Happy Halloween

Psamtik's Mother--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The work done for the day, Matwa went to Psamtik, the pharaoh-to-be’s quarters. The wretch’s mother had called him. Psamtik was asleep in his mother’s arms. He slept naked and his mother looked fondly at his skinny, angular body. His shiny shaved head showed off many bumps and irregularities. He had had an erection in his sleep and she stroked it down gently. Matwa stood a while and finally cleared his throat, causing Psamtik to stir and grit his teeth, making an awful grinding sound. The woman looked up and smiled proudly as she slipped out of the bed.

“Matwa, how are the arrangements for his ascension progressing? I feel that the priesthood is not very enthusiastic about my son’s coronation, and I want to know that the army will be loyal.” She paced silently. “At least we have you, Matwa. I’m sure you can control the other priests.”
Matwa nodded, “Yes Your Grace, I will do my best. Every thing is going as planned.”

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-sorcerers-secret-5/

{WARNING} Contains scenes of extreme violence that may be offensive to some readers. Fire—dreams of Fire—visions of Fire. Where do they come from? Aryazate doesn’t know why, but he fears the power secretly growing in him. Am I a demon, or a sorcerer? Kavada, the blacksmith, seems to be the only one he can trust, but even he doesn’t know the extent of Aryazate’s secrets. What would he say if he found out that the beautiful maiden Aryazate, is really a young man forced by circumstances to conceal this truth, which day by day becomes more evident? Just when he thinks Kavada is ready to hear the truth, Aryazate’s worst nightmares become reality. The Head-Mage Monushir accuses him of sorcery and has him imprisoned. What will this trial reveal? Is the truth so horrible that Aryazate will welcome torture and death by fire—by the same fire that haunts his dreams?

Psamtik the Scarecrow--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Psamtik sat on the minor throne he had occupied before the death of his father, the Pharaoh. His scrawny shoulders shook with indignation as the priests explained to him for the tenth time that he had to wait for the ceremony before he could ascend the pharaoh’s throne. His face was thin and his nose hawkish. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his lips were so thin that his steward had to paint them to make them more visible.

Matwa watched Ankhare as he looked at the young man in disgust. Matwa could see that Psamtik’s claw-like hand was clutching the arm of his throne and he watched as a blue vein pulsed in the skinny neck under a gold neckband. One time Ankhare had told Matwa that he would never have such a poor specimen even clean pots for his troops, but this scarecrow who seemed to be certain that he was already a god, would be the Pharaoh. Matwa felt a sharp twinge of doubt and he looked away. He was going to have to accept it, but his mind continued to doubt. Could they, the priests, transform this weakling into a god? Didn’t they need better material to work with?

“It is now time, Prince Psamtik,” Matwa began, “for you to come to the room where your father, god of the underworld now...”

“No, no, no!” Psamtik interrupted, “I want to lie down now for my nap! I always do! Just because the old Pharaoh died does not mean that I have to change my schedule.” Psamtik’s eyes were red and his thin lips set in determination.

Matwa looked helplessly at Ankhare, as if for help, but the general was studying the ground and blushing furiously in shame. Kawaba, Psamtik’s mother, stood up and took the young man’s hand without further arguments and began to lead him from the room. He stood quite tall, as almost all of the Pharaoh’s children did, but as he left, they saw his backbone clearly. His shoulder blades protruded like the tucked in wings of a pelican.

Matwa knew what Kawaba was doing. He’d actually seen the disgusting thing before, since Psamtik was unashamed. Kawaba would lie down on the bed after settling her son in. She would lift her sash and when he opened his mouth wide to take in most of her sagging breast, she always winced. He would suck vigorously, although she was as dry as a mummy’s tit in late summer. He always did this when he felt insecure. Matwa groaned as he imagined the young pharaoh-to-be with his eyes shut—those eyes that looked like balls with a thin membrane stretched over them— while he made loud sucking noises. He looked away in disgust and began to study the cracks in the stone floor.

