Ouija

Note: This is a ghost and horror story. If you're here looking for a sexual turn on, maybe you should choose a different story to read. If you like ghost and horror stories then I hope you'll enjoy this one.

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Curious, I watched as Glenda rummaged through her wardrobe and withdrew the box. It looked like a game, one of those played on a board.

"We need to get our minds out of the books. Besides, this might give us something nice to dream about." Glenda explained.

"Oh, an Ouija board!" Marlene exclaimed. "I've heard about those but never played with one. Let me see it."

"My sister in law gave it to me right after she married my brother. I guess she figured she's got something nicer to play with now." Glenda laughed. "Marge could never get it to work. I haven't tried it yet."

Linda, the pragmatist, said, "You aren't really going to play with that hocus, are you?"

I replied, "Why not, I don't believe in Sociology either but I'm giving that a fair try. Besides, It's almost Halloween, the ghosts should all be comming out now"

The girls all laughed.

A simple diversion from a midweek evening of grueling studies, It seemed harmless enough, just a simple game board and a plastic planchette. If I had any idea of the horror that followed, or where I'd be right now, that thing would have been destroyed right there in front of all of them.

The weekly study cycle controlled our sorority house. At Ten PM the few that went out were out. The rest of us, myself included, studied in little groups or hacked at it alone. The four of us had one thing in common. We wanted that degree bad enough to work for it. After four hours of pounding the books for a Sociology test we needed any kind of relief.

Glenda's roomie, Jane, was out with "her man" though he really belonged to anyone willing to shed her panties for him. His name was Daryl. Jane was very possessive and said "my man" so often in referring to him that we just started calling him "her man" instead of using his name. I found it hard to believe that anyone so intelligent could ignore what everyone else knew. While we had to study, Jane seemed to learn by osmosis.

I met Daryl briefly once as they were on their way out. Jane forgot something and went back for it. "Her man" made a pass at me as if I'd be eager to jump in bed with him behind her back. It wasn't loyalty to Jane that angered me over the incident. I felt insulted because the pass was cheap, fast, and obvious.

We cleared the books from the table and sat down.

"Okay, It's your thing so you go first, Glenda." Linda said in her usual way of running things, after she knew the others were going to do them anyway.

Glenda winked at Marlene and me to let us know that we were humoring Linda who by now was reading the instructions on the box cover for us. When done, she placed her pad and a pencil on the table, and waited to write down anything that might happen.

Glenda placed her fingers on the planchette. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

I looked at my watch and waited anxiously in silence with Marlene and Linda. Five minutes went by.

Glenda opened her eyes, looked upward as if addressing the spirits and said, "Okay, if you don't like me you can go screw yourselves."

All of us laughed at spirits being told to go screw themselves.

"Marlene?" Linda asked turning the board toward her.

Marlene placed her fingers on the planchette and closed her eyes. "Is anyone here?" Two minutes went by. Then the planchette began to move. It wandered over the board for a while and finally stopped on the colored "Yes."

Linda's eyes grew wide in disbelief as she wrote the answer, "YES" The planchette began to wander again. It stopped on the "W"

Linda wrote "W" and Marlene's fingers moved the planchette again. The slow process continued and a single word emerged, "WEAK".

All of us were astounded because Marlene had not opened her eyes.

She opened them to look. "Oh, my God, it works! I was asking 'Is anyone here?' when I got the 'yes'. I wasn't asking anything when I got the 'weak.' Let's try it again."

Marlene closed her eyes once more. "Who are you?" Again, the planchette moved slowly and uncertainly over the board. This time it spelled out, "STEPHANIE. TOO WEAK GO NEXT." Marlene opened her eyes and said, "I think it means she is having trouble going through me. Linda?" She asked, turning the board toward her.

"I pass." Linda replied, turning it to me.

I placed my fingers on the planchette, and closed my eyes. Immediately I felt a twitch in my arms and wrists. My hands began to move. They wandered first to the right edge, then the left, to the top of the board, and down to the bottom; after moving back to the center and pausing, they began rapidly moving and stopping abruptly. There was no meandering as with Marlene. When it stopped I looked at what Linda had written.

