#madam banshee

Just had an urge to what she could look like now since my first illustration of her. And yeah, that snot thing is there too

There’s no telling what situation has led the spirit to this point. One moment they were twisting and ripping the arms of a mortal in their usual spurs of rage and the next they are here.

In the dark.

As the spirit attempts to collect himself and move around something prevents him from doing so. Confused, he tries to power through the sensation that has fallen onto him. It fails.

He tries again.

Fails.

It really does take them a minute to realize that they’re permanently glued to this fixed position. And as the pieces of this situation starts to connect they grow enraged. Far more than before he was brought into the darkness. It’s at this point that the ghost starts to lash out.

Yelling at the top of his lungs as he goes thrashing around. Even if there’s no physical hands holding onto him, the sensation of them can be felt by his ghostly form. There was still plenty in him to keep fighting, yet whatever grip was present has now left. Swiftly leaving the spot he was initially stuck in. Away from the invisible danger.

A sigh of relief left the sprits cracked lips. Aged fingers making sure each part of himself remained intact. That experience was not at all enjoyable. Cursing with the most foulest languages he knew until he felt a presence.

“I’m not alone here.” Whispering to himself as he freely flew around the endless space.

“I know you’re here! Make yourself known, you bastard.” What felt like one presence now turned into multiple and then suddenly two. Whatever he was trying to present as tough in his tone crumbled instantly. Slithering back with hands pulled tightly to their chest. This new sensation was intense. Far more powerful than he had anticipated it would be. Was this fear? Couldn’t be. Shouldn’t be. He causes the fearing. Making the living fear-

“October Pierce Benedict.”

For whatever reason, it made the ghost immediately twist & fly back in fright. Eyes fixed upon this very large spirit that towered over him. Literally. The eyes were plenty enough to keep this ghost still. Reminiscent of swirled blood inside whisky, but the body on this large spirit that glowed a strong shade of green was another thing he made a quick note of. Feeling the pits of where his stomach would be begin to churn.

“In all your time spent as a ghost, you have done far more than scare the mortal beings that stumble into your final resting place. You have disfigured and mauled the many souls in your repeated bouts of rage. Making the soil that bears the fruit grow rotten.”

“Bears the fru- WHO CARES ABOUT SOME DAMN FRUIT! WHERE AM I? WHO THE THE- WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” Teeth gritting as he winces at his own stuttering speech, yet this ghost wanted clear answers from the other.

The large spirit discarded the question. Moving forward with his own.

“Through no hesitation of your own, you have deeply changed the environment and the souls that depend on this land for their survival. I offer this knowledge to you now so that you may have some insight into what you have brought upon the land.”

The ghost scrunched his wrinkled face. Annoyed at the barrages of words, he had to speak.

“I didn’t do jack shit! I’m minding my own damn business. Besides, It’s not my fault that people come bothering me.”

“But they’re not disturbing you. Not in the slightest.” The green specter commented. Continuing as he ruthlessly cuts off October.

“You have the distinction of knowing who’s wronged you. And you’ve already slain the ones that have taken you away from the mortal plain. And yet you appear before me now.”

The ghost huffs, throwing his hands at the specter. “For what, o lord? What sort of way will you smite me?” He mocks.

“By extinguishing you from existence.” He said flat out. Not an ounce of hesitation coming from his mouth. And October at last recognized it. Face dropping as the very words began to settle.

He couldn’t compose himself right, yet he still made an attempt to.

“Nono, you can’t do that. I mean loo- look at me.” Patting his chest with a free hand, chuckling nervously. “I can’t get much deader than this. You can’t extinguish a ghost’s soul.” He doesn’t know a damn thing about what he’s saying. October’s just hoping that this monolithic ghost takes his word and they can go on with something else. Anything else.

The green spirit remains still in both his face and his response towards October. This only causes him to feel more shaken up. His age mixing between a weak old man and a helpless boy.

“You have no concept of how ghosts operate, Mr. Benedict. Do not attempt to hide your ignorance, it’s not working in your favor here.” Eyes narrowed.

“Do you acknowledge that you’ve killed for pleasure more than for protection?” He asked.

“There’s no pleasure here. Especially with you making wild accusat- accusations like that! You don’t know me!”

He speaks once more. “Do you acknowledge that you’ve killed for pleasure more than for protection?”

“STOP SAYING THAT GODDAMMIT. I’VE DONE NO SUCH THING!” Throwing his hands back before he clasps to cover the place where his ears would be.

“Do you acknowledge that you’ve killed for pleasure more than for protection?” The large spirit repeated once more.

Reverberations of that question kept hitting the ghost for what seemed like hours. Denying them each time until he finally he reached his tipping point.

“YES! YES, I DID IT ALL FOR THE PLEASURE! I DID IT TO FEEL SUPERIOR TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO’VE WRONGED ME AND THE CHILDREN THAT WALK THIS VERY PLACE THAT HAS NO NAME.I, OCTOBER PIERCE BENEDICT, HAVE DONE IT ALL BECAUSE I WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO BE BLED DRY AND LEFT AS NOTHING BUT A ROTTING HUNK OF FLES-”

It happened in an instant. The one single clap of the monolithic ghost’s hands. The soul that once was, had become no more. Not even a single trace of the soul’s light remained. It was as if the soul had never even existed.

An inhale an exhale came from the ghost. Feeling nothing but the temporary sting that came from the clap. Though there was no interest in staying in the moment as he was called upon. A spirt, much slender than him, came from the depths of the darkness to approach him.

“I appreciate that you granted me permission to observe your work, Kibosh, sir.” She commented, fixing her violet glasses before she finished writing something down on her clipboard.

“You must if you are going to speak with these souls, Madam Banshee. You have the ability to be heard, but need to remain composed as you speak. No matter how much they protest to their own committed actions.”

She nods, quickly looking towards him after she finished her writing.

“And I value that you have given me this opportunity, sir. If we are all finished here, we can make our leave and attend to other matters.”

“Indeed. Lead the way.”

This isn’t official for “Casper’s Spectral Spectacle”, but never say never!

You know, I don’t think he does. It’s not like it’s below him or anything. It has just never occurred to him to have one.

I think if anything? He’d inquire his most trusted associate, Madam Banshee, on some hobbies that he could dabble in. Out of sheer curiosity.