The Ouija Board

Phoebe leaned over the table, forearms pressed to the wood, to whisper to Maxon, “Don’t tell Julia, because I know it was hard for her to find this place, and I definitely need the vacation, but this house is creepy.” 

Maxon widened his eyes, leaning towards her, “I know. The ceiling creaks so much, and I swear I heard someone knock on my door and, like, rattle the doorknob at three a.m. this morning, but neither of you were up.” 

“Wait, really? I-”

“Hey guys,” Julia pushed open the bedroom door with her toe, a large brown box wrapped in her arms. Phoebe and Maxon pulled apart, plastering smiles on their faces. “Guess what I found in the closet?” She didn’t wait for an answer, pulling out a chair and dropping the box on the table between them. “A ghost board!” She grinned. 

Phoebe and Maxon exchanged a split-second-long glance. “You mean a ouija board?” Phoebe twisted the silver ring on her left thumb. 

“Yeah, that.” Julia clapped her hands, “I figured since it’s almost dark out, we should play.” She gestured out the window towards the sky, which was dark blue, a few stars peeking out, only a thin band of orange left along the edge of the mountains. Phoebe and Maxon nodded, and Julia tossed aside the box’s lid, which was torn around the corners. 

Despite the box’s bad condition, the board was pristine. The honey-colored wood gleamed bright in the yellow light from the chandelier above the dining table, and the letters were burned into the wood in an elegant font. Julia pulled out the small silver planchette with a flourish. It was smooth and shining, an isoceles triagle with round edges and a quarter-sized hole cut out of the middle. “Are you ready?” 

Phoebe forced a grin. “Of course.” 

Maxon only nodded, “Yep.” 

They all settled into their seats and placed their fingers onto the pointer. “Oh, spirit,” Julia began to intone. “Wait!” she jumped up, “we need to set the mood.” Maxon and Phoebe watched, fingers still pressed to the pointer, as Julia dimmed the lights. 

Then, as she was returning to her seat, the planchette began to move beneath Maxon and Phoebe’s fingertips. They stared at it as it slid soundlessly across the wood. “Are you doing this?” Pheobe squeaked. 

L

“No,” Maxon’s eyes were huge, fixed on his fingers being pulled across the board, “Are you?” 

E

“No.”

T

“Come on guys,” Julia rolled her eyes, smiling, “We didn’t even ask a question. Quit it.”

M

“I’m not doing anything, I swear.” Phoebe bit her lip.

E

“Okay, Maxon, then. Stop,” said Julia, sitting down again and crossing her arms, “You’re not fooling anyone.” 

O

“I’m not trying to fool anyone,” Maxon snapped, “It’s just moving.”

U

“What is happening right now?” Phoebe’s fingers felt stuck to the smooth cold metal. 

T

“Guys, you’re just moving it. Stop.” Julia frowned. The planchette stopped at the T, and Maxon and Phoebe pulled their hands away. Phoebe’s fingertips burned like she’d held them to a block of dry ice. 

“It said ‘let me out’?” Maxon stared at the board.

“Stop being annoying. You moved the thing,” Julia said, gesturing at the board, “There’s nothing there, see?” She leaned down over the table, “Is there anyone there?” Her words were sharp, her patience stretched thin.

Under her nose, without anyone touching it, the planchette slid up to the corner of the board. 

YES 

Julia shrieked and leapt away, Phoebe grabbing her arm. Maxon just stared. “Who are you?” He asked. 

O-R-I-A-S

“What the hell is Orias?” Julia whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

D-E-M-O-N

“Oh my God, what do we do?” She clung to Phoebe. 

There was a pause, then Maxon spoke. “We have to--” he cocked his head, eyes still fixed on the board, “Destroy it. Get a knife.” 

Phoebe slipped away from Julia’s grasp and stood on her tiptoes to reach over the counter and grab a knife from the knife block. “Not that one,” Maxon said. 

Hand still wrapped around the knife’s handle, Phoebe turned. “How did you…” Maxon gaze hadn’t strayed from the board. 

“The big one,” said Maxon, “It’s all silver.”

Phoebe released the wood-handled knife she had been holding and pulled out the silver one instead, returning to the table. Without moving his head, Maxon held out his open palm, and Phoebe placed the blade in it. 

“Now wha--” Before Phoebe could finish, Maxon drove the knife into the center of the board, splitting apart the wood and sending the planchette skittering away across the table. As the board split apart, a wave of power seemed to ripple and spark in the air, knocking Phoebe, Julia, and Maxon off their feet. As he fell, Maxon hit his head hard on the metal heater below the window, smearing blood across its surface. 

Where the ouija board had been, there now stood a slender, grey-skinned man in a wrinkled dress shirt and pants. His hair was tawny and too long, hanging in limp, sweat-damp strands around his face. A broken set of blackened manacles dangled from his wrists. 

He licked his lips, “Hello. I’m Orias.”

Julia whimpered, curled on her side, fingers digging into the carpet. Phoebe lay on her back, balanced on her elbows. “What happened to Maxon?” 

Orias waved a hand towards where Maxon’s body lay prone on the floor, blood leaking into his hair through a gash in his head. “I possessed him, just to get out of that awful board.” He yawned, stretching his arms out in front of him and hopping down from the table. He had broken cuffs around his ankles too, and the hem of his left pant leg was slightly charred. His shoes made a soft thud against the carpeted ground. “I promise I didn’t mean to kill him, but that heater just happened to be there.” 

“He’s dead?” Julia squeaked, as Phoebe snarled, “You killed him?”

Orias laughed, a sharp, slippery sound like a guillotine blade slicing through a traitor’s neck and landing in wood. “I’m a demon. What do you expect?”

The girls were silent; Julia squeezed her eyes shut. 

The chains dangling from Orias’s wrists and ankles tinkled like windchimes as he stepped forward, raising his hands in the air. Orange light wreathed his palms and glowed in his eyes. 

Phoebe crawled backwards on her elbows, heels slipping against the carpet, but Orias wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he knelt beside Julia, who was curled into a ball, arms wrapped around her knees, crying. Orias placed one glowing hand on her leg, wrapping his slender grey fingers around her ankle. His nails were long, sharp, and yellow. 

Phoebe stopped moving to watch as the light dimmed to nothing in Orias’s hands, and his eyes rolled back into his head. After a moment, he collapsed, and when his body hit the floor, it dissolved into ash, leaving a small pile of it on the carpet. 

Phoebe heaved a breath, “Julia,” she reached out to shake her friend’s shoulders, “It’s okay, he’s gone.” 

Julia stood, unfurling her limbs in one fluid motion, and Phoebe heard herself whimper. Julia’s eyes glowed orange, a cruel smile twisting her lips. She raised her arms and spun in a slow circle, “You like my new look?” Orias’s broken chains dangled from her wrists and ankles, but despite them, and her bright orange eyes, Julia’s voice was unchanged, still smooth and sweet. 

Smiling, she grabbed the knife from where Maxon had left it between the two halves of the ouija board and turned back to Phoebe, holding it aloft. “I’m going to kill you now,” she said, and, giggling, she lunged forward and drove the knife into Phoebe’s eye.