ผี Novels & Stories

As I drift into unconsciousness I start a chant of protection against demons *Whether thou art a ghost that hath come from the earth, or a phantom of night that hath no couch… or one that lieth dead in the desert… or a ghost unburied… or a hag-demon, or a ghoul, or a robber-sprite, or a weeping woman that hath died with a babe at the breast… Whatever thou be until thou art removed, until thou departest from the body of the man, thou shalt have no water to drink. Thou shalt not stretch forth thy hand… Into the house enter thou not. Through the fence break thou not...*

“Sorry to let you down, but nothing to report. No cold spots, no mysterious noises, no shadowy figures. Just Phantom.” “Phantom?” “That’s what I’m calling the cat.” “Well, I wouldn’t get too comfortable in the house just yet. Maybe the entities need some time to get geared up after being dormant for so long.” Tilting his head, Brad scrutinized his young lunch companion, again trying to figure the man out. “You completely believe in all that stuff, don’t you?” “Absolutely. In fact, I have a ghost in my apartment.” “Is that so?” “Yup, a slave girl named Melinda.”

"But -" "Lillith, listen to me. Would you have found him if he’d been Taken?" She nodded, wiping her wet cheek on her knee. Nick being Taken, becoming one of the countless people that had stepped too close to a dark corner and become, for lack of a better word, possessed by a shade, was our biggest fear. When they took hold of your body they forced you from it, sending your wandering soul to the other world whilst they used your flesh to fight the rest of us in the light of day. It was these faces that Lillith searched, trying to find our brother.

Herne's voice rumbled and caused chills to run down his spine, “Now if you'll avoid Self-doubt for a few moments, I'll show you one of the first things my master taught me.” Emboldened by the hunter's words, Warren leaned forward and gestured for Herne to proceed. Herne cracked a grin, “There's a good lad,” He said with a smile. He drew a strange symbol on the ground with a stick and pointed at it. “What I am about to show you is a spell called a phantom trail, or rian taibhse, in the old language.” “What does it do?” Warren asked. “The spell tracks the spiritual vapors of living beings, and creates a ghostly image of our quarry to follow, if not our quarry, then our imprisoned friends.”

The smell of petrol and coal tar filled their nostrils they looked at each other in silence with the effect of the alcohol washing off immediately. "What was that?" Jason whispered. "Sean is that an animal?... Oh please tell me it's not a human being" he cried. They carefully stepped off the car and moved to the front. Once they saw the twisted human figure lying lifelessly on the ground in a pool of blood Jason froze... "Jason let's go! Now!!!.." Sean hollered but Jason stood not moving an inch. "Hey ... Hey! Look let's get out of here before people see this, it was a mistake!!"

The possessive way he fucked me like he both hated and needed me. I forced a grin. “You’re crazy, man. You watch too many movies.” He stepped aside but whispered as I passed, “Run while you still can. He’ll ruin you.” Later that day, I overheard two employees gossiping near the cafeteria. “Did you hear about The Ghost? Some billionaire who shows up masked at underground parties. Pays good money, fucks like a demon, then vanishes. Nobody ever sees his face.” I laughed it off again. But deep inside of me, i was worried for myself.

He called him again. "Yes pup". "You said your mother had super natural powers. Do you have too"? He asked the question that was clicking in his mind. "Well we all have. For instance Enzo can cast a spell. Saint, can put someone to sleep. Max can read minds. He knows what’s going on in other people's minds. Zee is a calamative. Like if you are panicking or upset, just look at him and you will feel at ease". He told him.

I tiptoed around, hoping to surprise him, but he really wasn't around. I sat on the living room couch, noticing that he had left some papers behind. I picked up one of the many that were there, with a slightly curious name, “Banshee.” I observed the drawing on the page: a woman in a long dress appeared to be crying. I glanced at the transcription next to the drawing. “Banshee or Ben sidhe, the one who can see death, becomes her friend. Her scream can be heard for miles, and it's so powerful that it can easily shatter a skull. Due to her dark powers, the banshee can be easily hated by other creatures.”

Someone impossible. A ghost. Angelica.