The Picture Game

“Wednesday hurry up with the rope!” My twin Adam screams from downstairs. I sigh and finish tying the rope into a circle. Yes my name is Wednesday, my mum loves the Adams family, no I don’t wear my hair in two braids or a black dress but I will potentially light someone’s house on fire if I have to hear those jokes one more time.

Making my way down the basement steps I join the rest of my family. It was game night and while for most families that meant sitting around a table playing cards or rolling a dice, here in the Knight household the concept of games was.... unique. 

Everyone was seated in a circle on the floor with a hand mirror laying face up in front of them, the room was dark with the only source of light being the three candles surrounding a glass of dark red wine placed in the centre of the circle, the rope loop I was carrying would go around the glass and candles and the digital camera my grandma was currently fiddling with would become necessary later. It was called the picture game a way to communicate with the paranormal and summon an entity. Essentially we were about to have a photo shoot with a spirit.

“Finally, thought you went to make out with that demon in your closet you have a crush on” Adam quips as he snatches the rope. “I don’t have a crush on him! I was knotting the rope since your dumbass can’t do it” I snap back punching him in the arm earning a chuckle from Nasher our younger brother. He was practically bouncing with excitement looking more like a five year old rather than thirteen but having never been allowed to participate in the game nights before it was understandable. Mum sat to his left smiling and petting his dark curls as she watched him adoringly. He was undoubtedly her favourite, always such a good little gothic mammas boy. “Come sit down you two!” Grandma hollers causing both Adam and I to take a seat in front of our mirrors with a huff. Reluctantly we grasp each other’s hand but when Adam’s grip became firmer than necessary it turned into a competition, each of us doing our best impressions of a boa constrictor in order to see who will cry mercy first. However a sharp look from dad causes us to stop but not without a final digging in of the nails.

After making eye contact with everyone dad nods and the game begins. We all say in unison, “I trust you” and start the chant. “We invite you to the circle you are welcome here, we invite you to the circle you are welcome here, we invite you to the circle you are welcome here.” Goosebumps begin to spread up my arms, an uncomfortable but familiar feeling. It’s hard to explain the change in the air that occurs when something ‘other’ enters the room, you just know that it’s there and that it’s watching even though you can’t see it.

 Breaking our chain grandma points the camera towards the glass and takes a photo yelling “HA I CAUGHT YOU” into the empty space before passing it around the circle only for the next person to do the same thing. It’s a rather lengthy boring process which goes by fairly uneventful except for the occasional candle flicker or sudden chill. Sometimes people begin to feel sick or cry spontaneously but no such thing happened tonight, however every time it was my turn I’d feel light touches on my face, neck and legs but decided to keep the fact to myself.

Once the camera had done three full rotations we rejoin hands and chant, “it’s time for you to go now, you’re not wanted here anymore” three times before flipping our mirrors so that they are facing down. Nasher stands rushing to tip the wine out of the glass officially ending the game. 

I stare at the puddle so similar to blood inching its way towards me while everyone else huddles to see what it is we caught on film. At first I didn’t notice how blissfully  silent it was and continued my wine drawing on the floor but Nasher’s sudden uncomfortable laughter caught my attention. “You think he was a male stripper?” He asks and my head whips up to see mum blushing while grandma looks as though she’s having a sexual awakening, dad frowns while Adam just seems confused. Curious I walk over, “let me see” however before I can grab the camera all the boys snatch it away.

“nope”

“Definitely not”

“Your eyes are too young”

I frown at the last one seeing as it came from a thirteen year old. “Everyone else saw!” All three just continue to stare blankly until grandma pipes up.

“Hand me that damn thing! Just because you don’t want her to see doesn’t me you can deprive other women of that hunk of a dead man” Even dad who usually seems aloof cringes and passes the camera over. 

“Get over here girl!”

“Mother-“ dad begins but shuts up when she glares. Smirking I strut over but freeze when I see what’s on the screen. It a gorgeous boy, no not a boy, a man. He’s half naked wearing ripped black jeans with a chain hanging off the belt loops, his blonde hair is styled in that effortless messy look, his face has strong bone structure yet almost feminine features and his body is chiseled but not too bulky, like a swimmer. In every photo he strikes a suggestive pose in front of me some so vulgar it’s no wonder mum blushed, but it’s not all that that has me so shocked, it’s his eyes; vibrant yellow with horizontal pupils exactly like a goat‘s and his grin, a perfect set of pearly white teeth with four sharp K9s. I recognised them and could almost hear him laughing at my reaction to seeing his face for the first time even after knowing him for a decade. This wasn’t the ghost of a dead man, this ladies and gentlemen was the demon in my closet.