"MUCH BETTER", "EASIER WAY", "TAKE PENCIL"

With her eyes wide open in amazement Linda handed her pencil and pad to me.

I wrote the question, "Stephanie, who?" As I looked around the table at the others, my left hand twitched, took the pencil out of my right hand and began to write with it.

"I'm so glad to find you. I'm Stephanie Rogers. I was killed in a car crash on I-5 about three miles from here in July 1994. The others forgave me and went. I don't want to go."

"Go where?" I wrote switching the pencil back into my right hand. My left hand took the pencil again.

"Where the dead go, into the light where all are one and one is all."

"Why?" was my next question.

"Most forgive. I can't"

I started to take the pencil back into my right hand but my left began writing again.

"Getting weak. Got to leave now. See you soon."

"Beth were you faking that?" Linda asked.

"You know I can't write with my left hand." I replied. "You had to write for me when I sprained my wrist. Remember? Besides, look at the difference in the writing. The slant is different. She crosses her T's in the middle. I cross them over the top. She dots her I's behind the letter. I dot them in front of it. She presses hard on the down strokes. I press harder on the upstrokes."

"This is getting creepier by the minute." Glenda said. "I doubt if any of us will sleep tonight. I wonder if there was a real person."

"We can check easy enough." Marlene said. "Glenda, turn on your computer and get into into the library files."

It didn't take long for Marlene to find the local newspaper article and call it up. There had, indeed, been a Stephanie Rogers killed in an automobile accident on July 12, 1994. According to the article she had been traveling south toward town alone at a high rate of speed. Her car swerved, crossed the median and struck another car head on. The man driving the other car, his wife, and an infant daughter was killed also.

We couldn't find much to say after that, so we separated and went to our rooms.

I couldn't sleep and my head began to ache. A couple of aspirin didn't help. Then I began to hear voices inside my head. They sounded far away, confused with words missing, as if a conversation was taking place in the next room with the door closed.

"Leave her alone, Stephanie."

"Stay out of it, Mary."

"You'll destroy..."

"No...won't..."

"Leave her alone before..."

"Can't...only way..."

Then it was silent. I slept deeply until my clock radio blared out the local disk jockey's cheerful morning voice. I skipped breakfast, and headed for my first class; Sociology.

The huge tiered classroom held one hundred and twenty students all bored into a trance by Doctor Stroud's droning voice.

"The statistical mean of a fluctuating population is used to determine..." Stroud was a balding little nerd with thick, horn rimmed glasses. He was as dull as he looked.

As I stared down at Doctor Stroud and drifted deeper into the trance induced by his monotone voice, my left hand twitched. I must have blanked out, or something after that, because the trance ended with a start. I looked at my notebook and read:

"You know part of it. Let me tell you the rest: I was very hurt and furious at the time. I walked in on my fiancé and found him naked in bed with my best friend. He never even knew I was there, his head was buried between her legs and her eyes were closed. I quietly closed the door behind me, ran out to my car and just tore out of there. I didn't know where I was going and didn't care. My rage controlled my foot on the accelerator, a hundred and twenty miles an hour. I wanted to die, thought about it, and suddenly spun the wheel. Then I saw the other car. I couldn't regain control. Now three innocent people are dead, and I can't forgive him or myself."

Abruptly I realized that what the professor was saying was fair game for the test. I sat up with a start, took the pen into my right hand, and rapidly scribbled some notes from the chalkboard. The bell rang and the lecture was over.

Marlene and I were going to a frat party on Friday, or Halloween night. Some would dress in costumes but I just wanted a colorful blouse to wear with my blue jeans. With two hours before my next class, alone, I boarded the bus and went to the mall.

In J.C. Penny's it happened again, this time it was frightening. I had no control. The background noises blended into one constant drone. I heard the voices coming through in small snatches of conversation.

"Come on, Mary it will be fun to...."

"She can't handle it, Stephanie."

My vision grew dark and I felt a twitch that affected my whole body this time. Then I was lying on my bed with no idea of how I got there. My alarm clock said I had ten minutes to get to my next class. I couldn't account for the last hour and ten minutes. I saw bag from Penny's on my chair but couldn't spare the time to look as I rushed out of the room.

