“Hey it’s moving!”

H-E-L-L-O

“Whoa.”

“Ask it something.”

“Ok. Ok. Can you hear us?”

YES

“Told you this was cool.”

“Go on, ask it again.”

“What’s your name?”

B-I-L-L-Y

“It said it’s name is Billy.”

“Hi Billy. Welcome to our home.”

T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U

“It’s responding again. Awesome.”

“What do you want, Billy?”

P-L-A-Y

“Play? You want to play?”

YES

“Are you a friendly spirit?”

NO

“No?”

“What are you?”

D-E-M-O-N

“It just said demon!”

“I don’t like this anymore.”

P-L-A-Y

“Make it stop!”

“Wait, there’s more!”

R-E-A-D-Y-O-R-N-O-T

H-E-R-E-I-C-O-M-E

“Let’s get out of here!”

9-8-7

“MAKE IT STOP!”

“I CAN’T. THE FIGURE’S STUCK TO THE BOARD!”

6-5-4

“I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A BAD IDEA!”

“SHUT UP!”

3-2

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!”

1

“It stopped. It’s over. I think we’re safe now. What’s wrong?”

“B-B-Behind...”

F-O-U-N-D-Y-O-U

#Horror #Paranormal #HarryHorrors

Burn

Was the

Echo

In my

Head 

Burn

Was

What

the Board

Had

Said

Burn

was What

the Candles

Did

As

the Room

Was Set

a Light

Burn

Is What

She Said

As She

Melted

In

the Night

Burn

Is What

the House

Did

All

In Flames

Burn

Is How

the Memory

Remains

#B27321

When the Ouija board

was passed around

we summoned the spirits

to guide our hands

we channeled our demons

and the letters spelled out,

“It’s a boy!”

I wasn’t even pregnant

but opened my eyes wide

to the dark conduit

and waited for my son.

I had two daughters

but never a son

divorced my husband

married again

now had two stepsons.

Clouds of belief

rained on my doubts

aurora of Ouija board

illuminated my shadows.

KNOCK KNOCK.

"For heaven's sake, I heard you knocking. I'm here, aren't I? It doesn't need spelling out," says Martha, drying the frying pan with a tea towel and wandering over to the table.

FACEPALM.  Tim's vocabulary was down with the grandkids.

"What? Were you telling a joke?"

YES YOU TW-

“Language, Timothy,” warns Martha sternly as she reclines into her armchair. The glass just stops short of reaching “A”.

"Alright then.... Who's there?"

H.

The glass hops up and down on this letter a few times.

"H... er, H..." This better be good, mutters Martha under her breath. "H who?"

BLESS YOU.

Martha groans. "I see the afterlife's doing nothing to improve your comedic talents."

TIME FOR SOMETHING NEW.

"Go on then, spit it out. I've things to get done."

SLAPSTICK.

The frying pan hovers in the air behind her and gives her a resounding hit on the head, knocking her dentures out into the glass.

HA HA, spells Timothy, making Martha's teeth rattle.

Burn everything.

The house,

the board.

I'd move to another country,

change my name,

dye my hair.

No way it would find me now.

But wait...

It lives within me.

HELP ME, MATT!

The last thing I wanted to do was go to a fortune teller with my friends. Now I feel all of their eyes on me. I only admit to myself that I am a bit creeped-out about the message we got. Unless one of my friend's told the fortune teller my name before hand, it was a bit eerie.

"Ok, if I am to play along, how am I suppose to help the ghost we are talking to?" I ask in general, but I am watching the fortune teller specifically.

ITS ANNIE, MATTIE!

I feel my throat drop into my stomach as I flash back twelve years or so. Annie. Fuck. She was the only person on the planet that ever called me Mattie, or could get away with calling me that. The pain of when my folks told me that she died all those years ago, filled me suddenly with the same deep sharpness. Lori, my girlfriend, noticed my change in demeanor. That suddenly, I am taking this a lot more seriously. Everyone came in here as a lark, for a bit of fun all the while I thought it would be a waste of time and money; now all eyes were on me, and I was by no means having fun.

"How?" I ask. The word came out in a croak.

F-

"Where the hell is the rest?" I ask, now my eyes drilling into the fortune teller. "Don't fuck with me. How am I...are we suppose to help her?"

My friends gasp. All of them put together have perhaps heard me curse at someone three times total. All of those times, I was pushed to that limit and it was a slow boil to get there. Right now, I just remember Annie in her coffin, looking at her pretty face for the last time. Bawling uncontrollably as they shut the lid.

