We Thought It Was a Toy

It was 2006, and the leaves were turning crisp; perfect for stomping on in my eleven-year-old days. 

It was also the year that my interest in the supernatural severly piqued.

It was raining outside, and since I was visiting my Father for the weekend, he would not let me outside because of the wetness. I had to stay inside and content myself with being socially awkward with cousins I barely even knew (Mom deemed his side of the family to be a 'bad influence' on my and my siblings' behavior, so she didn't let us around them). No one was home with us, so eventually a conversation was started. Accordingly, I subsequently became involved. I learned that I had a cousin named Sherry and she had a sister named Piper. Our power had went out hours and hours earlier and so we decided that the best plan of attack on boredom was to trade stories pertaining to the supernatural: some were complete bull, some were eerie, and some were just for fun. As a group, we decided we would tackle our curiosity by using a Ouija Board. Aunt Shirley was very religious; she didn't condone the existance of such things within her house. That's okay, though. 

If we couldn't find a board, we would simply make one.

Together we hunted down a sheet of paper and relied on the light filtering through the blinds to write the alphabet A-Z, 0-9, 'YES', 'NO' and 'OUIJA' in their respective locations in relativity to their places on an actual board. We slapped a blank CD down on the paper and called it a day. We then moved into the spare bedroom that no one used. It was nice and clean, and a perfect place for our preteen shenanigans. Sherry retrieved the candelabra from the dining room table, lit it with my Aunt's cigarette lighter, and placed our hands on the disc. For the first thirty minutes or so, we got no responses. None. Sherry began talking about how "this game sucks!" and that "we should throw it away, it's stupid!" when the disc jerked our hands so that the finger hole would hover over "NO". Of course, the round of accusatory "you totally moved it!" floated around and we took our turns saying it, but none of us would fess up to it. So, headstrong and intent that it had to be one of us moving it, we began asking it things from the usual tedium, like: "What's your name?" and "How old are you?" It never specified an age, and it would only give us initials ("S.A.T."). Since S corresponded with the first letter of Sherry's name, we began pushing the blame on her. She kept telling us again and again that she wasn't moving it. I, in a bold attempt to prove that she was lying, said; "Alright, then! If you'r really not Sherry, move something!"

Needless to say, we didn't have to wait long. The mirror nearly detached itself from the dresser with the way it clattered back against the wall, connecting on the left and then the right side. Scared out of our minds, we fled the room. We only blew replaced the candelabra and CD when we heard Aunt Shirley's car door slam, signalling that she was home. As for the paper, we crumpled it up and flushed it down the toilet.

When I think back on it, it was the most terrifying moment of my life. Thankfully, nothing followed me out of the session. 

~ sp00k-e 

I will never ever touch another one, fake or not, in my life.