My Demonic Ghost: Banished Spirits (3 page)

“I’ll be watching.”

I didn’t have time to fully absorb Lock’s warning as I was swallowed into the spiral of shadows momentarily and reappeared back into the dining room, sitting back by my father's feet. He was sitting facing me, with his eyes closed and a soft smile across his relaxed face; as though he was letting me know that everything will be alright. I couldn’t stop myself from shaking. I couldn’t stop myself from crying. Wrapping my arms around his knees and burying my face into his legs, I let out painful sobs.

I’m so sorry! Please, help me, what am I to do? Save me dad!

A few hours had passed as I sat facing a stern older woman, wrapped in a blanket as paramedics hovered over my father. They checked his neck for a pulse and after a moment exchanged swift shakes of their heads. They lifted his body upwards and lay him out across a trolley, pulling up white sheets until his head was completely covered. The layers fell against his body leaving an outline of his resting form.

I sighed, tense, my fingers twitching and my mind racing a hundred miles a minute but not registering any thought at all. I could feel Lock’s cold presence lingering, watching me in the darkness and draining me with every passing second. It felt horrible. How long will I have to wait until I too go insane?  And what about my mother, she would surely break down if she were to find out… I shuddered so hard that my entire body shook.
I can’t do this to her.

“Are you okay? Would you like a drink?” The older woman wrapped her arm around my shoulder as I broke out in shivers and shakes.

“Did you know my dad?” I inquired.

“No, I didn’t know him personally, but the hospital dealt with him on weekly basis. He was always so kind to all the nurses.”

“You never saw anything abnormal? Like a young boy with him, around thirteen or fourteen?” I lowered my head, feeling the burn of the nurse’s stare harden.

“What are you talking about? As far as I know, he was always alone. Preferred it that way too, I believe.”

“Did he speak about bad spirits?” Glancing up so my sore red eyes could focus on her face, I stole a peek at the towering nurse, her once wrinkled smile pulled back into an uncomfortable frown, stubborn and intimidating like a principal ready to discipline a student.  Her eyes were outlined by stress wrinkles, deep and burrowed into her pasty skin where soft, mousy hair poked out in patches underneath her nursing cap. Around her neck was the Crucifix.

“Well-”

“Never mind,” I quickly smiled and shrugged the question off, turning back to face my father, whose body was being wheeled out the front door and into the waiting ambulance.

Everything around me seemed to slow in time. The ticking of the nurse’s watch became loud, and gradually, nothing but heavy thumps as the wheels of the trolley squeaked away. I could never explain this situation without sounding as insane and disturbed as my father. I can’t follow his path and try to rely on others. Otherwise it’ll be me next that’s being wheeled out underneath white bed sheets. To have the world look at you as if you’re crazy, to be an outcast in your own family, and used as a slave by supposedly fictional spirits… how that must’ve felt... To be so alone, ignored, and told over and over again that you’re a liar and that you’re crazy, could anyone do anything different than what he did? But at least I know what the demon wants; he wants me to help find some sort of Staff. But what is this Staff? Is it a weapon of some sort? Can he harm others with it? If I don’t do as he says, I’ll become a walking eighty-eight year old teenager.
Should I help or shouldn’t I? Live by helping the bad or die by being good
? It’s like being pushed into a war but ending up on the wrong side. On the losing side.  What do you do then?

Die or join them?

Chapter Four:

I waited for Mum to call but my mobile connection was poor. To keep myself busy I started scrubbing at the bench surfaces of the kitchen tables. I found a total of six rat bodies that had died underneath the gap of the fridge, an infestation of centipedes had taken over the walls across the halls and up the stairs, and I was pretty sure I had stumbled upon a nest of cockroaches lingering around the bath tub. How my father could’ve lived like this was beyond my understanding.

The very first time dad had brought the family to this house was around 3 years ago; it had been left behind by a distant uncle, related by marriage, who lived here with his second wife and their three sons. I hadn’t met this uncle until I was thirteen. Two of the sons, both of whom were older and belonged to my uncle’s first marriage, were on the verge of leaving the nest; but the youngest son was around my age, and belonged to the second wife’s ex-husband. I noticed the older brothers had their father’s staggering height and somewhat sophisticated charm. I didn’t get to meet the youngest boy; apparently he had been busy helping out the neighbour.

Uncle Ray had a business man beard and sallow, nicotine-stained skin that reeked of smoke. He had a pot belly forming, which he didn’t seem to know what to do with, and warm brown, slicked back hair. The roots at his temple were already turning grey from his hard years of being the head of a corporate business. He was friendly, laughed a lot, and had a bowl of hard candy sitting on the living room table as much for himself as visitors.

His second wife was beautiful and quiet, but had a strange taste for a combination of rubber gloves mixed with summer dresses. My parents often made remarks about how she cared more about the house’s appearances than her own children. But as time passed it became less funny and became truer. Then suddenly, they just moved; I wasn’t sure of what exactly happened to the family, I never heard anything more about them.

