REALM OF THE POLTERGEIST
Chapter 6: The Transformation
Were they… having fun? Peter felt a strong, inexplicable urge to go see what they were doing. That laughter—it was so infectious, so inviting. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, drawing him in, tugging at something deep inside him. As if in a trance, he moved closer to the sound.
As he walked up to where they were, he saw one of them stick out a tiny leg, tripping a kid in a school cafeteria. The child fell, his tray clattering to the floor, sending milk and food splashing everywhere. The other kids burst into laughter immediately, their voices echoing off the walls.
“OHHHH! HAHAHA!” The poltergeists howled, pointing and giggling with manic glee. Peter chuckled along, the sound slipping out of his mouth before he could stop it.
Wait, what? That’s not funny! he thought, shaking his head, trying to clear it.
He turned to see what they were doing next. One of the creatures scampered over to a food court in a mall, its tiny hands deftly moving a chair just as a woman was about to sit down with a tray of food in her hands. She landed hard on her backside, her dress flying up, her tray crashing down, food splattering everywhere. All around, people turned to look, some of them stifling smiles, others chuckling openly.
“OHHHH! HAHAHA!” The poltergeists roared with laughter, rolling around in fits of hysterics.
And to his horror, Peter burst out laughing, too.
STOP! he told himself, panic rising in his chest. Could he be turning into them?
He felt his feet moving, drawn by an unseen force, wanting to follow them, to see more of their antics. Was he crazy? “Stop,” he said out loud, his voice shaky. “Just stop it! You are not one of them! You are not okay with messing in people’s lives like that!”
But the laughter grew louder, more infectious, wrapping around him like a warm blanket. He heard them again: “OHHHH! HAHAHA!!”
That laugh—it was making him want to… “Hahahaha!” He couldn’t help himself. He laughed again, louder this time.
He started to notice changes. His body felt… different. Smaller. He ran his fingers through his hair. His hair? It felt fluffy, thicker than it should. He looked down, and his eyes widened in terror. He was getting shorter!
“OHHHH! HAHAHA!!”
The pull was getting stronger, like a magnetic force. He could feel himself shrinking. His limbs felt smaller, his head heavier, his teeth… sharper. Frantically, he began touching his body, feeling his bones shift and twist beneath his skin.
That was it! That’s why he hadn’t looked like them before. He was becoming one of them. All it took was one laugh… then another… and another…
“OHHHH! HAHAHA!!”
He felt a rush of exhilaration, like he was being pulled into a current he couldn’t fight. He started running toward them, almost instinctively. As he drew nearer, he realized with a strange sense of clarity that he knew each of their names, their quirks, their patterns of mischief. These were the ones the minister had warned him about.
He was no longer himself. He was now… Spryth. A poltergeist.
Spryth watched as Bones, one of the others, tore a hole in the bottom of a garbage bag just as a man pulled it from the container. Garbage spilled everywhere, scattering across the pavement.
“OHHHH! HAHAHAHA!” they all laughed hysterically.
Spryth felt a burst of joy, a rush of adrenaline. For a moment, it felt… good. But then, he felt a slight pang, a distant echo of who he once was, like a whisper in the back of his mind.
He turned, searching for something, anything to latch onto. Then he saw another scene unfolding below—a man in a business suit walking hurriedly down a crowded street, yelling obscenities into his phone, completely unaware that he was about to step right into a deep puddle. One of the poltergeists grinned and moved to trip him.
The man’s foot slipped, and he fell face-first into the puddle, his phone skidding across the wet ground. Water splashed up, drenching him from head to toe. The surrounding people laughed, some out loud, others just smirking.
“OHHHH! HAHAHA!” The poltergeists laughed louder than ever.
Spryth found himself laughing, too, a grin spreading across his face. He felt exhilarated by seeing someone get what they deserved. The man’s rude, careless words had been answered by a swift, embarrassing consequence. It was like justice, delivered instantly.
They moved to another scene—a mother struggling with a heavy bag of groceries, screaming at her toddler to get off her leg as they clung to her, crying loudly. Her voice was sharp, filled with frustration and exhaustion.
“Just let go, you little brat!” she snapped, shaking the child off roughly.
A poltergeist giggled and pointed, then darted down, tugging at the toddler’s shoelace, causing the child to trip and fall.
The mother lost her balance, her groceries spilling out onto the sidewalk. She let out a frustrated cry, scolding her child as she scrambled to gather her scattered items.
“OHHHH! HAHAHA!” The laughter erupted again, relentless, echoing through the strange misty air.
Spryth hesitated for a moment. He felt a surge of satisfaction at the mother’s sudden misfortune. She was being so mean, so unfair to her child, he reasoned. Maybe she needed a little karma herself. He found himself nodding in agreement with the poltergeists.
But as he watched, he also saw her face soften. The woman stopped yelling and scooped up her child, hugging them tightly. The groceries lay forgotten on the ground as she muttered, “I’m sorry… I’m just… so tired.”
Spryth’s grin faltered. He felt a twinge of something—sympathy, maybe. The laughter around him still rang out, but now it felt different, distant.
Maybe they’re not just playing, he thought. Maybe they’re balancing something out, keeping things even.
He looked around at his companions, the laughter still loud, but suddenly it seemed less menacing, more like a natural force, like a storm passing over the sea.
For a moment, he felt torn, caught between his new role as Spryth, the poltergeist, and the last remnants of Peter, the man who tried to do the right thing. But even as he felt the tension within him, he also understood the simple, brutal logic at play.
What comes around, goes around, he thought. And here, in this strange, twisted place, that truth was more literal than he had ever imagined.
The laughter rose again, louder, brighter, pulling him in with every breath. And somewhere deep inside, the last vestige of Peter began to fade, like a shadow in the bright light of the noonday sun.
He was Spryth now. A poltergeist. And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to think… that might not be so bad after all.
So, you’d better watch what you say and be careful what you do… because in the Realm of the Poltergeist, they’re always watching you.
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