The Ghost of You
- Reads 36
- Votes 4
- Parts 6
MatureOngoing1h 0m
Last published Thu, Nov 20, 2025
Brynnan
Have you ever felt like you know there is something out there in your destiny lying in wait for you to seize it? Something far greater than where you're at. That's me, standing with my feet in quicksand. Sinking slowly, knowing there's a way out but unsure of how exactly to get there and what lies on the other side.
Until him.
My Ghost.
A man I met for a brief moment in time. A man I know nothing about. A man who came in as quickly as he left. A ghost.
Arrow
When you think of assholes I'm what you picture in your head. The man your mothers warned you about. The man father's reach for the shotgun to chase away. Relationships aren't my thing. My family, my tattoo shop and my bike. Those are my things.
Until her.
My fucking Dare Devil.
A woman I met for the faintest of moments but hasn't left my damn head since. A woman I should stay away from. Someone who dances on the edge of innocence, ripe for the taking.
My Dare Devil.
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High School. A virtual hell to every pimple covered, greasy haired, knowledge loving kid who walks the halls of the institution. Only a very proud few manage to rise among the ranks to become "the cool kids," snagging the lucky fate of living the best years of their lives up through the twelfth grade. We'll just not tell them what happens after they graduate. In ten years, when the kid the football team swirlied is their boss, they'll realize that it probably would have been better to not be cool when they were teens. But that doesn't matter now. Why you ask? I'll tell you. My name is Bridge, which isn't short for Bridgette, if you were wondering. My parents were assholes when they were younger, I guess. It could have been worse; at least I'm not a piece of fruit or an airline. Unique names can kiss my little undead butt. Oh yeah, that. I'm also dead. No need to apologize—it's not your fault, unless you're the pile of crap who murdered me. If so, could you fill me in on what happened? I'd really like to know how my life ended. The last thing I remember is going out for a milkshake and then, poof! I was here. Where is here, you ask? If you ask any of the adults, it's Harrison's Preparatory Institution for the Gifted and Unknown. If you ask any of the students, it's Hell Hall. That's right, bitches; high school is now back in session.
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