ghostfinding

The magician walks in places where even shadow fears to tread,

His will burns a cool grey light that shimmers through the air.

Beside him pads a creature clothed in a child’s human guise

Who reaches a small hand for his, is calmed by steady strength.

About them was a penthouse that felt both sterile and sick:

Open-planned, modern-lined, no room for darkness anywhere

But every sound had sullen echo, breath fogged in summer air.

“Jay,” the magician says, waiting for answers he must learn.

“There’th broken bindingth,” Jay lisps, “like a show gone bad.”
The magician silence presses, the boy mouths words in thought.

“On TV, everything ith fixed in half an hour,” he says proudly.

“You don’t say,” the magician says, his tone dry as the dead air.
Jay sticks out his tongue and grins, the darkness flatters slight.

“So there is a problem here that can be fixed with ease?”

“Yup! That,” the boy responds with a pride fit to bursting.

The magician wanders room to room to pause and study them.

Each bedroom boasts a king-sized bed fit for company of kings,

The ten-year old boy is pulled away from pianos fit for gods

And vast TVs adorn each room like idols in modern temples.

“Who haunts a place so full as to be empty?” the magician says

And Jay just shrugs and looks about and no ghost does he see.

The magician studies wooden floors, his magic a soft whisper.

The floors remain untouched and gleam as statues did for kings.

“The movers scratched nothing,” he says and laughs quite soft.

He raises his voice, his power gentle thrum to match the fridge.

“I make a point to not see ghosts and Jay’s nature would destroy

So if you could offer up a sign you’re here we’d be much obliged.”

Drawers shuddered, chairs danced, the place shook short and sharp.

The magician nods and turns to leave, the boy’s silence a trust.

“She hired a poltergeist moving company. I will suggest she pays,”

he says and kills his light, the boy’s pride warmth enough.