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-gaumata-king-of-kings/

The Pharaoh--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The following was related to me by a trusted follower, who I killed later. I include this so that you will have some idea as to the situation in Egypt as King Cambyses made his plans to invade:

The body of the Pharaoh Ahmose lay on a stone slab. He was dressed splendidly. Even his crown was propped into place. His arms lay crossed on his chest in the manner of a mummy and the two scepters glinted in the sunlight. Attendants walked noiselessly through the room as a phalanx of shaved-headed priests dressed in pure white stood looking at the body, as if it would get up at any moment and address them. The Pharaoh had finally entered the underworld, where he would rule forever. The heat of the day was intense. Matwa, the head priest, knew that he must give the order that the body of the god-king be taken to the royal embalmers. He hesitated because his heart was heavy with thoughts of the state of Egypt.
The great Pharaoh Ahmose was truly the god on earth and now he was Osiris and would rule the underworld. None of the priests surrounding the dead pharaoh showed any emotion, for this was a time of grave peril for the king. His body had to be prepared and this might take up to six weeks. The tomb was well prepared—it had been for the last thirty years. A priest used a fly whisk to make sure no insect landed on the king.
No, it wasn’t the fact that the pharaoh had gone to the underworld that bothered Matwa, but that he had left no real successor. The son who had been groomed for the throne of Upper and Lower Egypt was now dead. He preceded his father in death, thanks to the Greeks. Pharaoh Ahmose had been keen on strengthening his ties with the Greeks, but Ahmose III had died in a shipwreck on his way to Greece on an expedition.
Now they were left only with the sickly and effeminate Psamtik III. The priesthood opposed his ascension, but his mother was far more powerful than the other queens and it would be impossible to change the course of events now. Matwa had been in favor of a lesser ranked son, Ankhare, who was serving as the army commander. He was virile and steadfast. Psamtik, on the other hand...

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-in-egypt/

The Prince and the Girls--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Now Prince Cambyses was assured the position of King of Kings. I had made it possible. What a clever fellow I am! I was becoming quite settled in the palace, inside of his head. The only thing was that I needed somehow to control his sexual urges. It was disgusting the way his body seemed always alert for women. One day, I saw that my training was finally taking root.

A sound from the curtained doorway made Cambyses glance up briefly. Sarada, one of the youngest of Prince Cambyses’ wives came into the room where he sat, head down, as he inspected some of the precious items he had taken from his father’s quarters. She wanted to sit on his lap, as was her custom when she wanted to complain about one of her senior co-wives. 

Cambyses was annoyed, but he allowed her to climb onto his lap as he examined a small, filigreed locket. She was babbling on. Usually he found her as adorable as a newborn filly, but today, an odd rage seemed to well up within him. Her words grated on his senses and this startled him because usually he was able to tune her out completely until she was ready to go to bed with him.

“And so it I was just standing there and she said did I say you could wear my shift? And I said, well, why not, you once used the ring I left on the table that time, and she said well you stole that from me, don’t you remember? And so anyway then...”

Cambyses let his knee go limp and the girl began to slip to the floor. She grabbed him around the neck and tried to kiss him, but he shied away. Abruptly, she pulled back and wiped her lips on her sleeve.

“What is that smell? Maybe you were holding baby Xerxes on your lap? And maybe he pooped on you?”

Cambyses pushed her to the floor violently and glared at her as if she were an enemy. She ran crying from the room and Cambyses called his steward to fix him a hot bath. He just had to bathe and get the awful feel of that woman off of him. How could he bear those women—there were just so many of them swarming in his quarters, in the gardens, everywhere. “If anyone smells it’s them— the dirty evil creatures,” he growled. He stood swaying slightly as his eyes filmed over. He smiled sardonically and began to undress.

That, my friends, was my doing. My personality was beginning to rise in him.

Walking Dead--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The biggest of my problems was that Rustem refused to stay dead. I do not mean like your wretchedly ignorant idea of zombies or walking dead people. I cannot believe that even having survived this long entertainment has not improved. I told you that I am staying at the domicile of a person by the name of Forrest. I stay here only on his insistence, for I need no person. If I needed what this simpleton farmer had to offer, I would possess his body. In any case, he introduced me to the flattened box he calls a TV. By some sort of witchcraft it projects the forms of small humans. We sat upon a sort of throne called a couch, and with a wand-like apparatus, he makes the forms appear. His latest interest is a play called Walking Dead People. He appears to be entertained by it, and drinks a bitter ale in a strange metal cup. I tried it, and felt insulted that he did not heat it to the correct temperature. Rather, he served it cold. I threatened to kill him for this insult, and he poured the concoction into a glass flask and placed it into a box that produced a humming noise accompanied by light. I forced him to drink some before I would sample it, for I feared he had tried to poison me.

