When Jesus left the Earth, He left behind the Holy Spirit to comfort, help, and support all of the Earth and its inhabitants. To help in this process, there were millions of Holy Ghosts. They mostly stay in Heaven, but sometimes they come back to Earth to help humans. In the following pages, you will find details of their work. This story follows seven of the best.
I would like you to know a little about these seven ghosts. When they were on Earth and they were younger, they were like everyone else, just living life and enjoying their time on Earth. Now they live in heaven, but sometimes they come back to Earth to help the people with things they need help with. When they are here on Earth, they stay in a luxurious mansion on an island in the South Pacific.
You need to know a little more detail about the Ghosts — these unseen travelers who move between worlds. They travel back and forth to Heaven on small light particles called photons, tiny sparks of pure energy that race through space at the speed of light. When they are on Earth, they take the form they did the first time they were here as humans — the same familiar face, the same body, the same age they once carried during their earthly life.
But when they travel back to Heaven, they become tiny photons, weightless flickers of brilliance, and can be back at the sun — that massive burning star at the center of our solar system — in around eight minutes. Heaven is behind the sun, hidden beyond its blinding golden flames and radiant corona, unseen by telescopes or human eyes.
When the Ghosts are here on Earth as humans, walking the soil and breathing the air, they are mortal, just the same as all humans. Their skin can feel warmth and cold. Their hearts beat. They can be hurt. If they come up to talk to a human or interact with the people around them, you would think they’re just like everyone else — an ordinary stranger with ordinary features, standing under ordinary skies.
They do have one special power. They can appear invisible. In as much as if they don’t want you to see them, you will not be able to see them. They can stand beside you on a crowded sidewalk, sit near you in a quiet hospital room, or walk past you in a grocery store aisle, and your eyes will simply pass over them.
You are surrounded by these Ghosts every day, mostly invisible, moving quietly through busy streets, office buildings, playgrounds, and lonely country roads. You have also met some of them, as they have appeared in your life at times when you needed them most — during moments of fear, confusion, heartbreak, or danger.
You will remember them if you think back at the few times someone appeared out of nowhere — a stranger with calm eyes and steady hands — helped you with something important, and then disappeared as quickly as they came. And you never saw them again.
All the Ghosts have their own wings in the mansion — private living quarters filled with light, memory, and rest. The mansion itself is shaped like an octagon with eight equal sides. Seven sides are devoted to the Ghosts, one wing for each of them. The eighth side is a huge front section with a grand family room filled with comfortable seating and warm laughter, a large kitchen with long wooden tables and endless food, a playroom bright with joy, a wide patio that looks out over endless light, and both heated indoor and outdoor pools where the water glows softly under Heaven’s sky.
Nice.
Chapter One: Let me give you the backstories of your seven new best friends.
Billy was a good, kind-hearted kid. He went through high school and proudly graduated. Every now and then, he used drugs. He made a really good living by framing sturdy houses. Billy always said he loved the fresh, clean smell of a brand-new house. He had a long-term girlfriend, but she got seriously sick and went to heaven. Billy and his loving girlfriend got saved when she became ill. Billy never got married and gently told her he would see her in heaven later on.
Kathleen is Billy’s kind, caring sister. She was really good at school. She graduated, got married, had children, and ended up having a happy, fulfilling life. She met Jesus at a young age and truly loved helping people with anything they needed. She would gently care for sick people, babysit their young children, take care of their pets, and even cut their overgrown grass. I mean, she would do anything they needed her to do.
Tommy was the cool, confident kid. He never got caught doing anything bad. That doesn’t mean he didn’t do anything bad; he just didn’t get caught. He had a really close friend—she was so strikingly beautiful, like an actress. Her name was Lynn. You will meet her later on. She liked hanging around Tommy, so the other boys would leave her alone. Everyone in high school thought Tommy and Lynn were a couple. If you saw Tommy, you would say, “Where is Lynn?” If you saw Lynn, you would say, “Where is Tommy?” The truth is, Tommy had a really pretty girlfriend at another school. They got married later on. Tommy and his girlfriend met Jesus and had a really great, fulfilling life.
Gary was a good kid—one of those boys who learned early what hard work and honesty looked like. He grew up in a modern home his father had built with his own hands, sitting right in the middle of his grandfather’s wide, 80-acre farm of corn and cotton. The land stretched out in every direction, rows of green and gold moving with the wind like waves on an ocean.
