Paranormal Injustice

Chapter 1
When you think of the paranormal you think of things being thrown, weird sounds, and unexplained phenomena, and you wouldn't be wrong but there's more to it. Ask yourself,

why would a ghost do these things? Could it be that they want to be known in the vast empty plane filled with nothing but their loneliness? Could it be they are upset due to the fact their existence is often mistaken for something similar but more sinister?

Just how aware are they that even they exist? What would a ghost gain by making these sounds except communicating the best way they can? How would you feel if you finally met someone who could notice you and they got scared and called some 'experts' to get rid of you?

I've always wondered this myself, and that is how I eventually found myself in an old basement of an abandoned two bedroom house. The house was beyond run down (it was evident by looking at the walls), the paint was almost gone. The house itself was nothing special when it had been first built and that remains the same. Now, the yard was overgrown, boards covered the windows in weak efforts to keep out teenagers, and a foundation threatening to give out.

Inside were bottles filled with who knows what, a smell illuminated the house. The smell (I would later learn to be the tears of the supernatural) wasn't bad, it just had a slight sorrowness that made my nose feel runny. It was just me and my flashlight.

I make a sentimental walk down the hall and with every step memories, some good and others come along with the wish that I could forget them entirely flood in. A turn down the hallways reminds me of the time I had been playing with one of my dolls, but before the memory can sprout and grow I'm making my way to the basement.

Old wooden stairs shout loudly at my gentle steps down into the basement. It is mostly the same except for some scattered trash and broken bottles here and there. I take a deep breath and I'm taken back. It's not a pleasant memory but one that has never shortened or extended since it happened.

It had been the typical day in my household, mom was in her bed with the door closed, my dad tired from his long shift at work, and my constant questions about the world I was nonconsensually brought into. The only thing that made this day different from our typical evening was the scream of my mom's in her bedroom.

My dad, worried, ran into the room inside as my mom was seemingly floating in the middle of her room. A silver ring shined brightly on her ring finger, the pattern of sheep stood out to me. Everything that had once been on top of shelves or the dresser had now littered the floor. Her eyes were pale white and she was muttering something under her breath, "I promise, I promise, I promise" she stopped, then continued "I will give it to her, I swear it, I swear it". Veins in her head popped out, her skin had turned an unnatural pale, her hair was starting to grey rapidly and then it suddenly stopped.

The intense pressure that once filled the room had ceased to exist like it had never once been there, my mom's hair had turned back to its original blond and she floated gracefully and slowly to the floor.

What she meant, I would soon figure out. I leave the long vast way out of my mind and back into reality as I pull up a tile that would never be noticeable unless you knew it was there. Inside is a dirty cubby with a wooden box, stained with dirt, half open. I picked it up, knowing this was what I wanted and came here for. Inside the box is a bunch of letters. There's also what looks to be an empty old leather back notebook with what I presume to be a pen, it's old and one of those pens you have to dip in ink before you can use.

A special container of ink with no label sits just above it, and I grab both of them. The final item in the box fills me with reminiscences of the past as I grab it. The item itself doesn't look special; it looks to be an old silver ring, it has the words "gerunt me si woah ad me" plastered onto the bottom. The phrase roughly translates to "wear me if you wish to see me" on the top is a pattern, the pattern looks like sheep running and jumping over a fence.

The ring, despite being over a century old (according to my mom) looks to be in peak condition, it feels heavy in my hand.

The ring in me begins to glow. I always wondered if my mother would be okay. She was always in her room and my father told me she had been very sick. I wipe away the tears as I slide the ring slowly on my finger, just as I had for the first time many years ago.

My thoughts leave me, I wonder the halls of the plane I was once in but am lost to the unconsciousness that takes over.

"Hey Laura, nice to see you again." A baritone voice I was once familiar with beckons at every corner of my mind. "Did you miss me? He lets out a sound that sounds like a laugh.

"Absolutely not" I say but not really, more like I think. I'm not sure where I'm currently at. What I do know is that it exists outside of our world.

"Then why would you put the Exspiravit Anulum on?" His voice is full of amusement and it fills me with what I can only presume is anger.

"Not for you, if I could exorcise you without damaging the Exspiravit Anulum I would." I say sternly. "Don't be so full of yourself, you know this ring possesses more power than the displeasure of having to talk to you." My voice is monotone, because I want it to be. That's exactly what he wants, that's exactly what Lamori wants.

"Sheesh, that's a bit harsh. Reminds me of someone who used to wear the same ring you do now." He paused for a moment and I knew what he was about to say, "oh yeah, that was your mother. How is she by the way?" I feel my hands ball into a fist and if I could have spit I would have.

"Thanks for reminding me why I got rid of you in the first place." Thoughts, not mine flood in, 'she's so grown now' the thoughts were my mother's. I could have jumped in happiness, if I had such control over my body. More thoughts flood in, questions of 'how have I been?' And 'why did you come back' fill my brain. My happiness fell short as I heard the end of every thought; a deeper voice that belonged to Lamori crept into the backs of those thoughts.

Asshole I thought to myself.

"That isn't my only new trick" Lamori's voice was filled with joy that annoyed every part of me. "I won't let you get the best of me ever again."

"I highly doubt that" and it was the truth, if I could get rid of the Exspiravit Anulum when I was 12 I could do it at the age of 25. I can finally feel my mind and grab a hold of it and eventually I'm conscious again.