As for the flattened forms of the Walking Dead People, it gave me an idea. However, I would not personally do this thing. I wondered if a sorcerer tried to inhabit a body, but found it to be dead. If he could not escape, this walking dead person would happen. If one could force the spirit out of a living body and make it go into a dead body, then one would not have to share the body. This has always been a problem for me, so I am thinking about how this might be best accomplished.

http://www.devinedestinies.com/kitsune-tsukis-possession/

The Horrors Inflicted Against Me--The Sorcerer Gaumata

If only the women the king kept would all die!
There were times when I dearly wanted to return to my own body. Especially when the king engaged in sex with his many wives. Although I shut my eyes against the awful sights and I tried to plug my ears against the sounds of rutting, it was of no use. Their sweating bodies would slap and squelch together. There were horrendous sucking noises and deep grunts like those made by pigs. And the desperate need to scratch that evil itch between their legs was more than I could stomach! I would lose control of my body. I hated that the most. My pelvis would begin to thrust on its own, as if possessed by a gremlin. The sight of my own reddened, swollen cock made me violently ill, yet I could not stop myself. Sometimes I beat myself about the groin in anguish, but it was as if I had no control over what should be mine. For a sorcerer possessed of so much power, it shamed me to no end that I had to undergo such suffering! But often I was able to assert myself. At these times, Cyrus would be quite cruel, throwing the woman off his bed and glaring at her in hatred. His desire and my repulsion were thus intermittently present, causing his wives to fear him greatly. They never came to his bed willingly anymore. Instead, they dreaded it. The King of Kings knew this and it made him livid with rage. Instead of discouraging him, it made him go about his task with vicious zeal, much to my horror. Time passed slowly as I waited, but I knew that soon I would kill my host and inhabit the body of his robust son, Prince Cambyses.

http://www.extasybooks.com/curse-of-two-spirit/

Revenge is Sweet--The Sorcerer Gaumata

“Eventually, the child Cyrus was brought to the Royal Court of the Median Emperor Astyages. He was put under the expert tutelage of the same Harpagus, for by this time, Astyages had entirely forgotten the incident. As time passed, Harpagus secretly instilled hatred and rebellion into the young prince’s mind. When he was grown up, Cyrus was sent back to Persia to rule the subordinate throne of Persia under the Medes.

“One day, Cyrus gathered all of his Persian court, as well as the nobles in the kingdom. He gave each an ax and sent them to chop wood all day. He did not allow them to stop for food or water. The next day he invited them for a great hunt. Afterwards they feasted all evening. Cyrus asked them to vote. Which day was more enjoyable? They all chose the hunting and feasting. King Cyrus explained in his charismatic way, that as servants to the Medes, they had no real control over their lives. They were, in fact, slaves. After his fiery speech, he invited the proud lords to join in a rebellion against the powerful Median overlords, headed by his grandfather, Emperor Astyages.

“When Astyages learned of the rebellion, the dream came back to haunt him. He was terrified, so he called his most able army officer, Harpagus, to lead the Median army to quell the rebellion, a thing they should have been able to do easily. Harpagus finally found the means to revenge the gruesome death of his son. Instead of quelling the rebellion, he joined forces with Cyrus, and they returned to the Median capital to overthrow Astyages. The dream that had haunted the Emperor had finally come true. The new combined empire under you, our lord and emperor Cyrus, has grown and prospered since then.”

Monushir bowed slightly and turned again to face Cyrus.

Cyrus glared at him. “Out with it, you bombastic fool! What is the significance of my dream?”

http://www.extasybooks.com/son-of-fire-10/

A Horrible Nightmare--The Sorcerer Gaumata

It was my misfortune that the King of Kings had a mind that was very mysterious. I chose an hour just after midnight to enter his mind. He was fast asleep, and I knew there would be little resistance. Yet, at the very moment I entered, the king was dreaming. Somehow, this was an inopportune time, for I found myself drawn into his dream as if it were actually happening. I had never entered into a dreaming mind, and I will be cautious not to do so in the future. Cyrus lay deeply asleep.  His right hand twitched slightly as a dream began.  Mandane, his mother, is lying asleep on a fluffy mound of blankets.  He sees the Median king, Astyages, watching her as she sleeps, quite naked.  Cyrus sees something slowly pushing its way out of her vagina.  I am both aware of Cyrus and his horror, as well as my own. I sense that my fear is greater than his, for I cannot bear the sight of her naked vagina. The thing that emerges seems soft at first, but as it materializes, it becomes more solid.  The growing goes on with increased cracking and popping sounds as a great tree forms.  It continues to grow out of her until it seems to cover the entire earth.  Looking from above, we see that Astyages has been skewered by one of the huge branches.  His limp body hangs there as the tree continues to grow.
Cyrus and I watch in shock as the tree hardens and sets its branches.  It seems to me that its branches have spread out into every corner of the world.  There are two major branches coming from the main trunk; however, there are many other strong branches.  As we watch, one of the two big branches seems to twist itself around the other, which seemed to be trying to push it aside.  Red blood pours from the branch and it appears to decay rapidly, turning brown and mushy before our eyes.  The remaining large branch begins to writhe in all directions.  Some of its minor branches break off.  Finally, with a great spasm, it too, begins to rot.