Gary’s father had lost his leg in a motorcycle accident when Gary was just a baby. Most men might have slowed down after something like that—but not him. Ironically, he became a highly successful house painter. If your house stood three stories tall, that didn’t matter one bit. He would climb his long, extended ladder with steady determination, his artificial leg thumping against each rung, never once asking for help.
From a young age, Gary watched him closely and learned the lesson his father lived by: do good work, and charge a fair price.
That lesson stayed with Gary.
As he grew older, it carried him into a successful career of his own. He built a commercial tile business from the ground up, earning a strong reputation across Alabama. If you ever stopped to eat at a fast-food place like Burger King or Hardee’s somewhere in the state, there was a good chance Gary had laid the tile beneath your feet—clean, precise, and built to last.
When Gary was younger, he had a very pretty girlfriend—someone he cared about. But life got complicated when he met another girl, just as beautiful, and didn’t quite handle things the way he should have.
One day, he came home, opened the door—and stopped cold.
Both girls were sitting side by side on his couch, waiting for him.
Gary knew right then there was no escaping it. No clever words, no smooth talking. So he did the only honest thing he could think of—he walked over, sat right down between them, and prepared to take his medicine.
The yelling came fast and loud, filling the room with anger, hurt, and truth he couldn’t deny. And when it was finally over, both girls stood up, walked out the door, and disappeared from his life for good.
That moment stayed with him.
Years later, Gary found something deeper than success or relationships—he met Jesus. It changed him. He settled down, got married, and built a life rooted in faith and family. Together, he and his wife raised four little girls, filling their home with laughter, lessons, and love.
And in the end, Gary lived a good, steady, and meaningful life—just like the one his father had shown him how to build.
Lynn was a strikingly pretty girl, with soft blonde hair that caught the sunlight and bright blue eyes that seemed to notice everything, even when she said very little. She wasn’t shy—far from it—but she carried herself with a quiet calm that made people lean in when she finally spoke.
She and Tommy had always been close. The kind of friends who didn’t need to explain anything to each other. They were both raised in homes that looked a little different than most—Lynn by her hardworking mother, and Tommy by his much older brother and sister, who stepped in while their dad worked far away in Saudi Arabia for the airplane manufacturer Lockheed.
Even with all that, Lynn and Tommy were never anything more than friends. Not then, not now. Just steady, lifelong friendship.
Lynn found Jesus early in her life, and that faith became a quiet anchor for her. The summer Tommy left to stay with his dad overseas, though, was harder than she expected. Three months felt like a long time without her best friend. She didn’t like it—didn’t hide that either.
While Tommy was gone, Lynn met the man she would marry. She loved him deeply, but that didn’t mean she let Tommy off easy for leaving.
When it came time for the wedding, Lynn had already made up her mind.
“You’re my matron of honor,” she told him.
Tommy laughed. “Lynn, your matron of honor is supposed to be a girl.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “You will be my matron of honor.”
And that was that.
On the day of the wedding, Tommy stood beside her in a tux, smiling the whole time—because when it came to Lynn, that’s just how things worked.
Glenn was a good-looking guy with an easy kind of charm. He was fun to be around—no doubt about that—but he had a habit of taking things too far. If there was a line, Glenn didn’t just walk up to it—he pushed past it, just to see what would happen. And more often than not, he got caught.
He married his high school sweetheart, a beautiful girl who had been by his side through it all. For a while, life looked just right. But Glenn’s tendency to push limits followed him into adulthood. A few years into the marriage, he was caught cheating, and she left him.
Not long after that, he lost what could have been a great career with a startup tech company. Glenn had been secretly selling company information to a competitor. When it came to light, everything fell apart.
But Glenn’s story didn’t end there.
He eventually turned things around. He started his own company, built it into something successful, and somewhere along the way, he met Jesus. That changed everything. His life settled into something steady—something good.
When Glenn was younger, though, he was wild. He skipped school so often and ran away from home so many times that one day his father had finally had enough. In a burst of anger, his dad grabbed him and tossed him clean over the kitchen minibar into the living room. Glenn hit the couch hard—a moment he never forgot.
Years passed.
Time has a way of softening some things and sharpening others.
Glenn’s father, a lifelong atheist, was lying in a hospital bed, dying of cancer. His time was short. Glenn came to see him one last time—to say goodbye, to say the things that matter when there’s no more time left.
“I love you,” Glenn told him.
Then, gently, he tried to pray with him.
