Why Does Ghost Call Soap Johnny Novels & Stories

There’s too much noise in my head, too much I haven’t processed. One question keeps digging its way to the surface, one I already know the answer to but need to hear again. I look at Ghost, my voice quiet but firm. “What happened to Giovanni?” Ghost doesn’t even blink. “I already told you,” he says. “I killed him.” The words should feel like relief, but they don’t. I stare at him, waiting, because I know there’s more. The way he shifts slightly, the way his fingers twitch against his arm where they’re crossed—he’s holding something back.

As he stepped toward the phone and inserted the correct coinage, he glanced over his shoulder to see Giovani standing impatiently in the doorway. "I don't know if we have time for that right now," Giovani admitted, stepping back toward Jack. Jack was already dialing, not paying too much attention to Giovani. "Let me just see if she is still in town and if she wants to meet me somewhere. Maybe she'll go with us." "Jack, she thinks you are dead," Giovani reminded him, as the distinct sound of a ringing phone came over the receiver. "I'll handle it," Jack said, as if he came back from the dead every day.

At last, the 27-year-old John now knew how I'd suddenly found him. "Where is Cecilia now? Just what did she do?" the 32-year-old John fumed while pointing at the cement wall behind him. "Why am I living in this shabby dump now? And why am I dressed in such cheap clothing? It's so poor quality that my neck is starting to itch!" But the 27-year-old John had no idea what his older self was talking about. "I don't know where she is, but…" His face was ghostly pale as he held up the medical examination report I'd left at the cemetery.

Those eyes lifted and locked on mime and the glass instantly stopped moving. “The dead has no business with the living, Riven Cole,” he said, voice low enough that only I heard the tremor under it. “We don't tend to corpses here.” I crossed the distance, my boots leaving wet prints on sawdust, then I placed my hands on the counter and said in a low voice, “Then pour one for a ghost.” The room seemed to respond to my words like they heard me, a hush spreading round. I heard a chair scraping the ground and seconds later, someone in the back muttered “traitor”.

Carmoria. When the plane landed, I turned my phone back on. Messages poured in— all about Sonia. Of course. She lived for attention. That's why she made me propose a hundred times. Every rejection, every scene—perfect gossip bait. And I was the punchline. The headlines wouldn't stop: [Shocking! Sonia Quindt left waiting outside the County Clerk's Office—stood up?] [Sonia Quindt's mystery fiancé disappears—Borevia City in chaos!]

Waiting. “I never wanted this for you, John,” the voice broke the heavy silence soft, yet laced with an unbearable weight. John swallowed hard. “Why now? Why show yourself after all these years?” The ghost’s form flickered as if struggling against some unseen force. “Because the blood moon demands the truth... and the sacrifice.” Sarah’s grip tightened. “We’ll face it together.” John nodded, but inside, the storm of doubt raged, the prophecy, the sacrifices, the monsters in Black Hollow it was all collapsing into a painful clarity. His father’s death, the dark past they’d tried to bury, was more tangled than he ever imagined.

"I heard the livestream about finding Ben on the way here. Even after everything he's put you through, you still did all that. You've done more than enough." I nodded, the lump in my throat too big to speak. A faint wave of relief washed over me—I'd made it through this time. Johnny made his way to the morgue to see Eleanor. The second the white sheet was pulled back, his knees buckled, and he hit the floor like a man who'd lost everything. "Honey, why couldn't you wait for me? Why couldn't you see me one last time?" His grief twisted into anger as he spat, "And that ungrateful son of yours—he's the one who killed you!"

The dirt-digging wizards never reveal his trick. “She didn’t die in a boat accident; she died in an accident in a boat. Asphyxia by strangulation.” His eyes were laser-focused on the road. “Call Rain.” I dialed Rain’s number on his phone and put it on speaker. “Hey, big boy,” Rain’s sultry voice emitted from his phone. I cringe, but Ghost didn’t seem bothered by that pet name. “You’re on speaker, babe. We are gonna visit Benny’s therapist.” “Ah, bonjour, lover boy,” Rain teased.

She wished not to see the same dream again. "A nightmare on the second night of your stay in your new home? A female ghost? But, was she violent in your dream? Had she tried to hurt you?" Marvina bombarded her with questions. "She didn’t hurt me,” Jennet looked at her hand. She still could feel the cold sensation of the pale hand that grabbed it last night. Did she felt the sensation of a ghost holding her hand? “I jerked awake when she grabbed my hand because I was trying to flick her hair from me.” She continued while inhaling deeply.

Apollo murmured, his voice thick with satisfation. Atlas leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. "The debt’s not paid yet, Love. We're just getting started. Who do you want next?" Just as those words left his mouth my phone started ringing. Gunn's name flashed on the screen. I carefully sat upright, grabbing the phone before they could stop me. I answered the call, rolling over to the other side of the bed. "Ghost wants us to meet him at the office. Do you want me to come pick you up?" Gunn asked.