug every one of his muscles. He held his gun with the same ease as holding a glass of water. His eyes were hard, metallic, scanning every detail of the scene.

He drummed his fingers on the table. “Ghost. No last name. Adopted by Christopher Blackwell as a child. No blood relatives listed. No history of lasting relationships.” Vladimir put special emphasis on that word before trailing off. “Greymount, you said you sensed something earlier?” “I have commitment issues.” Snatching the olive from my drink, Ghost placed it between his teeth. “My favorite food is pancakes and I last took a shit this morning. I’ve also been having this reoccurring dream lately—”

ZEPHYR’S POV “Yes, there are two of our ghosts who are not with us now.” “Do they have names?” I asked him. “N….” He paused, rethinking his reply again. Then he said. “We go by one name, Ghost. Any other name aside this, I am unaware of it. I know it seems undutiful for me to not have this simple information but sometimes our ghosts tend to break out of character and hence get themselves into scenarios that end up leaving them with souvenirs like names, tattoos, tags.”