His father pushed him away. “Stop that,” he said. “That’s foolish.”
Glenn stepped back, but he didn’t leave. He looked his father straight in the eyes—really looked at him.
“I know you’re not as mean as you act,” Glenn said quietly. “You know even the devil believes in God. And what have you got to lose?” What have you got to lose?
His father said nothing.
“You’re dying,” Glenn continued. “They’re going to bury you. But what if you go to heaven instead? All you have to do is believe in Jesus. He was real. They wrote four books about Him.”
Something shifted.
Tears welled up in his father’s eyes.
Glenn leaned closer. “Just repeat after me.”
And this time… his father did.
“Hello, Jesus… I love You, and I want You to be my Savior. I know You died to save us from our sins, and I want to turn away from sin and follow You from this day forward.”
“Amen,” Glenn finished softly.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then his father started to cry again—but this time, it was different. A lightness came over him, and suddenly, he began to laugh.
Glenn smiled a little. “What’s so funny?”
His father shook his head, still smiling through tears. “You asked me what I had to lose,” he said. “I think I just got saved. I’ve seen other people do it… but I can’t believe how good I feel. I really think I’m saved.”
He paused, almost in wonder.
“I’m going to heaven.”
Glenn swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll look you up when I get there,” he said. “A long time from now.”
He reached out and squeezed his father’s hand.
“I love you, Dad.”
Rachel was the kind of woman people remembered. She was beautiful, genuinely kind, and the kind of friend who didn’t drift away over time. The friendships she made, she kept—years, even decades later.
She married, had children, and met Jesus early in her life. That faith gave her a steady center, but her personality? That was pure warmth and celebration. Rachel loved people, and more than anything, she loved bringing them together.
Her parties became legendary.
People didn’t just come to eat or dance—they came to meet each other. In fact, Rachel liked to joke that she was responsible for at least three marriages, all sparked at her gatherings.
One year, for her birthday, she decided to go all out.
By noon, her house was already alive with music. A DJ had set up a powerful sound system, blasting Van Halen and other crowd favorites that echoed through the neighborhood. But no one complained. They never did. The neighbors were used to Rachel’s parties—and more importantly, they were invited. Even the local police knew about them. Off-duty officers would often stop by, grab a plate, and stay awhile.
By early afternoon, around fifty guests had filled the yard.
Just down the street, Six Flags Over Georgia was open, but the steady, light rain had shut down all the rides. Families wandered the park disappointed, the day not turning out the way they’d hoped.
Then they heard it.
Music.
Loud, alive, impossible to miss.
Some thought it was a band inside the park, but when they followed the sound, it led them right out to Rachel’s street. One by one, then car by car, people pulled up, curious. And when they saw the party—tents set up, music playing, laughter spilling into the air—they didn’t hesitate.
They joined.
Rachel didn’t blink.
By 6 p.m., there were nearly a hundred people spread across her yard. Rain tapped gently on the rented canopies and tents she always had ready—sun or storm, Rachel was prepared.
She picked up her phone, calm as ever, and called her caterers. “We’re gonna need more food,” she said with a smile. “And drinks. And a few more tables and chairs.”
It wasn’t a problem.
Rachel came from a family that had done well—very well. Her grandfather had bought Alphabet Inc. stock long before most people even knew what it was. Money was never something she worried about.
And she didn’t hold onto it tightly, either.
Rachel believed in sharing—her home, her food, her music, her joy. By the time the night stretched into early morning, strangers had become friends, friends had become family, and Rachel stood in the middle of it all, exactly where she loved to be.
Let me take you back to the mansion and see what the ghosts are doing today. The dining staff had been up since before sunrise, filling the massive kitchen with the smell of fresh pancakes, sizzling bacon, and buttery eggs. The kitchen never closed—it stayed open 24 hours a day, ready for anyone who wandered in hungry. Around the mansion, nearly thirty volunteers kept everything running smoothly—lawn workers trimming the endless green fields, maids quietly tending to the rooms, butlers moving with calm efficiency, and others handling whatever the ghosts might need. Out front, the pilot of the little red airplane was already waiting. He always had a good story to tell, especially on the trips out to the airport. As the other ghosts came downstairs, Kathleen spotted Billy. “Check your messages from the home office,” she said. “You’ve got an assignment.” Billy looked up at her. “Come with me,” he said. Kathleen shook her head. “We’re supposed to go alone. If something comes up, the others need to be here.” Billy didn’t argue. He finished his breakfast, grabbed what he needed, and headed out. On his way past Gary, Billy grinned. “You want to go with me? We’re heading to New Orleans.” Gary’s eyes lit up. “Say less.” The two of them hurried out before Kathleen could notice.
