My Demonic Ghost: Banished Spirits by Jacinta Maree Page A

land in a heavy rush of icy wafts, a storm followed the moon’s radiance as it swept across the sky and covered up the stars. Death. It’s ironic how I never recognised it before as a living thing, where now it follows me like my own shadow; always following carefully. But now it had a face and a name, I called it Lock.
    “Lock?” There was no reply. I cupped my hands around my mouth once more and shouted as loud as I could. The storm growled at me in return with loud thunderous claps which overpowered my straining voice, pushing it back into the ground.
    I wouldn’t have been able to do this any other night if it wasn’t for my fear of losing my courage. Even now, between each breath I started to question myself, my own rationality. I didn’t want to grow conscious of what I was searching for.
    I wondered for a moment, as I watched the sky, if he hated the moon as well. I pondered a lot of ideas that had to do with Lock; and not just about spirits, but also the reasons and secrets he held, things which are probably too personal and hurtful to open up to me about.
    There was a vibrant clash of lightning bolts as the sky struggled against the smothering darkness of the clouds. Even the moon was fighting for some surface as the swift puffy shapes collected together in larger packs.
    I ventured a far distance from any nearby houses, taking the path away from the main road and entering the secluded pits of the night jungle. Even so, as I beckoned Lock to me, I had my eyes on full alert watching out for any curious spies who might be following me. Lock enjoyed making me beg for him, I could faintly hear the breeze picking up his light chuckles.
    “Yeah, yeah, what do you want now?” That same smirking smile spread across his face as he reformed in front of me, his eyes so dilated and glistening that he took one step beyond handsome and actually became pretty. I would never tell him this of course; I would think he would just as quickly set a goon on me for that.
    “What took you so long? I’ve been calling for two hours?”
    “Master never answers Slave on command...” He beamed that rubbery grin again.
    “Well that’s the problem. Come with me; I want to talk to you.” I was more than that pleased that my voice didn’t shake as I beckoned him to follow and he swooped down beside me, staying in visible form as we crept towards a large abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. I knew about it from dad’s stories. The large tin walls and roof threw slaps of thunder back into the rumbling clouds. It was dark and sinister; the only light came from the flashes of lightning as it blazed across the sky. Finding the only patch of moonlight leaking in through the high windows, I walked towards the centre of the room as Lock buzzed above my head, dipping along the rafters and toying with the wisps of chains in his hands, his boyish laugh jumping around walls.
    “Alright Lock, can I talk seriously with you for a bit, please?” I tried my best to hold a firm stance, my voice echoing around the tin box, following his excited trail. Lock stopped sharply and lingered in the air with his arms crossed.
    “It’s really simple. Haven’t you been paying attention to the old man at all?” I bit my tongue, annoyed, but Lock continued on before I had the chance to reply. “Things in the Spirit World aren’t as you pictured them in your story books. It’s much more twisted, unfair and corrupt than you could ever imagine. Even now, if it were standing right in front of you, you’d just shake your head and tune it out. People are all the same, just stupid and ignorant.”
    “Just try me; I’m a very open-minded person.”
    “I doubt that very much,” he sneered, “The Staff is a portal that will allow us to enter the Third Realm. That’s what we’re looking for.”
    “But you call yourself Banished. How did you become a Banished?” I interrupted.
    “The ones that kill themselves or have killed another become