With my last three classes finished for the day I returned to my room to see what I didn't remember buying. The dress was gorgeous. It was a colorful print, casual enough for the party, a perfect fit, the kind I looked at but never bought. It showed the best I had to the best advantage, and I loved it. According to the receipt inside the bag the price wasn't bad. The tag showed that it had been marked down three times.

What else did I do in that hour and ten minutes that I didn't remember? Why didn't I remember it? I was frightened.

After dinner Marlene stopped by to get me for the last round of cramming before the Soc. test. "Oh, it's gorgeous! Quick, put it on. I want to see how it looks on you."

"I don't know, do you think it's a little too much?"

"No, not at all. It's perfect. Of course I'll have to upgrade my outfit a little so I don't look like a slob next to you; but why should we dress down for them? Let's make the little bastards beg for it." Marlene's blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous grin.

Jane was out with "her man", Daryl, again so we had Glenda's room to ourselves. I was able to get what I missed of Stroud's lecture from Linda's notes. I didn't miss much but we did find a couple of likely test items in it.

By ten thirty we were satisfied that we knew all we were going to know. It was time to let memory do the rest.

Glenda brought out the board again and set it in front of me. I didn't touch it. Instead, I told the three of them what had happened at Penney's.

Linda didn't close her gaping mouth through my entire recall. "Oh, my God! You really are psychic, aren't you, Beth Ann."

"I guess so, but I'm scared. How do I control it? It's okay if my mind wanders a little at times and I pick up on some thoughts. Daydreaming always was a specialty of mine, but the lapse of memory scares me to death. I could have been doing anything"

Glenda caught my eyes and said, "You're tired. Maybe you just let yourself go on autopilot for a little while. We do that sometimes, especially when we are tired. Get some extra sleep this weekend and you'll be fine."

"Yeah, guess you're right. I am tired. If you don't mind too much, I'd like to pass on this Ouija thing tonight and just let Marlene do it." There was no way I could communicate the extent of my fear to anyone. I made my to escape to the bathroom before anyone tried to persuade me into using the Ouija board again.

On my way back, I felt the twitch again. Time skipped to where the picture of Jane and Daryl, that had been on Jane's desk, struck the floor. I heard the glass frame shatter and my three friends were staring at me. "Gee, I'm getting clumsy" I said to hide my embarrassment.

Glenda was the first to recover. "But, Beth Ann, you deliberately picked up that picture and threw it on the floor."

"Look, I don't know what happened!" I yelled. "Tell Jane I'm sorry and I'll get her a new frame for her picture in the morning. Right now I better go to bed before I break anything else." I made my way back to my room. Something inside of me was able to take control whenever it wanted. Sick with fear over the incident, I spent a restless night dozing, tossing, and turning.

When morning came, I refused to think about the day before. I felt just the right amount of tension for the test, Aggressive and not afraid. Scanning the questions, I knew I'd do well.

After it was over, we met in the cafeteria and discussed the questions. All four of us felt as if we had aced it. The aggressive high carried me through the rest of the day, and before long Marlene and I darted back and forth between rooms getting ready for the party.

The guys had done a great job of decorating the house. A portable bar dominated the main room. Orange and black balloons, and streamers hung from the ceilings. Posters with spooks, graffiti and caricatures adorned the walls everywhere. Sheaves of corn stalks with pumpkins occupied the corners. It would take an entire evening just to appreciate them all of the decorations they had. There were guys dressed like vampires, Frankenstein monsters, ghouls, ghosts, witches, and whatever. Music blared loud and full of energy. Laughter and raucous voices rang out in jubilation of a Friday night Halloween and no more classes for two whole days. The booze flowed freely and some couples danced while others gathered into boisterous conversation groups, all with drinks in hand trying to shout above the noise.

A guy dressed as a hairy legged woman in an old ladies dress with a string mop for a wig leaped onto the bar and began a gyrating strip tease dance to the cheers, jeers, and laughter of all.

Marlene and I stepped right into the middle of things, abandoning ourselves to the fun and laughter of the party.

I don't know why I glanced at the door just as Jane and "her man" walked in. I felt the twitch and time skipped again.

