Darkness was beginning to fall. “Almost time. Just a few more hours and it will be October 31st, All Hallows Eve.” I anticipated.
I had been playing with my Oujia Board all afternoon, and got uneventful results. Everyone in the Occult knows that the the best time to contact the dead is after midnight, especially at 3:00am, also known as “The Witching Hour.” There are several theories as to why supernatural activity is peaked during this hour. One theory is that it is mocking Christ's death. Jesus died on the cross at 3:00pm, and since Satan likes degrading HIM in any way he can, he sends his demons out into the world to wreak havoc at 3:00am. Another theory is that 3:00am is when the Church of Satan's mass lets out, so all the negative entities are dispersed into our world at the same time. Both concepts are hogwash if you ask me. I believe that 3am is an hour of the night that is the quietest. A lot of people are sleeping, or at least aren't out and about so much, so the world is more serene. I just think we can communicate with them more easily then, because outside stimuli makes it easier for us to “hear” them. All of the factors just seem to be in place for them to have the best chance of speaking to us at that time.
I talked to Addison for a while today. Addison is the spirit of a nine year old boy that died from Tuberculosis in 1889. His parents sent him to a clinic when they had found out that he contracted the infection. Tuberculosis clinics in those days were a joke, just a way of getting government funding. They didn't have successful treatment methods, and the patients were often abused from unsanitary conditions and crowded living quarters. Most patients ended up dying there. Addison died three months after he was admitted to the clinic. He told me that Dr. Peterson practiced experimental procedures on him, which resulted in his death.
Addison was such a sweet boy, and helpful too. One day, when I was running late for work and I couldn't find my keys anywhere. I turned the house upside down searching for them, but had no luck finding them. Already late for work, I decided to get out my Ouija Board and ask for help. Addison answered. He told me to look in the pocket of my jeans I was wearing the day before, which were in the washer at the time. I rifled through the soaked pocket and, to my surprise, found my keys exactly where Addison said I'd find them. That's not the only time Addison has been a great friend. A short time ago, I was planning to go out drinking with some friends from work, when I got the sudden feeling to get out the Ouija Board. I was supposed to leave in five minutes to meet my friends, but I couldn't ignore this feeling I had. I felt like I HAD to play. When I asked the board if anyone was there, it was Addison again. He quickly spelled out, “Ash no go.”
“No go? Why should I no go?” I asked him.
“R – E – C – K. D – I – E.” Addison spelled out.
“Are you saying I'm going to die in a car accident if I go out with my friends, Addy?” I asked. The planchette moved speedily to the word, “Yes.”
I took his advice, and called my friends to tell them that something had come up, and I couldn't make it out with them. The next morning the local newscaster had announced that three people had died in an accident involving a car wrecking into a gasoline tanker. The truck hauling the gas exploded when a sedan carrying two passengers lost control of their vehicle and slammed into it. It was at the exact time that I was talking to Addison through the Ouija Board, when I was supposed to be on my way to meet my friends, driving on the very road where the accident took place. Addison saved my life. As soon as I saw that story on the news, I ran to get my Ouija Board to thank Addy for warning me.
Some occult followers believe that ghosts can see events that will occur in the future because of where they reside. Spirits are said to inhabit the Astral Plane, which is another plane of existence where Heaven and Hell are said to belong. Things that occur on the Astral Plane are different than in the physical realm. It is said that events of the past, and future can be viewed here. That's why psychics and mediums can predict the future and communicate with the dead, respectively. All supernatural entities are thought to belong to this plane of existence. When one channels a spirit by means of a Ouija Board, dowsing rods, or some other form of divination, they are opening up a portal to our world for these supernatural beings to use. The problem with that is, you can't control who or what comes through that portal. It could be anyone from Gandhi, to a deceased relative, to a demon, or even the Devil himself who comes through that gateway. Another problem is that, you can't always shut the portal when you wish to. Sometimes they remain open, and you may not always like the frequency of visitors.
“I know I shouldn't be playing the board alone.” I thought. “At least Addison will be here to protect me. He's my spirit guide.” I concluded.
I watched a movie one time called, “Witchboard” where the main character played with a Ouija Board at a party, and was so captivated by it, that she went out the next day and bought one to play on her own. Her friend warned her about playing with it by herself because it invited the spirit into her body to borrow her energy in order to manifest itself. The protagonist didn't listen and ultimately ended up getting possessed by an evil spirit.