"There is nothing else-" the medium began, before her eyes rolled back into her head and the octave of her voice dropped.

"Mattie, please, I do not have much time. Her connection to my world is weak. My killer is here. Now. Hunting me as he did when I was alive...alive in your world. You can stop him though."

"How?" I have a focus, a sudden, clear determination. I raged that anyone would have wanted to kill Annie. She was the sweetest girl, a heart of pure gold in an otherwise ugly world.

"Do you still have anything of mine, anything I gave you?"

"Yes."

"Find him, where they are burying him. He is still not fully in this world yet. If you scar his bones with something of mine, he will be fixated to that scar forever. He won't be able to touch me again. I cannot bare him being able to touch me again. He is getting closer and I am getting tired hiding."

"Who is he?" I ask with a silent rage, barely aware of my friends looking at me like a stranger. Completely oblivious that Lori not only pulled away from me but was weeping openly. She was feeling my pain somehow. She finally knew why I found it so hard to love.

"I don't remember his name, only that he died days ago and that you will know who he is..."

The fortune teller collapsed on the table then, and wept in a wailing cry.

"Wait! Annie? Annie!"

Just tears and wails. I leap across the table and start to shake the woman.

"Bring her back, you have to bring her back. She didn't tell us enough and I have so much I still need to say to her!"

"I am so sorry. It does not work that way. Even if it did, there is not a price you could pay me to make me want to feel that...pain and terror...and anguish again. Nothing! Please. Just Go! Just you touch makes it echo within my soul. Please go, never come back."

I take my hands off of her, and understand the echo she is referring to. Something is awful is echoing within me still. I head for the door.

"Matt, wait..."

I head toward a coffee bar down the street. Step inside, oblivious  if anyone is even following me at this point. What was nonsense two hours ago was now the most real thing in my world. My childhood friend, my first love, who was taken too soon, called for help. Strangely I found I was still willing to do anything for her, no matter how crazy that anything seemed to be.

I sit at one of the open public computers in the bar and look up the obituaries of my childhood town. Yesterday's - the day before - the day before that. Then my breath catches and I begin to weep uncontrollably. I can still hear the words that bastard said to me at her funeral.

I am so sorry about little Annie, Matthew. She was such a sweet, sweet, girl.

Old man Rinshaw. It was him. I knew it in my bones. I knew it even then deep down; yet at the time, who would believe a thirteen-year-old kid with just a gut feeling. His funeral was tomorrow. I had a long trip tonight if I was going to make it.

---

Lori, Peter, and Susan came with me. My folks were surprised when I showed up earlier in the morning unannounced. It was their intent to go pay their respects, until I told them otherwise.

"What is wrong, Matt? What is going on? Why are you here?"

"You would never believe me if I told you, but the last thing that bastard deserves is your 'respects'."

My mother looked shocked. My father looked to Lori who only gave him a sympathetic nod.

I went up to my old bedroom, found my one keepsake box that possessed most of my physical memories of Annie. I wept again. I found her simple ring of silver. So small it was, now in my hands. I recall how pissed her mother was when she told her she lost it. Annie made me promise that I would never tell her mom that she gave it to me as a separate, special promise. I wore it upon my neck, hidden for years. Until I finally had to put it aside. I had to try to move on. Now it would be the weapon I needed. I dug into a different box and found an old, dull pocket knife. But, sharp enough to be of use.

We arrived at the funeral home a short time later. My current love and my two best friends. The three people in this world that would walk through hell and back for me, that happened not to be of my blood. We were in hell right now. And escaping it was going to be brutal.

It took everything in my being to feign compassion to Mrs. Rinshaw and her children. I had none. All I could see in my head was that bastard's sick smile that he gave, every time he saw me after Annie's death. That he had a secret about her. That if I knew it, I might want to kill him over it. It was so clear now. I couldn't kill him in this life, but I hoped I could still protect Annie in the next.

I knelt at Rinshaw's coffin for too long. Staring at the man I subconsciously despised for so long. I finally found my will to complete the task, reached in and cut his hand to the bone with my knife. I was barely aware of the screams forming behind me, I suddenly felt a bit more disconnected from my world. I was barely aware of my friends fending off Rinshaw's loved ones as I reached in and ground the silver ring into the gash, trying my damnedest to scar his bone with it. As queer as the notion seemed a day prior, it seemed the most natural and logical thing to do now.

"Matthew O'Donnell!! What in God's sake do you think you are doing?"

"Just helping a dear, old friend," I reply as coldly as I have ever spoken any words. I clutched the ring into my palm, praying to God I did enough.

