Tophat Ghost Novels & Stories

With a click, the clasp came undone, and the pendant fell to the floor. In a flash, Zoe’s eyes widened. She grabbed my collar like a madwoman. “Y-You… You didn’t switch fates? You lied to me?!” I looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” Miles suddenly exclaimed, “Ow, Maisie. My neck feels itchy.” He pulled down his collar, exposing his collarbone, and clearly revealed who was actually wearing the demonic fate-swapping lock.

He stood straight with a serious face as he began his explanation. "Ghosts are the souls of dead humans who... well, aren't ready to rest in peace. They don't have powers. All they can do is move from one place to another without being seen. Well, not by everyone though." "But... if you're a demon, why then are you in this form?" She couldn't help but ask.

“There he is.” “Son of a bitch. There he is. Right there,” the captain shook his head in disbelief. “Give me a name.” “Denis. Denis Ratcliffe.” The name hung in the air between them, like a two-ton brick. After all this time, Ghost had a name. Now the hunter, could become the hunted. “Holy shit,” the captain fell back into his chair. All the air left his lungs. “That punk? That punk is Ghost?” “You know him?” Will’s eyes almost fell from his head.

Tasha was devastated about the reality of her being a ghost. She thought she was dead, she had dreams. Even if she acted like a slut whose only interests were parties and getting boys hard for fun. She wanted to be a doctor, just to save lives. But everything was never gonna happen for her, and she thought everything had ended for her.

His words began to slur, spilling out in a messy, confused rush. “There… there was a man. In Halton. Right after we moved to the glass house.” He took another gulp, the whiskey burning a path down his throat. “He was called… the Ghost. He wanted to kill us. Zhedya… he took care of it. He killed him, right in front of me. I didn’t want him to though but he was behind my memory loss then so…” Miller’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on his neck. “The Ghost? Do you know his real name?”

Then the rider lifted both hands. Not in surrender. With caution. Like someone approaching a wounded animal. Their voice came out distorted through a modulator. “Ghost,” they said softly. Everything inside me stilled. Only three people ever called me that. One was dead—Saint. One should’ve been dead—Shade. And the third… The third was an ally long buried in the dark. A ghost from my old life. The rider reached up and slowly—very slowly—removed their helmet. My breath caught.

"Look what crawled out of the drain." Three men stepped into the light. They wore oversized hoodies and tactical vests scavenged from the raid. In the center stood Ghost. He was thinner than I remembered. A jagged scar ran from his ear to his jaw—a gift from the last turf war I’d led before I disappeared. "Ghost," I said. I didn't lower the pipe. "Don't 'Ghost' me, you golden-eyed prick." He spat a glob of phlegm onto the concrete. He raised a heavy-duty revolver. "Except your eyes aren't gold anymore, are they? You look... ordinary. Like the rest of us rats."

"Ehm, I'm about to uhm, you know, take a bath and stuff. Being a descent uhh ghost *clears throat*..." His blue eyes were focused on her and nothing else, revealing no emotion or thought whatsoever and his mouth remained mute. Is he still mad at me? In the end, that bath was the shortest one of her life. Geneva came out once again but now with a face deeply highlighted to look like an ebony queen and nails polished nude. She was covered from head to toe in her white lolita wedding gown. A wide hat sat atop her head as a veil covered her face. Her feet were in heels, her fingers in gloves, no skin was left available to the ghost!

We tried to take him down on multiple occasions, but we suffered severe casualties as he's just that powerful. "East City…" Frank mused to himself. "Could it be the one you call Ghost, whom you've mentioned before?" "It's none other than him. I understand that your strength is weakened outside Shagan, but—" "Nobody moves!" Before Frank and Jouri could finish, a group of thugs wearing blood-red ghost masks and with their hair dyed in a variety of colors, kicked open the cafe door. "Everyone, on your knees! Hand over all your money!" "No! It's The Ghosters!"

We exchanged glances for a second, but I was quick to avert my gaze and I didn't even know why. They've got tattoos on their faces and arms down to their shoulders. It was in the middle of the road, the sides surrounded by a lake. The one with a bird tattoo stepped forward, his smirk wider than the rest. “Look who we have here. It's Ghost” he laughed. “The soulless dead man who is here to haunt us today. Oh, I'm getting scared” another said. They laughed, and I let them hold their peace before they ended up in misery.