Free My Demonic Ghost: Banished Spirits by Jacinta Maree Page B

letting myself out.   

Chapter Eight:
     
    The sky was bleak and ghostly grey as the cool breeze blew past me; fallen leaves crunched underfoot, my boots still deeply coated with drying mud. I entered the roads again, heading down to the market at the end of the road, the concrete dipping and bending with the steep curve of the hill. The noise grew in volume as I neared the final bend.
    The streets were busy; it being a Sunday and all, as the townspeople patted each other on the back with their hellos and followed each other from store to store, tittering away like flightless birds. Being so small in numbers, it was easy for people to live in each other’s pockets; a burden I had begun to identify with by Lock’s constant presence lingering around me. But he wasn’t here now. Suddenly I felt lonely and took back those thoughts; it wasn’t THAT bad of a burden . By this point, I had received a few glances by the locals; the men tipping the bills of their hats as I smiled at them, and the women dropping their gazes back onto their grocery bags to avoid eye contact. In such a secluded area, it was easy to presume they all knew whose daughter I was and that George wasn’t the most favourable neighbour to have. I was already an outcast before even really getting the chance to fit in.
    The marketplace was made up of fish sales, vegetable stores, homemade cutlery, and quilt stores; all lined up alongside each other in tiny huts with swinging signs outside their doors. Everything was upside down, even the chatter among the people were different. City people talked into their phones, not to each other. Absentminded as I was, I accidently stepped on an uneven brick and tripped myself, the envelopes taking flight as I spread my hands open to catch the ground. The bundle bounced off, landing next to the curb. I could feel my cheeks glow. That was not a graceful fall.
    Another pair of hands had bent down just as I extended mine, and together we bumped knuckles while reaching for the envelopes. I glanced up to notice soft, walnut brown eyes heightened only by a roaring mane of hair, drenched in too much hair gel; a fiery red that darkened to black as it reached the roots.
    His skin was tanned a soft syrupy orange; his tight jaw, thin lips, and small button nose making him look almost unreal, doll-like even. I had had to catch myself from reaching out and stroking his cheek, wondering what he felt like. He gave me a crooked smile as I stood up.
    He had a soft and gentle visage; an oval face sat high on his long neck, giving a streamlined look to his lean body; his wide eyes the perfect counterbalance.  In a moment I completely forgot about Lock, asleep in my bed back at home. I could feel deep sparks of electricity fly off our faces, making it almost impossible not to give in and capture him quickly, before he disappears.
    “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled.
    “That’s okay. Thanks.” His eyes, intense, full and intrigued, stayed locked on mine. I gawked at him as if he was a talking bear.
    “You’re not from around here, are you?” The voice flowed through me like a musical wave, causing the soles of my feet to become weights, holding me fast in place. I nodded my head shyly and reached to take the parcel, noticing how he immediately dropped his hand so our fingers wouldn’t touch. What’s wrong with me? He wouldn’t let my eyes go; staring so boldly at me that, even if it wasn’t on purpose, at some point in time he would’ve felt the uncomfortable tension and been forced to glance away.
    “I’m actually from the city. This place is… strange to me.”
    “Strange?” His smile dipped but only for a second, “I find it peaceful. You must not be used to it yet, don’t worry it’ll grow on you. I can show you where the Post Office is if you’d like? Most city folk seem to look for a red tin box instead of an actual store.”
    “Thanks, that’ll help a lot,” I said.
    The boy stepped back,