http://www.extasybooks.com/calor-del-amor-6/

Sex? No, Anything But That!--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The woman, Anahita, was awake. I crouched down low in Rustem’s mind and tried to cover my eyes, but when his eyes suddenly snapped open, I too, saw the woman. She was smiling slightly as she ran a gentle hand over her husband’s body. Damn it all! I was sharing that body now, and cringed from her touch. 
I was unable to keep the sensation off myself. Although I struggled to stay incognito, a small squeak of fear escaped me as the woman began to untie the trousers. No, please keep her off! I prayed silently as alarm made my limbs stiff. I could feel the throbbing erection and I knew that it would find the woman. I covered my eyes with trembling hands, cowering in a corner of Rustem’s mind, but I could still feel the hot wetness of the woman come down over his appendage. The throbbing seemed urgent. I was sure that the cock meant to explode as the woman began her obscene and animal-like squirming as she rode Rustem. I too, felt the pain and the ecstasy as Rustem held back, daring the engorged thing to burst. I felt myself become inundated in their passion until I lost control entirely. Finally, with a primal scream of keen lust, I felt the thing go limp and at last, the woman gave up her wild ride. I felt her hot and pulsating cave disgorge the uselessly limp and slimy thing as she fell to her back with a sigh of satisfaction.


I was thankful that Rustem hadn’t noticed me in the passion of the act and his exhaustion after it, for I began to cry hot tears of mingled shame, disgust, and horror. I stayed in the deepest part of Rustem’s mind, wringing my hands in a fit of loathing. I thought of my body, which lay curled in a huge hollow in the trunk of a tree. Although my mind was elsewhere, my body kept a tenuous connection with it. My body was now wracked with violent trembling as its hands dug their nails into their palms. It was cold now as the sticky liquid between its legs began to cool. The ache in my body’s penis was unbearable. 

http://www.extasybooks.com/la-bruja-2/

My Agony--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Hiding in the hole in the trunk of a tree, I spent weeks in intense agony as my wounds healed. Maggots writhed in the flesh of my head and I had to remove them one by one with a sharpened twig. I had what seemed like a lifetime to contemplate the evil that had been done to me—and to imagine my revenge. When I was well enough to venture out, I wrapped moss over my wounds and fashioned a turban with the cloth of my sash. I found a man wearing a Scythian style boiled wool hat I thought would be perfect. It had flaps over the ears to conceal my shame. I would have killed him and taken it, but I still felt weak. Instead, I gave him three coppers and he turned over the hat, which smelled deeply of the foulness of his head. I gagged, but one adjusts to such things.

I once again entered the forest and began to practice my spells and curses with a diligence I had never had before. I would perfect my craft. Now I had not only the inborn talent, but also the greatest motivation a man can have—revenge. Day and night the vision of Rustem insane with fear filled my mind. Again and again I imagined the tortures I would inflict upon him. He would rue the day he went up against the Sorcerer Gaumata. Even now I feel the urge to rub my hands together and feel the heat of my hatred.