"You are fuckin' crazy."

"Perhaps. But, at least my soul is in the right place and hopefully, now his is where it deserves to be as well."

My friends ushered me out of there, before anymore damage could be dealt, before I could say anything that I would never be able to take back. I could hear Mrs. Rinshaw weep behind me. If she only knew how much deeper the tears that wouldn't flow now from my eyes were.

---

I am going to find you again, Annie. I cannot wait to see you again, Annie. I cannot wait to touch you again...

Annie suddenly paused. His voice stopped. That evil, despicable voice just stopped. She also realized she didn't feel him chasing her anymore. He stopped hunting her. Did it work? Did what the other spirit tell her to do work?

She could feel her past life nemesis and against her better judgement, she flowed in the direction of his presence. She felt a bit bold, a bit empowered.

Then there he was, clear as day, fully in this place. There he was, and he couldn't touch her. He couldn't move from that one corner. He was in a trap, of partly his own making and partly of Mattie's doing. A box of hell, the other spirit called it. He clawed at his hand, she could she a shine of silver coming from the opening in where he was clawing. And in the faintest of whispers, in the deepest of tears, she heard him say, rapturously, "Oh, I have you now, I see you in that glow of silver. You are just within reach, my pretty little thing..."

He would never be able to touch her again. Annie smiled and thought of the only boy she ever was able to love, and smiled even more.

As one who knows better than to dabble

With the Devils Doorknob, I would never

Receive such a message. That does not mean

I don't understand it.

When you play with forces you don't even begin to understand, sometimes you open up portals to places that are very unsavory to the human condition. Just because one can't see it with ones own vision doesn't mean it's not there.

There are certain ways to handle Ouija boards, one must make sure the portal is closed when finished.

This isn't a simple parlor trick game. It attracts those things that are negative.

If you have one of these boards, I implore you to burn it! Send it back to Hell where it belongs in the name of God the most high the light of the universe. For there is nothing to be gained from evil.

Amen

P.S. There is nothing wrong with free writing or speaking with the other side, I am a clairvoyant myself so I do so often. I am also an Empath, very difficult for me to be in public.

Go in peace now, and be a light to the world.

DHB

Think about what the message has said to me

Some say its meant to be negative

Some say its meant to be positive

When i saw the message i took it as an opportunity

"children will come to the world who aren't who think they are, you will be faced with several test"

The children will be like us, everything we are is what they will be

They will be leading normal lives but the things they do wont be normal

Find the children before they find you for they know who you are and what you are

The wind is nonexistent today, the air is languid. The calmness is despicable to me, but it is by far the least despicable weather the town has seen in recent days. I stand upon the shore of a great body of water, sifting through debris. Yet so little has survived... a scrap of fabric here, a baby doll's disembodied limb there. The storm had been senseless, in a sense, but it had also been frighteningly efficient in its destruction-- nay, deconstruction-- of the cruise ship-- hardly a smidgen of material larger than a fist or so could be found among the wreckage blasted upon the shore but two days ago.

I search for something personal, something irreplaceable. I must must must have a souvenir of the accident, if only to remind myself evermore of what I had seen out my window looking out onto the great body of water. Otherwise I would dismiss the experience within a week; certainly, if anybody else had also seen what I had in the storm, they would have dismissed it within a minute. 

I feel my bare foot brush against against something mostly-buried in the coarse sand, and I lean down to dig it out. Is it personal? No, it's nothing more than a ouija board, the boring commercialized kind, available for a few bucks from the local toy store. I've never used one before-- I've never even had an interest in the occult before the storm. But nonetheless, the plank of wood excites me unbearably, and I race back up towards town, waving the board triumphantly.

On its surface, in sharpie, is scrawled a desperate message, but a few words of a spirit who knows its time in this world is ending: "He has taken Us, He knows who We were, beware the Storm, SOS." 

Are there other messages, on other bits of debris? Perhaps. But those can be found later, a rescue mission can be mounted later (not too much later, of course). For now, one thing matters to me, as I feel my feet slam into the sand, as I race back towards town touting the ouija board up exuberantly, high above my head, a dozen conflicting thoughts and theories spinning about in my cranium, and they all reach one resounding conclusion: I have been verified.

Garett and Jim had just recieved their message from the Ouija board. None of them knew what to make of it.

"Jahrvek? What the hell is that?"

"Beats me. I think it's broken. Wanna grab a sandwich?"

"Eh, why not?"

Both Garett and Jim walked away to grab a sandwich. However, the Ouija board still moved. It spelled Can I have one too? I don't want any Mayo on it.