They took off in the little red plane, the pilot talking the whole way, spinning one story after another as they flew toward Hawaii to catch a commercial flight to New Orleans. At the airport, waiting to board, Billy leaned over to Gary. “Man… look around. These women are beautiful.” Gary laughed. “Just wait till we get to New Orleans. There are some French girls there you’ve got to see.”
When they landed in New Orleans, Billy rented a Maserati sports car—low, sleek, and fast. They drove out toward the swamp, where they climbed into an airboat that would take them deeper into the thick, moss-covered wilderness—to a man named Jimba Smalls. He was Billy’s assignment. The home office had made it clear: make sure Jimba ends up at a Baptist church, where he’s supposed to meet Cindy Ferguson—his future wife.
As the airboat skimmed across the dark water, they passed slow-moving alligators and tangled trees dripping with moss. Then suddenly—a large snake dropped from the branches above and landed straight into the boat. Gary yelled. Billy slammed the controls and jumped to help. The snake—a thick, powerful python—wrapped itself around Gary’s leg, tightening with terrifying strength. “Watch his mouth!” Billy shouted. Gary, struggling, said, “They’re not poisonous… but I bet a mouth that big still hurts pretty bad!” Together, they wrestled it loose. With one final effort, they pried it off and threw it back into the swamp. Both of them stood there a moment, catching their breath. Then Billy said, “Alright… back to work.”
As they neared Jimba’s house, Billy explained his plan. “We’re going in dressed up,” he said. “I bought us suits. We’ll act like Mormons. Invite him to church.” Gary looked at him. “You brought Bibles too, didn’t you?” Billy smiled. “Of course I did.”
Jimba’s house came into view—a large, old-style plantation farmhouse with a double-wide mobile home built into the side of it. They walked up and knocked. The door swung open. Jimba stood there holding a shotgun. Billy and Gary immediately started praying. “Would you like to meet Jesus?” Billy asked. Jimba squinted at them. “No… but you might.” He raised the shotgun slightly. “You two better run on out of here… and I said run.” Gary swallowed hard. “We could do that… but we’re lost. We don’t know how to get back to town.” Jimba paused… then slowly lowered the shotgun. “We’re watching the Super Bowl at 6 p.m. After that, some of these boys might show you the way.”
Inside, the living room had been turned into a full setup—lawn chairs everywhere and a massive screen showing the pregame show. About fifteen people sat around, already locked in. They were running low on beer. Jimba called out, “Hey, Big! Go make a beer run—and get a keg this time!”
As Big left, Billy nudged Gary. “Let’s go.” They slipped outside and caught up with him. “We’ll give you a ride,” Billy said, pointing to the airboat. Big didn’t hesitate. “Done.” By truck, the trip would’ve taken ten miles. By airboat, it was just two—and a lot faster.
They made the run, grabbed the keg, and dropped Big back at the house. Then Billy and Gary headed off again. Billy laughed. “You know… my assignment is Jimba Smalls.” Gary grinned. “Which makes his brother… Big Smalls.” They both laughed as the airboat cut through the swamp.
On the way back, Gary started thinking out loud. “I’ve got an idea to get Jimba to that church.” Billy listened. Gary explained, “There’s a small substation that controls power for that town. I know exactly which parts to pull. We knock the electricity out for a few hours.” Billy nodded slowly. “Go on.” “Then we go to Home Depot,” Gary said, “get a portable gas generator, and bring it to the church. They’ll need it.” Billy smiled. “And Jimba shows up.” “Exactly.”
They moved fast. Gary handled the substation, pulling just enough to cut power without causing permanent damage. Then they drove to Home Depot, bought a generator, and headed straight to the church. The people there were grateful—more than grateful. They gladly accepted the generator as a donation. Gary set it up, connected everything, and showed them exactly how to start it while the power was out.
With the strong storms sweeping through Louisiana, the church members said the pastor would be overjoyed by their generous donation.
Gary and Billy headed back to Jimbo’s house. When they pulled up to the dock behind the place, both of them hesitated. They could already hear chaos inside—windows smashing, loud cussing, and the unmistakable sounds of a fight. Two guys were going at it on the back porch.