How I was Ensnared--The Sorcerer Gaumata

So I found myself again caught in a woman’s trap. The woman was decorated with delicate jewelry, but she was obviously dressed for an intimate encounter with the king. Her slight bosom was barely covered in a gossamer silk that showed every detail of her young breasts. The skirt she wore concealed nothing. It was totally sheer. I decided that I had to leave and try to figure out how to overcome this problem. 
The king held out a paw-like hand, calloused by wielding the sword. Her delicate little hand slipped into it and she giggled slightly. I was poised to leave, but something in the king’s mind grabbed me like a vise around a certain part of my body. I realized that his body was responding to the sight of the woman. He lusted for her. Oh the gods and demons! She brazenly sat on his lap and wiggled as she felt his rising appendage against her body. She turned and I could see her pink lips, but I no longer heard what she was saying. She stroked the king’s perfectly coifed beard with one hand and—may she be cursed—she slipped the other hand into his royal robe, pinching his nipple as if she were possessed by the primeval Whore Jahi. I felt my body convulse. I felt his hideous erection building as if it were a pig’s bladder filled with too much water. It would burst and I would die.
I finally fought down my panic and took control. I used the king’s body to snatch the girl by her hair and fling her to the ground. She ran from the room after staring at him in disbelief. I was just about to make good my escape when the door flung open and the accursed sorcerer-mage Rustem stepped in. He saw me. I know he saw me there in the mind of the king, although I cannot say how. He reached for his waist and pulled out the kusti rope these mages wear to effect a spell and he shook it hard three times. I screamed as I was wrenched out and thrown back into my body. The pain I felt was agonizing. I screamed again as I saw that a large rat was gnawing on my left great toenail, causing it to bleed. My cry barely frightened it, and it stared at me with red eyes and a bloody mouth.
I hastened back to my quarters in the mage hall, but the sorcerer-mage Rustem was waiting for me with armed soldiers. Before I could dispel them with a curse, Rustem put a binding spell on me. He was devilishly powerful. It was at this point that I decided that when I killed him—for certainly I would never suffer a man to live who was so powerful—I would see to it that he suffered intensely. Yes, he would know fear like he never imagined.

http://www.extasybooks.com/son-of-fire-10/

From the Sorcerer Gaumata's Journal--How I Committed My First Monstrous Crime--Warning: not for the weak

Ha!!! It was the one act that finally allowed me entrance into the ranks of the sorcerers. Dear readers, do you really think it is as easy as reading a book on black magic? No. Despite the fact that my "talent" was inborn, I needed one black act to burst out of the bubble of normal life and finally pass over into the realm where one truly has given up all troublesome signs of humanity. True--I had committed crimes before this, but cold blooded murder is different. Whenever I think of it, my body quickens. I could actually feel the darkness as it came over me. Delicious! The power that was unleashed made me burst with joy so much that I rubbed my hands together rapidly until in a flash of ecstasy, I clapped them. Sparks flew out around me and I began to dance. 

I was twenty years of age, a grown man, when I finally killed my mother. We still lived in the small, one-room hut with the dirty sheet separating us. My mother changed men often. It seemed that her career as a whore had given her a perverse taste for the worst of them. This time my mother had come home with a fat man who had begun to undress even before he had retreated to his side of the sheet. He regarded me with a lascivious stare. His eyes were nearly hidden in the porcine face, but I still could see them dully watching me as he stroked his lower belly, which was as close as he could get to the stubby penis that peeked out from the mounds of flesh.

The obese man’s thighs were rolls of fat that jiggled as his excited manhood peeped out. My mother began to protest that I was watching. The man didn’t respond. Instead, he fell upon her and began to rip off her clothes. Her protestations became weak and within minutes, the whore was responding to him with her own grunts. They were rutting swine. I was disgusted.
I waited for a few minutes until my disgust became unbearable and then I got up and looked at them for a minute. The fat man’s behind was spread obscenely as he completely covered my mother. She saw me for a moment, but the man’s meaty face covered both her nose and mouth with his thick lips as he began to suck on her face. I went out and breathed the air. It seemed to me that the smell of their obscene, goatish mating had left its scent on me forever. Taking the oil lamp I still held in my hand, I spilled the oil all around the thatch roofed wooden hut. I then barred the door from the outside and tossed the lighted lamp and whatever oil remained onto the hut. It caught in an instant.

I first heard the high-pitched and frantic screams of my mother and then the bellowing of the fat man. I wondered if it was finally hot enough for her. I wondered if her itch had finally been satisfied. The screaming continued and the man threw himself against the door until it finally collapsed and he emerged, his entire naked body burning as if the accumulated fat in that corpse could burn like that for a month. He ran away from the hut, only to fall with his arms outstretched and his blackened body twitching fiercely. My mother stayed in the inferno. Now I was finally a whole man.

Curse of Two-Spirit

http://www.extasybooks.com/curse-of-two-spirit/

 The body is weak, but the spirit is strong. Two spirits are twice as strong.

     

    Ray Mankiller is a Two-Spirit Native American. Two-Spirits are people whose bodies contain not just one soul, but two, usually a male and a female spirit. He has known this since he was a child, but it is only recently that the dreams have begun. In these dreams he sees the ancient past. He sees a Two-Spirit like him, but unlike his modern world, the ancient world was dangerous for a Two-Spirit who was also born of a witch. In this tortured world, Deer Tracks, the Two-Spirit of his visions, has visions of her own. She sees the death of the one she loves at the hands of a hated shaman, Lazy Duck. She knows he will stop at nothing to possess her, even though in body, she is a male. It is said that a Two-Spirit brings great power to the one he or she marries.