“It's only a movie.” I thought at the time. After a little research online, I actually found out that the movie's depiction of the consequences of playing a Ouija Board solo were true. Ghosts feed off of our energy to manifest themselves in the physical world. In essence, we invite them into our bodies when we communicate with them. This is actually considered the slightest form of possession. The more you play alone, the more control the spirit has over you. When you play with a group of friends, the spirit divides its energy among the lot, and has less control over any single person.
Now ghosts are tricky little beings. A lot of them like to lie, and will manipulate you into thinking that they are someone that they are not. Quite often a spirit will gain your trust by telling you that they are your grandmother that passed on, or even an angel. I believe Addison when he tells me that he's only a nine year old boy who tragically died. After all, if he wanted to hurt me or possess me, then why would he have saved my life by warning me that day? Even after reading up on the dangers of playing a Ouija Board alone, I still continue to do it. Addison was so sweet, and wouldn't harm a fly. He enjoyed my company, and often asked me if I would be his mommy, to which my reply was always, “Yes sweety, I'll be your mommy. You can stay with me as long as you like.” And he was more than welcome to do so.
I didn't have many friends those days. Most of my friends and coworkers thought I was bat shit crazy for messing with spirits. They didn't understand how addicting it was, and how helpful they can be, not to mention that the conversation is better with ghosts than I ever had with the living. They didn't understand me, nor did they want any part of my, “Witchcraft.” I wasn't a witch, I didn't practice spells, and I most certainly was NOT a Devil worshiper. I just thought of myself as very spiritually open-minded. I was in tune with my sixth sense, and knew that there was just so much more out there than society would have me believe. I was part of something larger, something so much more important than the trivial occurrences of everyday life in the physical world. I could actually communicate with ghosts, and could potentially unlock the forbidden secrets of Pandora's Box...and I loved every minute of it!
It was 3:00am, time to see what I can learn from our unfleshly friends on this wonderful Halloween night. I lit a candle and turned out all of the lights. I cozied up in my hoodie, put on some light music, and got out my Ouija Board. I liked to meditate for five minutes to open up my mind, and sixth sense by clearing my mind of all thoughts not pertaining to the supernatural.
Once I felt good and relaxed, both mentally and physically, I placed my fingers lightly on the planchette and asked, “Is there anyone here with me?”
No response. “That's ok.” I thought. Sometimes it takes a few minutes for them to...The planchette began to move as I felt a sudden rush of anxiety rush over me. The air seemed to thicken up in my bedroom.
The planchette moved to the word, “Yes.”
“What is your name?” I called out.
The planchette picked up speed as it rushed to spell out,
“A – D – D – I – S – O – N.”
“Hey Addy, I'm so glad you're here. How are you?” I asked.
“S – C – A – R – E – D.” He spelled out.
“Why are you scared?” I asked my ghostly friend.
No response. No movement. Nothing happened.
“Come on, Addy. Talk to me.” I said sincerely.
The planchette began moving incessantly around the board, not spelling out anything. The anxiety I had started to feel had grown worse, and the air was as thick as a bowl of hearty pea soup now. My heart began beating fast, as I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. A cold draft rolled over my spine, and instantly gave me goosebumps. I knew that Addison was no longer there. This was someone else. I shook off the cold and asked,
“Who is here with me now?”
The planchette slowed its pace and spelled out the name, “Sir Reodlive.”
“How old are you, Sir Reodlive?” I asked him.
The planchette moved to the number 2, followed by the number 2.
“Twenty two.” I acknowledged. “How did you die?” I asked next.
“S – O – R – D.” He spelled out.
“Sword, man ghosts are horrible spellers.” I thought.
“Were you a knight?” I asked Sir Reodlive.
The planchette moved across the board to the word, “Yes.”
Sir Reodlive went on to tell me that he was a knight during the crusades, and came across a villager that was more skilled with a blade than he. The villager challenged him to a duel, and Sir Reodlive lost, fatally. Sir Reodlive left behind a wife and young child when he was killed. I couldn't help but feel bad for him.
I concluded that this spirit must trust me to confide in me about the pain of missing his family. I decided to ask him some schoolgirl questions about my own future. The first of which was, “Who am I going to marry?”
