The Ouija Revisited | The secret

The Ouija Revisited:

His name is Alan, 35 years of age, a grandson of the nice old lady who lives next door to me. When he visits her he sometimes drops in and says “gooday” and maybe have a thirst-quencher or two. He is quite happy being identified. I think he fancies the idea of being famous on the wide world of web, don’t you know. (Chuckling here !) I can’t recall how we even got onto the subject of seances but as often happens with people I meet, it was that subject we soon found ourselves discussing. I actually took notes as there was a bit to remember and it is from these sparse notes and my recollection that I now proceed with the telling of a most interesting account of the ouija, and why, if the first visit isn’t enough to scare you away, then you better hope the second one is…

It is amazing how quickly things can spread just by word of mouth let alone with modern technology. Fads, recipes, good news, bad news. Hopping from one person to another like rapidly multiplying rabbits. For some the information will be quickly forgotten but for others it may act as a catalyst to try something new – to try that new recipe, to buy that latest album everyone’s raving about, to make a point to see this or that movie or perhaps…..conjure the dead? At the age of 14 that is exactly what Alan decided to do after a younger cousin excitedly told him about the seance he just witnessed and that it’s real and he knows how to do it. At first Alan approached the idea more to humour his cousin with little or no expectation that anything would happen. They didn’t even need a ouija board. Scrabble letters could be laid out on a table to simulate one. A glass is placed upside down, index fingers lightly touching it, and the journey into what I call the “spiritsphere” begins…

This particular journey was fairly uneventful and at some stage the name Hannah was spelt out but Alan suspected it was his cousin playing a trick on him and lost interest in it. It wasn’t until the next day at school, having thought no more on the subject, when a new student was introduced to the class. A girl named Hannah ! “That’s a bit freaky,” he thought to himself. “Maybe there IS something to all this spirit stuff ?” He intended to try it again as soon as possible to find out. He had “taken the bait”. In the meantime his cousin had taught his mum how to do it and was steadily gaining experience and confidence in the comfort of his own lounge room rather than the stuffy little caravan with Alan that first time. Many more seances were conducted with new members being introduced as time went on. See how quickly things can spread and grow ? Particularly amongst bored, impressionable teenagers looking for a cheap thrill.

Mostly the seances were treated like a game to impress and scare people at parties. Nothing particularly terrifying or malevolent ever came from it at least as far as I know. But they did have “conversations” with the “beyond” and would ask questions like, “What is your name?”, “Are you male or female?” “Is there an afterlife?” “Is it better than here?” etc. Strangely that last question was always answered with a resounding “No” which is a little disconcerting. Were they communicating with souls of the departed who had not passed on for some reason and who were now trapped in limbo? Were they essentially opening a portal to purgatory, attracting these poor wretched souls like moths to a porch light, otherwise wandering blind and aimless in some eternal night ? Are some of these entities ancient demonic beings eager to create harm and cause mischief upon the earth ? Going on some of the names that were spelt out during these seances I would not be at all surprised. Names like “Sikram”, “Puck”, “Maleck” for example. On one occasion the glass launched itself off the table and smashed violently against a wall and I think it was that experience which convinced Alan to retire from seances just to be on the safe side.

Up until telling me his story it had been his belief that the “spirit” was trapped in the glass throughout the seance and that it was a simple matter to blow into the glass to release it back into “the wild” so to speak, upon it’s conclusion. I must say I laughed when he told me this and related to him a photo I once saw of some people having a seance in the dimly lit room of some reputedly haunted old abandoned homestead. Overlaid upon one of the participants was a vaporous figure who’s skeletal form could be clearly discerned.

It was as if this skeletal “ghost” was superimposed upon the person, “borrowing” their body, it’s bony arms lining up with their arms, it’s ghostly hands upon theirs, as if helping to move the pointer around on the ouija board. I also told him how spirits don’t always leave when you want them too and other disturbing examples to illustrate that many things people believe about the spirit world are simply nonsense and serve only to relay a sense of false security that they are in control when in fact it is often the entity that is in control of them…

It was with a dawning realisation and a sudden wave of goose bumps that Alan finished telling me his story. He said it was years later amongst some people at a party that he started telling them about seances and one of them said,”Hey let’s do one ! That would be cool !” Another cousin of his, Corey, who was quite drunk and known to be a bit of a tool even when sober, declared loudly and obnoxiously how he thought it was all bullshit but that he would go along anyway just for laughs. Not a good attitude to have right from the get-go it soon turned out. Seems some of these “beings” can take particular exception to any loudmouth skeptics that may be present. Especially drunken, moronic skeptics, like this fella was.

After setting up the scrabble letters and finding an appropriate glass about six people sat down in the darkened kitchen to begin. Six index fingers rested ever so lightly upon the upturned glass as Alan began asking the usual questions. All the while Corey is rolling his eyes, giggling, slurping back his beer and making jokes when suddenly the glass starts to vibrate and buck and rattle on the hard smooth table as if charged with an intense angry energy! The glass, trailing white-nailed index fingers, just as suddenly begins to move, taking a direct and deliberate path straight towards a now silent and slack-jawed Corey. It was moving frighteningly fast, pushing the scrabble letters aside as it did so, accelerating towards him as if intending harm. Arms were now stretching to maintain contact with the glass, when as if on cue, everybody removed their fingers at once and just sat there in stunned silence looking at the now stationary glass sitting right in front of Corey.

Alan swore after that never to do it again. It was too intense and powerful to be rationalised or laughed away. He resolved not to re-visit the ouija board from that day forward. Knowing what he knows now, he considers himself lucky he got away so lightly and is quick to warn others not to dabble in the “darklands”, where roam the dead and disembodied spirits of a realm we should all fear to tread.