Romans & histoires Dancing Ghosts Haunted Mansion

The dinner plate was overturned and crashed onto the floor with a piercing noise. Patrick’s hands trembled uncontrollably, his phone nearly slipping from his grasp. He roared in fury, "What the hell are you talking about? What rental apartment? Are you messing with me? Do you have a death wish?"

Their hands are almost touching. A shiver ran down my spine. Some ghosts don’t need to haunt you. They just wait until you find them again. And tonight, I had.

The maid made a gesture of silence to another maid. I stood at the door, dumbfounded. What were they just talking about? Did Ragnar’s fifth mate also see a female ghost at night? Did the ghost also demand the ring? And she was so terrified that she passed away on the spot? So everything I saw the previous night was real. Was there really a ghost haunting the Nightfang family?

“Little ghost.” Next: Shatterpoint

By the time Richard arrived, the funeral was almost over. Everyone who had come to say goodbye was gone. Only I remained. I wanted a little more time with Chloe. She'd always been clingy. And she was afraid of the dark. "Richard, see? I told you Selena was lying. If this were really a funeral, why is nobody here? This is obviously another stunt to get you to come home." Grace's voice cut through the silence. Richard's face darkened.

In an abandoned warehouse, my mother was tied up in the middle of the open floor, her body covered in bloody slash marks. She looked up at the woman before her, her face twisted in pain. "Adeline... I'm your mother-in-law. How could you do this to me?" Adeline Malone paused mid-motion while touching up her makeup. A cold smirk curved her red lips, her beautiful face dripping with contempt. "Then tell your selfish son to crawl out of hiding. Do that, and I'll let the rest of you go."

Date = 21 January A really really long fucking day. Place = San Francisco (Haunted house) POV - Damion They brought me here. To the haunted house. To Mel. Brick gives me the smallest wink before slamming the van door shut — a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of alliance. Then the van pulls away. And I’m standing between the two new escorts I’ve been handed over to. They look like someone tried to clone Homer Simpson but ran out of intelligence halfway through. Same doughy faces. Same vacant eyes. Just with more tattoos and worse hygiene.

Of her heart continued walking through its alarming frantic beating, she might discover herself suddenly dead from a heart attack. " My name is Zach and my memories are foggy, that is the only thing I can remember about myself. " the ghost replied " What are you doing here. " Maisie asked " I don't know. One minute I was seating in a food court the next I was here. " the ghost shrugged as he settled down back on the couch which he got up from when the owner of the house he was staying in shouted that he should show himself. She straightens as she continues her questioning. " what are you. "

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.