Novels by ghost

“VV, DO YOU know where this is?” one of the butlers under VV’s command told him of the latest news.“This wretched place?” VV had never personally been there; but the countless stories about the butchery division of the old version of the company drove even him, a hitman who based his entire work ethic on Benedict Arnold: the world’s most hated traitor, to barf beaches.“I know where it is, but I haven’t been there yet. I heard only of stories.”He was in pursuit of a different brother and was growing restless, but something as reliable as this made his whimsical side come up to love the recent development. The added bonus of having to see Von’s expression, who he thought would be with him, after telling him of his wife barbecuing. He and his flunkeys rounded up the rest of them prancing around the city because of the treasure hunt to play one dodgeball. Only the dodgers this time would have no Sandy fi

WHEN CAINE READ the latest update from the one person the public deemed missing about another person misplaced by the eyes of the birdwatchers, something clicked in his mind. The old Warehouse G that he was apparently hiding had been cleaned, cleared and abandoned during the end of the underground wars that he commended Albert’s quick-thinking of using it as his hideout: he knew the place like the back of his hand, it has hidden secrets and it’s pretty expendable.“I hope their plan goes well,” Caine said while he walked out of the orphanage to his car. He trusted them enough that he thought that his help wouldn’t be needed anyway.And he was right­—about the plan part, the part about trust still had to be discovered by the flock cover in their shimmering plumage­—because the moment they read the news, they were already done with their chirps of briefing; they just had to improvise a few.The first one to leave w

DEATH; DEATH IS an enchantress. Whether you’re young or old; rich or poor; there will come a day when be ensnared by it and succumb to the grave, eventually. The love could’ve been looming over your cotton-soft heart since your birth, or an acquired intimacy for it one day while sat in the wool; for as long as one had as ever trod shoe-leather.Those were some of the thoughts Venin had the moment his country had been attacked by its neighbour with their tanks and their bombs; and their bombs and their guns. And as his head thought about how the world had always been a roundabout of chaos, like Thanos, he longed more and more for the approval of death.Before the hardships he went through, he never wanted to experience it first-hand; that’s why in his younger years, he strove for his passion—acting. But now that all those theatre masks, stage play and bongo drumming had been replac

EVER SINCE AUGUST came out of the room of deceitful contemptuous tête-à-têtes, there’d been some weird air discharging from his pores that caught Bright off-guard. It wasn’t an obvious one, because he still is the same person in the mannerisms in his actions and words and the entire personality, but there’s just something that he can’t locate even looking at the 88x94-foot map steady on his driving. He’s perspiring buckets when he asked again, “Sir, what happened there?” And like the 17 times he asked, 17 times there wasn’t any reply. That happened a few times before, so Bright didn’t really attribute that to anything rather other than him having found out some really critical information. Bright waited patiently minding his inaudible Ps and Qs to not overstep the mark secured by a portcullis guarding his Sherlockian mind palace. After a few moments more of Bright camping the premises, the hydraulic winches started releasing the drawbridge to what August was

THE BRICK BLOCKS withstood the trickle in heat as the room warmed up more from the summer reign over the two reconveners after their brief one-week recess of various tasks. Caine, upon losing his ship of an enforcer was grief-stricken for about 30 standard drinks, emerged a new monarch of his own devising where he concluded to himself that he—like a certain 1970 musical comedy—is the company. And as frightened as he was of dying without the fall of the empire that cost him a hundred people who worked side by side by side, he’s more frightened of letting them roam about while he sat on his chair, being alive. So, unusual for him it may be, he asked for help personally from a person capable enough to withstand the intensity of his words; but is also proficient enough that it won’t be a hindrance to his problem-solving. August, on the other end of the seat, had a less emotionally jarring week; but rather a pretty enervating one for his getting’ old eyes. Togethe

THE BUILDING WAS settling, but not more than Von; the doors were unhinged, but not more than Von; the woodworks were sapped, but not more than Von; the downfall of the warehouse was overtaxation, but so was Von’s. For as the wind whispered through the windows of their rustic solace, so did Albert’s story—though his ear to absorb the few one he found really easy to comprehend; like the Rihanna ft. Calvin Harris song story that he had with Margaret. Because even though he couldn’t find the strength and face to admit it, that experience they had was a mouse squeaker from probably one of the world’s most hopeless place. But what he can’t put twenty of his fingers on, was how did Caine “erase her memory” like erasing chalk from a blackboard. “It’s hard to comprehend, but it’s a higher for of hypnosis. I, myself can only do very little.” Albert also explained why the mind-wipe was important to the Baron’s reputation. “Marge knew so much, so Pierre just locked those