By the time things settled down, Gary discovered the cause of all the trouble: the Super Bowl. Everyone had hundreds of dollars riding on the game, but the power was out across the town. No electricity meant no game, and that meant tempers were boiling over.
Gary and Billy stepped in, calming everyone down. They explained that the church now had power, thanks to the donated generator. The preacher himself had said they’d be showing the game later that day in the main auditorium, right after the baptism ceremony—and yes, there was a big-screen TV.
That got everyone’s attention.
Jimbo, however, wasn’t buying it. He turned on Gary, his face tight with anger. “You’re lying,” he snapped. “That church ain’t got no generator.” Gary tried to explain about the donation, but Jimbo cut him off. “You’re a fool liar. Why would you give a generator to a church you don’t even go to?” Gary stayed calm. “The organization we work for donates things. We just deliver and set them up.”
Before anyone could argue further, the airboat outside roared to life. It wasn’t even fully steady on the water before half the people at Jimbo’s place jumped aboard. Jimbo started barking orders. “Some of you fools get in them other boats! Get them two skiffs out of the boathouse and follow us!” Then came his final command, loud and clear. “Get that beer keg out of that boat—we’re going to church, you idiot!” And with that, the small fleet of three boats tore across the swamp toward the church.
They arrived just as the regular service was ending. Parishioners flowed out into the breezeway and toward the large auditorium, where the baptisms—and the long-awaited football game—would take place. Inside, a line of people formed, slowly making their way toward the baptism tank set on the big stage.
The preacher stepped forward and spoke with passion. “There is mourning and sorrow for the devil today,” he said, “but happiness and joy in heaven. These good people standing before you are turning to Jesus to save their souls and begin their journey to heaven.”
From the front row, Jimbo barely heard a word. His attention was locked on someone in line—a girl. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She seemed to glow, like she carried light with her. He had to meet her. Her name was Cindy Ferguson.
Jimbo leaned over to his younger brother. “Give me your shirt.” Big shook his head. “This is my church shirt. My good one.” “You can have mine,” Jimbo said, already pulling off the stained, worn shirt he’d been wearing since last Sunday. Big recoiled. “I ain’t wearing that nasty thing.” Jimbo gave him a look. “You want this shirt… or the back of my hand?” Big was much larger than Jimbo—massive, really—but he handed over the shirt anyway. He never quite realized how big he actually was.
Dressed a little more appropriately, Jimbo stepped into the baptism line, easing past about ten people until he stood right behind Cindy. He “accidentally” bumped into her. “Excuse me,” he said politely. Cindy turned and smiled. “I remember you—from high school. You played football. I had the biggest crush on you, but I was just a ninth grader. You didn’t even know I existed.” Jimbo grinned. “If I did, I’d remember you.” She laughed softly. “Well, I look a little different now. Are you getting baptized?” “Oh yeah,” Jimbo said confidently. “Me and Jesus—we go way back.” She raised an eyebrow. “Do you still live in the villa shack?” “Nah,” he said. “My folks moved to Texas. I bought the double-wide and built a big house around it. We just use the shack for storage now.”
After they were both baptized, something shifted. The chaos, the storms, the fighting—it all faded away. Now there was only excitement—and the Super Bowl. They sat together, watching the game side by side. Jimbo’s team won.
With the money he collected, Jimbo took Cindy shopping the very next day. A new dress, new shoes—anything she wanted. He spent everything he had, then borrowed more from Big. Finally, Cindy stopped him gently. “You’re sweet,” she said, smiling. “But you don’t have to do all this. I already love you.” Jimbo’s eyes went wide. “Well… all right then.”
With Jimbo’s successful drywall business and Cindy working as a nurse, their future looked bright. They were married before long. Big stood as best man—though they had to sew two tuxedos together just to fit him.
Meanwhile, Gary and Billy were already on their way back, flying over the water in the little red airplane. Both of them sat back, satisfied. Job well done. Billy grinned. “I’m taking you every time,” he said. “You’re real handy with problems. Where’d you learn all that?” Gary shrugged. “Laid tile in commercial buildings. You hang around job sites long enough, you pick things up.” After a moment, he added, “You know Kathleen would never let us do trips together.”
But when they got back, Kathleen wasn’t mad at all. In fact, she surprised them. She said she’d already sent a memo upstairs, and the response was clear: anyone who needed to go could go on assignments. They didn’t have to work alone anymore.
Holy Ghosts 