Two.ghosts Lyrics Novels & Stories

Ghost is not the only thing in me that cracked. I am too.

" Wow! It doesn't seem like she can see ghosts hmm. Yes she can see ghosts but she doesn’t want to tell to other people about that. "But you can see ghost duh!” I said with full of sarcasm. "Yep. If it's a real ghost, and are you scared in ghosts? Opps.. you’re a ghoster remember?" And my crazy friend laughed as if she wasn't a ghoster too. "Wow am I the only ghoster here? You too" I muttered to her. "Hmm Aeshe whats the feeling of being ghosted?” she asked me out of nowhere. "Did you see the guys who cry when we are leaving them? And to see a guy crying with just a week of flirting with them it would have been a lot of pain that it caused them to cry like that." I said to her.

This is driving me crazy ~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~∆~ “He literally called me a ghost” I complain to Dan

“What do you mean?” “You lost everything that made you who you were,” I said. “You’re still here, but you’re not the same. That’s what ghosts are — people trying to remember how to live.” He stared at me for a long time, then smiled faintly. “And what about you?” “What about me?” “You talk like someone who’s seen ghosts too.” I met his eyes. “Maybe I was one.” For a moment, we just sat there, two broken pieces of different worlds, finding something that felt like peace between sips of coffee.

Blonde hair messy from the wind, eyes too pale for comfort, hands that could strum melodies or crush bones. “You ever… wonder what it’s like to live without ghosts?” he asked quietly, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the open window, letting mist curl over his fingers. “Ghosts are useful,” I replied. “They remind you who’s hunting you.” He chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Sometimes I think I’d like one that reminds me to laugh more. Or… maybe just one that isn’t a nightmare waiting to happen.”

A cold dread, sharper than the chill in the air, shot up from the soles of my feet. The patch of shadow in the corner began to writhe unnaturally, coalescing into a denser form. A human silhouette, darker than the darkness around it, slowly detached itself from the wall. It was tall and gaunt, its entire form wreathed in an impenetrable, smoky blackness. The air grew still and heavy, as if the room itself was holding its breath. Then, a voice, cold and utterly devoid of emotion, sounded not in my ears, but directly in my mind.

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.

He said while moving towards me , i started moving backwards because i didn't want him to get too close to me. "What do you want from me ?" I asked. "Wow nice question, i just want to replace you" he said and then he disappeared, i looked around but i didn't see him, i remembered that Mr Franklin said he was a ghost. "But why me?" I asked, although he was not visible but i knew he was around. "Because i am you" he said and appeared in my back. "I swear to God i will shut you off" i said in anger. "Are you crazy , you can't kill a ghost boy!" He yelled and laughed.

“Why did you make Steve say it? Where is he now?” “Dead and six feet below where he is supposed to be,” Ghost said. “He betrayed your love for him for two million dollars, love. You can’t trust humans, my love. They are not for us.” “You would never tell me what to do again!” Rhea cried. “I promise you.” “I just wanted to teach you a lesson,” Ghost said. “I wanted to show you how evil humans are. And that promise I made to you about releasing your mother on your sixteenth birthday, forget it.”

My whole body shakes while he keeps licking, dragging it out, drinking everything I give him. He doesn’t stop. “Not yet,” he says against my soaked skin. “I still have time to erase every ghost from your skin. Every touch of his. Every fucking memory.” His tongue returns. His fingers return. He works me with the relentless patience of someone who has waited a very long time for this. When the second orgasm hits, it’s stronger, more violent. I scream — a hoarse, desperate sound — and he laughs low, satisfied, almost cruel. “Good girl. That’s it. Come for me again. This greedy little cunt… look how she’s squeezing my fingers, begging for more.”