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Best Not To Mess With Ouija

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Every paranormal thriller that stars one of these intriguing little boards shows a bunch of unsuspecting teenagers having stupidly acquired one, after being warned not to mess with it, sitting around attempting to speak to the dead.  Before long they are being haunted, demonized, and murdered until the hero or heroine destroys it once and for all … or so they think.

It was the summer of 1999 and we were living on Long Island.  My cousin had told us about a friend of his, Mike, whose mother was allegedly a witch.  Mike lived alone with his mom in this creepy old house not unlike the one from  the Amityville horror.  There were rumors that the house was haunted, and that black magic spells were being performed there by Mikes mother and those from her coven, but there was never any real proof.

Mikes mother was away and it was decided that he was going to have a party, and we were all invited. We were told to bring sleeping bags in case people wanted to crash.  My cousin and I couldn’t resist as we had a penchant for creepy houses, and possible hauntings, plus Mike was really fun.

Being intuitive myself, the moment we pulled up to the house I could feel a strange vibe.  It wasn’t particularly evil, it was just strange.  My concerns faded quickly when Mike threw open the front door dressed in a Hawaiian shirt blasting Bob Marley.  You could smell the BBQ in the back and I was starving so any thoughts of ghosts quickly disappeared.

There were only a handful of us who stayed after midnight.  We were all gathered in Mikes living room when Andy, a handsome yet completely clueless young lad had a fantastic idea.

“Hey Mike, let’s go up in the attic and check out your moms voodoo psychic shit.”  Andy would be the first to be killed if this was a movie.

“I don’t know man.  She specifically told us to stay out of there.”

Becca leaned in seductively.  She was a beautiful girl with sun streaked hair and perfect features. She would be killed second for sure, most likely while having sex with Mike.

“Come on.  I want to see.  I’ve heard so much about this place.”

Becca licked Mikes ear and before we knew it, we were in the attic.  There were so many amazing things to see; crystal balls, tarot decks, candles of all colors, books, and of course a very old Ouija board.  Now when I say Ouija Board I am not talking about the board game.  This thing was carved out of wood and the planchette was made of pure crystal.  This board did not speak of fine family fun as in a hasbro game, this thing meant business.

Becca (of course) grabbed it. “Look at this! Oh my god we have to do this.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I piped up.  Becca stem rolled me with her eyes.  In an ironic plot twist, if looks could kill, I’d be dead.

“Mikey. Can we please try this?”

Mike hesitated. “I don’t know…” Another ear lick followed and we were suddenly downstairs sitting around the board.

The only light we could see was from the moon and the many candles Andy and my cousin had lit.  Mike and my cousin put their hands on the planchette.  Becca began.

“Are there any spirits in this house that wish to speak with us?”

“We probably should protect ourselves with white light before we do that.” I casually mentioned.

I was just resurrected and killed again by Becca.  “It’s your soul babe.” I said defensively.

“Shut it.” came the response

Slowly the planchette began moving across the board. First a G.  Then an E.  Followed by and T.  Next came an O.  Then a U, and finally a T.

Becca was writing down the words as Mike and my cousin moved the planchette.  “I can’t quite make it out.”

“It says get out. ” I chimed in.

“Will you please shut up.” Becca spat at me.

“Holy shit!” screamed Mike.  The board was going back and forth, ‘ M A M A G A G A.’

“Mama Gaga” yelled my cousin as their fingers raced along the board.  I thought for a moment they were just messing with us until I saw the look on their faces.

“Fuck this thing.” screamed Mike and he flung the planchette.  Mike grabbed the board and without thinking, broke it clean in half.  He grabbed both pieces, opened the front door, and chucked it out.  Mike would be the hero that returns for the sequel.

We sat in an uneasy silence. “Let’s just go to bed.” Mike said.  “I’ve had enough of this shit.”

We blew out the candles, grabbed our sleeping bags and tried to forget what had just happened.  Before any of us could really get comfortable, the doorbell rang.

“Who the fuck could that be?” said Andy.

“Don’t open the door.” I said.  Everyone rolled their eyes at me.  I see my self as the voice of reason, they see me as the buzz kill.  There really is nothing common about sense.

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Mike threw open the door with a baseball bat in hand.  No one was there.  He looked left, then right.  Nothing.  Then he looked down.  There, sitting at his feet was the Ouija Board… and it was completely put back together.

We don’t know what ever became of that board, because we didn’t stick around to find out.   I grabbed all my shit and ran out of the house dragging my cousin with me.  You see, I would have been the girl who lived in the movie, not because I am particularly beautiful or special but because I am smart enough to know that when a spirit tells you to “Get Out” … you get the fuck out.

Keep Seeking,

TPJ

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Every paranormal thriller that stars one of these intriguing little boards shows a bunch of unsuspecting teenagers having stupidly acquired one, after being warned not to mess with it, sitting around attempting to speak to the dead.  Before long they are being haunted, demonized, and murdered until the hero or heroine destroys it once and for all ... or so they think.

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