The night was calm, dark and still. To this day, I remember it extremely well. However, many a year ago, it was a Saturday, a horror story of bold. Two other girls and I, together we were three, collected around a board known as the Ouija. Slowly, we placed our fingertips upon a small piece of wood called the planchette, dreading impending moments of regret, with fears of memories we wouldn’t forget.
With bated breath we deeply inhaled, then proceeded to ask things in great detail. For with the hereafter we wanted to converse, in a series of questions that were unrehearsed, like “is there anyone here?” and “how did you die?”. Then seconds later we got a reply. As scary as it was we were told “yes”. One simple word that made us become speechless. For we weren’t the ones who had replied, it was quite obvious by the fear in our eyes.
We continued with questions of more and we were answered with terror galore. With whom we had reached from the other side, was trying to come through with nothing to hide. Their answers were clear and their actions then too, for they were knocking over candles in the adjoining room. A room unoccupied with only a dim glow except for the entity’s unwanted show. Their presence was felt with heavy intent and we three girls were starting to resent unleashing this darkness that wasn’t fervent.
We stopped that night all due to fright and quickly put the board away locked up and tight. Our hearts raced without skipping a beat from what we had just witnessed that made the facts concrete. And even though it’s been so many years since that night with the swelling of tears, never again in front of me has there ever been another board known as the Ouija.
(A poem by Sheila Renee Parker inspired by one of her actual paranormal experiences.)
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