Here is my latest submission to Literotica. It's something entirely new for me - a ghost story of sorts. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.
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Don't ask me why I went, because I don't really know. I suppose it was just because a lot of my old friends were there. I hadn't really believed in any of that hocus-pocus garbage for a long time. The truth is, I had become jaded and cynical. I'm embarrassed to remember that we used to think we could call forth the Old Ones, using the spells from The Necronomicon. Shit, we knew even then it was just a ripoff of Lovecraft, a way to capitalize on the mythology he built, but it didn't stop us from trying. So when Ray asked if I wanted to go to the séance (and attendant party), I only said yes out of fond memories and a desire to see some old friends. (And for the party, of course. I always did like a party.) I was kind of sad that they still dabbled in that supernatural crap, but I figured it wouldn't hurt anything.
I sure didn't expect this to happen.
For the longest time, I didn't know what "this" was. I think I've finally figured it out, but I don't want to get ahead of myself. I'll just try to describe things as they unfolded. Let me start with the séance...
Like I said, I hadn't believed in anything supernatural in years. I think WANTING so much to believe, only to be disappointed over and over, contributed to how much I DIDN'T believe in the end, especially when I learned how many of the so-called psychics, mediums, and new-age-type authors where nothing but blatant charlatans preying on the gullible. I was worse than an ex-smoker or born-again Christian if you got me started! So, when I ran into Ray and he told me about the party and séance, it was a real struggle deciding whether to go. In the end, I missed my friends, and that's what won out.
Looking back, it's kind of miraculous that I ran into Ray when I did, and now it seems eerily coincidental that the party was happening while I was in town. I hadn't lived there for over ten years, and I hadn't really kept in touch with anyone, either. I was only visiting my sister for a couple of days while her husband was having surgery, so the odds seem rather long, thinking back on it now. Ray happened to see me at the gas station, and invited me. I wouldn't even have known him if he hadn't recognized me and spoken up. I know everyone has to be somewhere, but of all the hundreds of gas stations in the city, it seems odd. I'm reminded of Bogart in "Casablanca" - "Of all the gin joints..."
So anyway, the party was fun, and it was cool to catch up with the old crowd. Thankfully the conversation didn't really dwell on ghosts and such, so I had a pretty good time. It wasn't 'til late in the evening, when only a handful of people remained, that the conversation turned to the séance. I knew four of the five other guests that were attending -- Ray, of course; Janey, an old girlfriend of mine who had grown big as a house but still had a little-girl giggle; Charles, the clown in our group, who always lifted everyone's spirits (pun NOT intended) when yet another supernatural quest turned up empty; and Jeannie, who, by default, led our little band of misfits back in the old days. We weren't really an organized club or anything. We were just a bunch of fans of the the darker literature who somehow got the idea that even the fiction we read must be grounded in some truth. We wanted to find that truth.
The fifth guest, I did not know. He was named Emmit, or some other vaguely English-sounding name I can't quite remember, and was dressed in a waistcoat, of all things, complete with tight white trousers and a pair of tooled leather dress shoes with low heels and pointed toes.. He was nice enough, but very, shall we say, pretentious.
The woman who led the séance was Sasha. I was never really clear where she came from. It didn't seem any of my friends knew her personally. She just seemed to be there to conduct the rituals. I had trouble not treating her with open disdain, to be honest. She dressed like a gypsy, with flowing black hair under a yellow silk scarf, big gold hoop earrings, and a skirt with more colors than I can name. She looked like some Hollywood spoof of a fortune teller, and sounded like she were trying to fit every movie cliché she knew into her spiel. I was laughing inside at the absurdity of it all, and she seemed to pick up on my skepticism. She kept mentioning that it was more difficult to communicate with the spirit world when there were "Nonbelievers" in the party, but she was a powerful medium and would do her best. I swear, every time she said "Nonbeliever," I could see the capital letter in my mind, as if it were a title or a name rather than a description.
Anyway, the séance itself was pretty much exactly what anyone who has seen a movie that included a séance would expect. All of our hands placed flat on a round table. The room was lit only by a guttering candle near the table's center. Thankfully, there were no crystal balls or pentagrams. The only accessories Sasha used were a vase-shaped brass incense burner and a small bone. It wasn't even a very fancy-looking bone, not a skull or anything cool like that, but what might have been a finger bone. Or a chicken bone, for all I know. The cake of incense she used didn't put out much of a fragrance at all, but the delicate smoke rising from the intricate holes in the burner's body seemed to shift in color like oil on water. She used incantations that seemed to be a mix of English and what I took to be some made-up gibberish, alternately running her fingertips over the tiny bone and then laying it in the circle of light cast by the candle, each time facing a different direction.
I have to give her this -- she was a hell of a show-woman. Without understanding much of what she said, we all seemed to be entranced by the cadence of her voice, the ebb and flow of energy created by her words and movements. Everyone focused on her intently, and the growing energy and excitement seemed to infuse each of us. I was able to understand enough of her monologue to gather that she was supposed to be sensing some spirit or other nearby, someone who wanted to be heard. Sasha implored us to listen, to seek out the voice of the spirit. Everyone strained to hear sounds from another world, and the tension became palpable.
The first thing out of the ordinary that I noticed was the table vibrating. Honestly, I almost laughed out loud and left at that old ruse, knowing how easy it was for a "medium" to cause movements or vibrations in the table like this. It's one of the oldest tricks in the book. I think the only reason I stayed was because I didn't want to ruin the fun for my friends.
I noticed the vibration became higher in frequency, until I could hear it as much as I could feel it. Soon it became an uncomfortable wailing in my ears, and I looked around the table to see how the others were handling it. Sasha mumbled quietly, incoherently, but with such intensity sweat was beaded on her face. Ray and Jeannie had their eyes closed, but showed no sign of feeling the same distress I was feeling. The others watched wide-eyed and intent, waiting like coiled springs for something to happen. For some reason I began to suspect that Emmit-of-the-waistcoat was in on the gag. He didn't really look like he was up to anything, and maybe it was just because he dressed too over-the-top to be quite legitimate, but I kept trying to catch him somehow causing the ululating wail I was hearing.
As the sound crescendoed, I saw the candle flare up brightly and the smoke from the incense burner took on a phosphorescent glow. It seemed to grow thicker and more solid, and changed colors rapidly. I couldn't believe no one else could hear the screeching, because it felt like nails were being driven into my eardrums. I felt sweat pouring from my body, and everyone seemed to take on a distorted, phantasmal appearance, like I was seeing them through old, half-melted glass. I tried to speak, but my consciousness seemed stuck in molasses and couldn't will my voice to action. I was terrified.
