Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction
A Ghost Thing By Jessica Parkes
Looking into the dark abyss (or the hallway), I convinced myself that nobody was coming up the stairs. I heard it again, just as I turned back to my mirror: pit, pat, pit, pat… Footsteps seemed to be clambering the staircase with elegance yet brutality. Again, I looked into the desolate, dim hallway, fearing the worse. Were my eyes playing tricks on me, as I saw shadows shape and dance delicately along the walls? Was this just a fantasy? I felt it: the piercing gaze of blighting eyes shattered my confidence into shards of misgiving. It was not just a fantasy…
“Are we gonna do this ghost thing or what?” said Josh with an air of impatience.
“Yes, alright, I’m setting the board up now. Geez.” I replied, also impatiently.
It was All Hallows Eve (or to everyone else, Halloween) and Josh, Zed and I were planning on summoning the deepest demons of Hell! You may be thinking that it’s a terrible idea. You thought right.
“Okay, guys, let’s mess with some spirits!” I announced grandly, as though I had just built furniture from IKEA rather than write the alphabet on a page.
“Let’s get this show on the road…” Gathering around the hand-made board, we all put our hands on the planchette (that’s a rather fancy name for a tiny piece of paper) and closed our eyes. This didn’t make much difference, seeing as we only had 3 candles dotted around the room, creating sullen shadows that pirouetted along the walls, waving wickedly.
“Oh, dark spirits! Is there anyone here?” Josh cried out, quite melodramatically. It moved. As we all opened our eyes, the piece of paper had travelled to ‘yes.’ I was done for the evening.
“Go on, Jen: ask it a question,” pushed Zed.
“Um… what- what is your name?” I shrugged, my voice trembling.
We felt the planchette move steadily across the board, landing on the letter ‘S’. Then ‘A’. Slowly to ‘T’ and then to ‘A’ once more. Finally, the smaller piece of paper landed on the ‘N’… Not even Josh dared speak a word.
I stood up, after 5 minutes of ghastly silence had passed.
“Right, er, I think we’ve done enough. Do you hear me, ya stupid ghosts? Quit messing with us. You’re not Satan!” Quickly, I tore the paper up and burnt it in one of the candles.
“Jen? What did you do? You didn’t say ‘goodbye’ AND you disrespected them!”
“Oh shut up. They’re just ghosts!”…
The hauntings became a normal occurrence after that evening when we messed with that Ouija Board. Satan literally took over my life, giving me another identity of which I never thought possible.
I started acting wildly, like a madman.
I found pleasure in what others would find disturbing, heinous and villainous.
I didn’t have a soul nor did I have a mind of my own. I was possessed, twisted; distorted, beyond repair.
Somehow, I wasn’t one personality anymore. I was truly two…
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