First, there was the silence, then the terrible reality grew in fragments. I was in the kitchen. The party noises had stopped. Everyone stared at me. Something in my left hand felt sticky. The kitchen light glared. I looked down at my hand. It was blood! As reality grew, I withdrew wanting no part of it. Blood covered both my hand and the large chef's knife it held. I screamed and threw the knife down. Thick splatters of blood were on my new dress. Someone was on the floor at my feet, tan slacks, blood soaked crotch, cotton plaid shirt, red blood all over the chest, puddle of blood spreading out on the white vinyl floor, panic stricken eyes staring up at me, Daryl, it was Daryl. I hardly knew him. Hands and feet trembled slightly as life left his body. The horror was stronger than my ability to comprehend. It was obvious that I had done this terrible thing but it was like watching something that I had no part of. There was no reason, no memory.

Hands grabbed me. Someone shouted, "Call 911! Get an ambulance!"

The campus cops arrived in an instant. They handcuffed me and led me outside. Red and blue lights flashed against the night. More were arriving. Local police took me. They read my rights, and carefully put me in the back seat of a police car. The colored lights were still flashing as we left toward town. My senses were functioning but my mind could only register the horror that I felt. The sights and sounds just passed through like watching television and thinking about something else.

The interrogation room was grim and barren, a metal table and four chairs, gray walls, a big glass panel that I couldn't see through, and a plain steel door that they always kept closed and locked.

There was always more than one of them with me. They kept asking and I couldn't tell them much because I didn't know anything. Different ones came in, asked questions that I couldn't answer and left. They weren't unkind as you might think they would be. Sometimes we just talked about me for a while. Then they asked the same questions all over again in a different way. Sometimes they even offered me a coke or a cup of coffee. By rights, I should have asked for an attorney, they even offered to get one for me, but I was disassociated from the whole thing. I couldn't think.

I lost track of time. After what seemed like several hours two female officers led me out in handcuffs to a shower. Afterward, I dressed in the orange coveralls they handed me. Again in handcuffs they led me to a cell with a shiny metal toilet and sink. There was a small bed made up with a white sheet and pillowcase and a coarse gray wool blanket. I spent several days there. I don't know how many. I tried to remember but I couldn't. Every day, they asked me the same questions that I had no idea what the answers were.

The courtroom for the arraignment hearing was small, modern, and comfortable. My court appointed attorney seemed to understand that I didn't know what happened. The courtroom procedure was almost automatic. That is, until I felt the twitch. Time, once again, skipped.

Everyone in the courtroom was aghast at whatever they had heard. Dad openly sobbed while Mom tried to comfort him.

My mind was still locked in the horror of what had happened and I had no comprehension as the officers led me away. It all just passed like I wasn't part of it.

They brought me here for psychiatric evaluation and I've been here ever since. At first I washed my hands a lot. It took months before I could register what my senses were telling me and actually feel myself as a part of the world around me. I understand where I am now. I've accepted it.

Oh, life isn't too bad here. I've become used to the medication and even look forward to it. Everyone is kind and I have my friends. Linda visits me sometimes when she isn't too busy. I wish the others would but I can't blame them. I miss Marlene.

It took a lot of thinking for me to realize that it's not really I who belong here. It's Stephanie. The system will never let me out because of the crime that she committed. Someone must be held responsible and the system can't admit to her existence, but she won't get out either. I had to get into her mind a little to prevent her from leaving mine, but I know how to hold her here now. As unbalanced as she is, there is no telling what she might do if she got out and found someone else.

Poor Doctor Evans, my shrink, I blew his paper on the treatment of multiple personality disorder right out of the window. There just isn't any kind of a link between Stephanie or Daryl, and my past. Stephanie even told him intimate details of her life that only she could have known. He has given up. Doc's a good man but he's caught in a dilemma. He understands but doesn't dare admit it, after all, what would it do to his profession? His profession demands truth, but wouldn't believe it if he told it. Now on appointment days we just visit and talk friend to friend.

My dad made an arrangement with Doctor Evans to allow me use of a computer. There has to be some supervision, of course, but I'm still me when I am. I'm still a normal, rational, and responsible person. Dad bought the computer and pays for an on-line account for me. I surf the Internet a lot. Compared to some of the nuts on the net I'm harmless enough. I like contact with the outside world. It sure beats watching soaps on TV like the others.