Thursday, June 26, 2014

The Voice at the Stairs Part 1

When I turned 17 years old, my interest was renewed in things spiritual, and psychic. The Ouija board again became part of the entertainment for my high school friends although I showed it more respect than I had before.

Around midnight one evening, my boyfriend, two girlfriends and myself hung out in my basement listening to albums and telling ghost stories. I snuck up the darkened stairs and retrieved the Ouija board from the dining room closet without waking my mother whom laid sleeping in the other room.

I brought it back to my friends and we began to try it out. Wondering if we could still get any answers from the neglected spirits, Tim and I laid our hands on the planchette.

The details of what we asked seem blurry to me now, except for the final questions of the night. My friend Liz had lost her father many years before. She never talked about it, but we knew it was a painful memory for her. Having been raised by strict German Catholics, Liz was a weekly church attendee, and really very wary of the use of Ouija and what it meant to talk to spirits in this way. She sat at a distance from the rest of us on the floor until the Ouija called her name.
“ I have a message for Liz” the board spelled out.

Liz shook her head, not wanting to hear it, but curious and well meaning; we encouraged her to allow us to go on.
“ It’s from Poppa.” The board spelled, and then continued to spell a few words in German. None of us except Liz spoke or knew it.
“Tell them to…” Kathy spoke out as the letters turned into words “Tell them to STOP.”
Quickly Tim and I raised our hands off the board and all four of us suddenly felt a chill go down our spines.

“ Diane!” my mother shouted from the top of the stairs that lead down to the basement.
Surprised to hear my mother’s voice so late, I jumped up and ran to the base of the stairs.
“ Yeah?”
“Are you kids playing with that Ouija board?”
“Yeah!” I replied, now stunned that she somehow knew this.
“ Put it away.” She said, appearing somewhat harried.
“Why?” I wondered.
“I was just woken up by a voice in my room. It said, Tell Them to Stop!”
We packed up the board, and I said goodnight to my friends, promising to get together the next day to discuss what was happening.
I brought the game upstairs and went to bed.
I awoke the next morning to find a crucifix hanging over my head, and the Ouija board packed away, again with a rosary atop it. Mom never did tell us where she hide it, and we never touched it again. At least not that particular board.

Stay Tuned for Part 2. The Next Day.

Photo by extranoise