She’d probably want to kill someone if she saw how her house is now
, I couldn’t help myself chuckle coolly, stroking my finger against the door frame and inspecting the coat of dust that clung to it. The house used to be filled with dashes of green and gold, the radio playing classical favourites, and the lights were left on in every room to help bring forward the beautiful paints, or so my Aunty justified the large electricity bill.

I moved into the lounge and flicked on the light switch, blinking the room into life. Turning to continue dusting, I nearly stepped through the spirit who had appeared within an inch of me. He was glaring at me, accusingly, through the sweeping bangs of his hair.

“Keep it off,” he demanded before bursting into a cloud of smoke as the lights flickered and burnt out. I took a quick step back and yelped. I could feel the panic rise in me and did my best to stop my shaking.

I couldn’t continue cleaning any longer so I crawled up onto the couch with my book, flicking through the pages and looking wearily upwards to check if the ghost was lingering around. I just had a suspicious feeling of danger. I could vaguely sense that he was watching and couldn’t shake that fear of angering him. I had my spirits and demons source book out as I desperately flipped through the pages trying to find any information about Banished spirits.There were stories about witches, demons, ghosts, spirits of the dead and spirits of the underworld, and yet nothing could match the description of Lock. He was too real, looked too real (except maybe for the dark ash smear) and did not act like a mindless simulation of a former life, but like the behaviours of ordinary children. I hadn’t slept at all last night. I was sitting with such tension that my joints started to ache. Knees tucked up to my chest, shoulders tensed so that my neck disappeared, hands continuously rubbing and fidgeting together as my eyes shot around the room in high alert; I could definitely feel the decline in my own sanity. What I needed was to feel secure, to have friend or family member to keeping me company.

“Whatcha reading?” I let out a long scream, nearly tossing the book into the air as Lock appeared, hovering above me and looking down over my shoulder onto a page about expelling ghosts. I slammed the book shut before he could read anything more.

“Please, don’t! Just go away!” I shrieked while hugging the book to my chest, afraid that he would try and tear it from my arms. I felt stupid, really stupid for blushing so hard when he looked at me. Lock floated backwards, looking a little hurt, before sinking to the ground and landing on his feet.

“I’m so bored. You’re boring. Do something!” he whined. I looked up at him with my eyebrows raised.
What does he expect? Am I meant to be his source of entertainment?
I couldn’t pull my eyes from him; I just didn’t know what he was capable of, of his true intentions.

Softly I hiccupped, “Like what?” I couldn’t think of anything fun that included a Banished spirit boy with mood swings.

“I dunno, you think of something!!” Lock snapped again. I felt taken aback; did my father entertain him or something? Regardless, there was no way I was going to challenge him, no matter how rude he was.

“What are you?” I questioned softly after a moment of pause, trying to even out the shaking in my voice. He looked down at me, rubbing at his serpent eyes before running a hand roughly through his hair. I couldn’t stop myself from studying him, his every twitch and nervous fidget. He was astonishing when he wasn’t drowning me down into a bottomless pit of uncertainty and awe, he looked different. Much different, even shy perhaps?

“I’m Rachael and I’m fifteen …umm, how old are you, Lock?” I felt like I was a hostage negotiator trying to keep him calm. Not once did I let my body relax.

“None of your business,” he said.

“Do you have any friends? Any family?” Lock scoffed loudly at the idea of family. He just didn’t make any sense; he wanted me to help, but wouldn’t cooperate. Every time I brought up a new question about him he either laughed or snapped at me, calling me stupid and boring. I was quickly growing a great disliking towards him and was even about to turn my back in surrender, a little annoyed that he was being so difficult.

“What about this Staff thing, tell me about that?” Lock’s almost permanent smirk fell as he lifted his head, looking over at me with a look of genuine surprise. His shiny green hues dilated. Intrigued, I instinctively leaned a little bit forward as well.  He fell silent while peering over his shoulder vulnerably, looking for a distraction or anything he could ridicule.  Sighing, he lowered himself to the floor, coming eye to eye with me as I remained seated.

“I can’t explain it very well,” he mumbled.

He looked so innocent, so young and small that suddenly all that hatred I had felt, all the resentment had, instantly flew out of me. My lips twitched slightly, unsure of what to say. I didn’t have any siblings, and although I had heard stories from my friends of the irritation they felt towards their little brothers and sisters, all that fighting and screaming and the annoyance of crossing each other's boundaries, knowing they would jump in front of a car in an instant to save their lives; it was an emotion I couldn’t identify with. They had always whinged to me about how lucky I was to be the only child, never realising how lonely it is.

Just then, as Lock leaned forward, opening his mouth to speak, we heard the creak of the front door opening, and inside walked an impatient set of footsteps. I recognised the visitor the moment the door slammed closed, noting the urgency in her steps as she stumbled to get inside. We both had the same clumsiness. I sprang up from my seat, whispering ‘Mum' before running to her open arms. Lock evaporated into ash even before she had stepped foot inside the house. 

“I heard what happened this morning, I’m so sorry that I couldn’t get in contact with you.”

