Vengeful Ghosts Novels & Stories

Tony asked in confusion. Heather continued solemnly and said that regular ghosts were afraid of the sun, but since this ghost was extremely vengeful, it had already evolved into a demon. A demon was much more feared and powerful than a regular ghost. One of their powers was creating hallucinations. So, the "Mabel" that the neighbors had seen had simply been a hallucination that this demon had created for them. The purpose of this was to torture the victim they'd picked as revenge, eventually breaking the victim's spirit and making them go crazy.

I didn't want to spook Mateo and Suzanne, and since they couldn't see them, they would only think I was going mad. "We are the wraiths, the spirits of the dead whose lives were cut short. We bear a deep grudge and seek vengeance," the wraiths answered. "Vengeance against who?" I demanded. "Against those who took our lives unjustly, making us live as wraiths and harbor hate." "Why come to me then?" I inquired. "Because you have the power we need to unleash destruction on our enemies and their descendants. You will give us the vengeance we seek," they said firmly.

I whispered, my words slipping through the air like a sharp blade. Her face paled, and her hands trembled as the realization washed over her. Samantha, the ghost from our past, a specter we had long thought banished to the depths of forgotten memories. Yet here she was, resurfacing like a vengeful spirit, intent on wreaking havoc upon our fragile existence. I moved swiftly, my hands still feverishly gathering our belongings, tying up loose ends. It was a race against time, against the shadow that loomed ominously over us. I refused to let Samantha's malicious intent extinguish the fragile flame of hope that burned within our hearts.

For every scar left on her skin. Nathan didn’t believe in forgiveness. He believed in revenge.

“Why, Luna?” She grabbed my hand, squeezing hard, her gaze desperate. “I’m not replacing you, Martha. But if these are real ghosts, real spirits coming for me, I have to end them. I killed them once—I can do it again. It’s their fault for tormenting me! You’re dead! All of you—leave me alone!” She snapped the last words like a whip, her voice cracking. “Why won’t they let me be? Why do they keep coming back?”

His hands were shaking as they moved to cup my face, his thumbs digging into my cheeks with a frantic, sadistic desperation. "You're trying to kill us," he hissed, his breath hot against my lips. The "Blood Protocol" was flickering in his eyes like a dying candle, fighting against the raw, jagged terror of a man who was losing his only anchor. "You’re trying to burn it all down because you’re afraid of the ghost in my head. But the ghost is the only thing that knows how to keep you breathing!" "The ghost is the one who built the factory, Dante!" I clawed at his wrists, my heart a frantic bird against my ribs. "The ghost is the one who made Twelve versions of me! I won't be a variable in a de

His limp had worsened tonight, but he barely noticed. “He is,” he said coldly. “The man he used to be… that man died a long time ago.” She turned slowly to face him, eyes searching his for something solid to hold on to. “Then who’s doing this?” His gaze didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. “The ghost that never died.” Silence dropped between them again. He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t have to. She understood. This wasn’t just vengeance. It wasn’t even war. It was something older. Something that lived in the cracks between memory and pain. Something that had waited patiently in the dark, feeding on everything they thought they’d buried.

A simple exorcism would get rid of them. Vengeful spirits weren't intelligent. They could only follow people around while seeking vengeance, just like the old lady who could only repeat the same sentence. Frederick simply gave Steve astral vision so he could temporarily see ghosts and spirits. Upon seeing the vengeful spirit of the old lady he killed, Steve was horrified. The two thugs rushed forward to hold Steve up. They asked, "Boss, what's wrong?" It turned out that Steve was their leader. Steve was so scared he started hallucinating. Everyone looked like the old lady to him.

Andrea didn't answer and was thinking about what Diane said. She was afraid to listen to her heart's desire because it might bleed it again. She was already hurt when she found out about Bryan's mistress. Not only that, but she couldn't forgive Tasha for taking away her child's life, and that's the reason why she couldn't forgive Bryan. Every night, she was haunted by those nightmares where Tasha repeatedly stabbed her chest and her belly. Also, she was having nightmares about Tasha and Bryan's betrayal to her. When she woke up from those nightmares, she was filled with hatred and vengeance. But this morning, she didn't have nightmares, and was able to wake up in a good mood.

The Wicked Witch stood tall as she came to the ruined Village. She looked everywhere, raising her staff with closed eyes to listen to the wandering souls around. She prepared herself, for the good, the bad and the worst. A month had passed since the massacre happened to the Village. It had been quite a long time since Calleb marked the young woman named Accashia. A month is enough for a pure soul to be tainted. To be filled with fear, remorse and regret. For if the soul hasn’t been harvested by the ram within the time of death — the soul becomes a ghoul. Wicked. Spiteful. Dark.