Sir Reodlive replied with the name, “Michael.”
“That's funny. I don't know any Michaels.” I thought.
“You don't know him yet.” He responded.
“Wow, I didn't even say that out loud, I just thought it. This must be a powerful spirit.” I decided.
“Very.” Sir Reodlive added.
This was creepy, even for me. The fact that a spirit could hear my thoughts was enough to make me quit playing. I put the Ouija Board back in the box, turned on the lights, and blew the candle out. I had enough for one night.
I tucked the Ouija Board away in the closet, and went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. I ignited the burner, and sat the teapot down on the burner. I walked into the living room to find something to watch on tv while waiting for the water to boil.
“Nothing on except old horror flicks.” I said. “So who do I want to spend the rest of my evening with: Freddy, Jason, or Michael Meyers?” I asked myself.
“Well Mikey, looks like it's just you and me tonight honey.” I decided. I turned the channel to “Halloween Resurrection,” and then walked back to my bedroom to put on my pajamas. When I turned on the bedroom light I was surprised to find the closet door opened with the Ouija Board laying upside down on the floor in front of the closet. I bent over and picked up the box to inspect it...”Weird.” I thought. I placed the Ouija Board back on the top shelf of the closet and closed the door.
The bedroom door slammed shut. I was scared now. I tried opening the door, but it somehow got locked from the outside. I pulled on the handle, and twisted the knob with all my might, but it wouldn't budge. Thinking one of my coworkers was a Halloween prank on me, I yelled through the door,
“Ok, you guys. This isn't funny anymore. I'm really scared, you can open up the door now.”
I waited a few seconds, but no response. I started beating my fists on the door and screamed in anger,
“Open up the damn door. This really isn't funny. The joke's over, now let me the hell out of here.”
There was no response. I did hear something on the other side of the door though. It was a faint scratching noise. Something was lightly dragging its nails up and down the door. I panicked!
I ran over to the window on the other side of the bedroom and nervously fumbled trying to open it. It wouldn't budge. It was locked. I quickly unlocked it with a shimmer of hope in sight, as I looked out into my yard where I would so desperately seek refuge from whatever things thing was scratching on my bedroom door. I lifted up on the bottom of the window, but it was still firmly secured. I checked the lock again, and it was unlocked. Again, I tried heaving the window hoping it would open, but found no such luck. I was sobbing hysterically and screaming for help. I was trembling so bad that I could no longer stand on my own two feet. I dropped to my knees with fear as I crawled over to the phone. I reached up on the nightstand to grab the phone, but instead I knocked the whole stand over. Crying harder than I've ever cried before, I picked up the receiver of the phone and put it up to my ear as I dialed “911.”
The operator came on.
“Oh, thank God.” I said shakily.
“We're sorry, your call cannot be completed at this time. Please hang up the phone and try your call again.” The automated operator said.
“Shit.” I said as I hung up the phone and again dialed, “9 – 1 – 1.”
“I'm sorry, your call cannot be completed....”
“NO!” I screamed. “Why is this happening?” I managed to ask through the sobs.
The tea kettle started whistling now, echoing throughout the house. Still violently shaking I decided to try the bedroom door one more time. I crawled over to it, and put my ear against the door to make sure the coast was clear. I heard nothing, except for the teapot whistling. I slowly put my hand up to the knob, twisted it and...
“RING, RING, RING.”
The phone started ringing. Still hazy, I realized that I must have fallen asleep last night while waiting to play with the Ouija Board during the witching hour. The board was still sitting on my lap. I walk into the kitchen, and pick up the phone.
“Hello.” I answer.
“Hello, Hello. Anybody there?” I ask.
Click. I hang up the phone and walk back into the living room, taking my spot on the couch.
“Man, that was some crazy dream I had last night.” I thought.
I garb the Ouija Board and set it back onto my lap.
“Is there anyone here with me?” I ask.
The planchette spells out the name, “Sir Reodlive.”
“How can that be?” I ask. “It was only a dream, wasn't it?”
Just then I realize something. The name, Reodlive is “evil doer” spelled backwards.
“Oh my God!” I cry.
© Copyright 2016 Matthew Zabala. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Fantasy
Poem / Religion and Spirituality
Essay / Travel
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