She had obviously already been crying and was out of breath, her cheeks were tear stained and her eyes puffy. She wore her baggage around her shoulders, her short blonde hair pinned back in a low-neck pony tail and her bangs pulled back by a grey headband. I was so relieved at hearing her voice that I started to feel my eyes swell with itchy tears. I instantly started crying remembering the sadness I’d felt at the loss of my father and the loneliness I’d felt without my mother, which provoked her into capturing me in a hug. Her perfume, the scent of sweet lemons, reminded me of the poor stench of the rest of the house. I wasn’t sure how I adapted to the smell so quickly; always just sitting there, lingering in my nose.

We cried in each other’s arms for a while and after a paw full of snotty tissues we both stood, ready to prepare dinner. Mum went out to the closest FGS (Food & Goods Store), or here it was called the Camarra market, to collect enough groceries to feed us both. I was placed in charge of preparing the proper place setting, something I was more than happy to distract myself with. I fetched out two of the cleanest plates, two forks, two knives, a couple of spoons and two glasses, filling both with water. I placed them facing each other with placemats tucked underneath. Wiping my hands down my front, I pulled my hair free from its pony tail and allowed it to sweep down past my shoulders. The smell of fruit from my last wash now filtered the space around me as the silence became unnatural and alien. I was just standing here, smiling like an idiot, waiting for someone to say thank you or compliment me on my work.  

“What the hell is that old hag doing here? Did you invite her?” I turned on my heel at the recognisable growling tone; startled once more by the sudden appearance of Lock, but this time able to control my shrieks. He sat with a frown on his face, arms crossed and his feet kicked up against the table while leaning back on the hind legs of the chair. Even as he puckered up his lips into a pout, his heavy emerald eyes remained firm.

“Excuse me, that’s very rude.” I know I had promised myself earlier not to challenge him, but it wasn’t only me I had to protect anymore.

“Well I don’t like her, she stinks like old dog! Kick her out!!”

“What? No way!” My voice jumped and I cursed myself for losing control so easily.

“I said DO it! I’m the master and I’m telling you to get rid of that ugly old woman!” He held his tone with me.

“Watch your mouth, Lock!”

“Or what? You’re gonna punish me? Give me a time out? HA!” He literally spat his words and vanished once more into moving smoke, making sure he tipped over the glasses as he passed and causing the liquid to rush across the table. 

I stamped my foot angrily but he was long gone before I could bite back. I tried to catch the water before it dribbled onto the carpet. One of the glasses had been chipped down the side and had to be replaced by a mug. Only a few minutes afterwards, I spotted my mother, Dianne, in the distance, walking towards the house; two plastic bags weighing down each hand as her purse bounced against her hips with every step. I checked awkwardly into the rafters and around myself, not knowing where Lock was, quickly side stepping towards the door.

“You better behave yourself,” I muttered lowly. I stretched my hand out for the doorknob just as the padlock on the front door snapped closed. My fingers flexed backwards in a moment of surprise, before reaching down and twisting the lock back the other way, not thinking too much into it. Just as I let go the lock twisted back, it again refused to stay. I had already figured it was Lock’s doing, trying to get me agitated again.
Don’t freak out, it’s just a little boy playing stupid games
!

Trying to outsmart him; I decided to hold onto the lock and the door handle at the same time, hoping to unlock it just in time to pull the door open. As I twisted and pulled the door towards me it didn’t budge, not even the tiniest inch to let the breeze in. Pulling and heaving, I became frustrated and ended up booting the door with the side of my shoe.
I’m not in the mood for this; cut it out.
I itched to scowl at him, but my mother had already reached the door and was waiting patiently on the other side.

Gradually, in slow twists of fine smoke, appeared the shape of a hand, spiralling like tiny ash snakes into solid form right before my eyes. It was pushing against the door, holding it back in place against the frame.

“Please stop,” I begged. Hoisting one leg up and onto the wall to give myself more strength, I pulled backwards with all of my body weight. I was leaning so far back that I could feel how my back made a straight line from my one rooted foot up to the tip of my head.

“Rachael, sweetie... is something wrong?” Mum was peering in through the window; her hands still fastened around the groceries.  

“I’m fine, Mum. The door is just a bit warped that’s all,” I called out in a troubled laugh before shooting a fiery glance towards Lock, as serious as I could master, who stood comfortably in front of the door, his one hand still keeping it shut. “Cut it out right now. Stop being such a little brat!!”

He glared at me intently. Dianne started pushing and tapping on the other side, catching Lock’s attention as he jerked his head and shot her an equally nasty snarl.  Mum didn’t react to him, glancing inside as though he wasn’t there, her eyes moved right through Lock and onto me who stood behind him.

“I said cut it out.” I hissed through my teeth, booting the door once more, embarrassed by my lack of power as my cheeks glowed with a reddening rash that climbed up my neck and reached my high cheek bones. Suddenly in a flash I could barely follow, the blinds on the windows shot down and closed off Dianne’s face. She kept tapping the window, laughing. Unbeknownst to her, I got a powerful strike to my stomach, Lock then shoving both his flat palms into my chest and throwing me down the hallway where I slammed my back into the end wall and crumpled to my knees.