    The visions are not enough to distract Ray from the problems he is facing in his own life. A newly hired professor of Ceramics at the University of Mississippi, he soon finds that one of the faculty members hates him and wants to destroy his chances of ever becoming tenured. He seeks shelter in the strong arms of Angus Tanner, a professor of Anthropology who is fascinated with Ray’s story…and with his body. When the tendrils of the past start to snake their way into the present in the form of a cursed figurine, Ray is faced with the most terrifying visions—only they are of the present, not the past. He must find a way to destroy the evil ghost of Lazy Duck before history repeats itself. Is he dragging Angus into a trap he himself set in another life?

Yurei--Other Kinds of Ghosts in Japan

Another kind of Japanese ghost is the “Ghost Mother,” the spirit of a dead mother who returns to care for her living child. There are many stories from various areas of Japan telling of ghosts who may, for example, buy sweets for their babies and young children. The mother’s tie to her child allows her to remain to care for it. She is a benevolent figure, as long as the child is not harmed by someone, such as an angry father or stepmother, at which time she may become enraged.

Malevolent ghosts are another sort of ghost. Quite often they cause mischief and destruction. The ghosts of people who have died while trying to cross a mountain may try to mislead a person so that he or she will die and join the ghost in their lonely existence. Sometimes a ghost may create the illusion of a nice inn, for example, which in reality is the cave of a hungry beast. 
People who die at sea and become ghosts may follow a ship demanding to get a pail without a bottom. If they don’t get it, they will fill the ship with water so that it sinks. 
Fallen armies often come back in mass hauntings. Some individual dead samurai may return under specific circumstances or places associated with their deaths.

Hungry Ghosts

Why do the gaki ghosts merit a meal on O-Bon, the Japanese All-Soul’s day? Because ghosts can be the cause of misfortune, or even insanity. The separate altar for the ghosts is called the “gaki-dana,” and it serves the purpose of placating ghosts who may be hanging around waiting to do mischief. Buddhist monks will often set out a meal of rice for them before they take their own meals.
Ghosts are appeased so that they will stay away from the family, whereas it is hoped that the ancestors will take part in the family affairs as givers of good advice and good luck.
Especially in the case of the recently dead, people will communicate with their spirits, often relating their day’s events. This seems so much nicer than the way we tend to forget the dead.

Gaki--Hungry Ghosts in Japan

All-Souls Day in Japan and Hungry Ghosts

Bon is called “the Feast of the Lanterns” in Japan. It is celebrated in the summer to honor the souls of the dead. Bonfires are set at the tops of tall mountains so that the souls will be able to find their ways back. Mountain paths are also cleared so that the souls will be able to pass freely. 
One of the interesting features of these customs is the erecting of two kinds of altars. One is for the ancestors. Ancestors are the well-wishers of the family. Another altar is set for the gaki, or hungry spirits, which are ghosts who have nobody to feed them. 
People who have no descendents to offer them worship will become ghosts, but they are not alone. Women who die in childbirth, scorned lovers who die, people who commit suicide, and people who die with deep regrets may become ghosts. 
In my book, Oni Demons, there is the story of a woman whose father tricks her into believing that her indigent lover dumped her. She dies of grief, but returns to seek him out. The result is horrific.

http://www.devinedestinies.com/oni-devils/

New Book!! Seeing Crimson by KB Forrest

http://www.devinedestinies.com/seeing-crimson/

What do the Barrios of New York City and Harvard University have in common? Turi Sepulveda soon realizes that it is murder and madness.

Turi knows that it’s a fluke that he’s been accepted as part of the First Year Class at Harvard University. At age thirty, he’s had his share of bad luck as a rodeo bull rider before returning to school to simply get his G.E.D. He never expected to be at Harvard, and he certainly never expected to be accused of murder, despite all of his dark secrets. When Justin Anderson, Turi’s gregarious and popular roommate, finds his social life crashing in on him after he’s paired with the brooding Hispanic, he thinks he’s discovered a new meaning to the label the roommate from Hell. When the murders begin, they look at each other as suspects. Whoever is to blame, the only sure thing is that he is a madman whose insanity is escalating. 

When Justin’s admirer—Kumari Sethi, a freshman woman with orthodox Hindu parents—is brutally murdered, Turi becomes the prime suspect as detectives battle to unwind the series of murders. It seems that Alison, Turi’s new girlfriend, is the only one convinced of his innocence. Can she prove it before she too, becomes a victim?