Fingers rested lightly on the planchette as it began to continue it’s sporadic path around the board. Brown eyes glanced subtly at blue, which were burning a hole into the board with her piercing stare. The planchette stopped.

YES.

Eyes darted around the circle, unclear as to what to do next. A voice erupted again, the same as before, her voice full of perseverance and need.

“Who? Who is here with us? Will you tell us who you are?

Their fingers responded immediately, riding the planchette around the board, their brains conscious of any change in temperature, or some kind of physical contact, evidence that it wasn’t just their unconscious moving the piece.

Letters were sought out and retrieved: D…A….

Contestant number three began to frown, her fingers letting up a bit on the planchette. She knew where this was going, knew the pain that was about to be inflicted. She wanted to cease, but an unspoken desire kept her fingertips firmly on the instrument. She closed her eyes, listening to the rain, imagining herself standing outside in it, the cold droplets smashing into her young face.

The planchette stopped. Her eyes remained closed, as she already knew where it had landed. Her ears heard the hiss that exploded to her right. There was a slight rustling and then the sound of feet shifting on carpet. A sudden breeze flowed across her face, blowing back her blonde hair, and shifting her loose tee shirt.

In the background they heard heavy footsteps and then the front door slam.

Light emerged as her eyelids creaked open, the ouija board staring back at her. She glanced up at her remaining friend, who sat cross-legged in front of her, playing with her nails, feigning nonchalance however fully aware of the seriousness of the situation at hand. Their eyes met briefly, then she turned away, her facial muscles relaxing as pain spread across her face.

The blonde looked down at the planchette, resting perfectly on top of the final letter D, mocking the final two participants, fully prepared to continue the game.

She rose from her place on the floor, her right knee popping loudly as she stood. The candles had melted down to their foundations, spilling onto the carpet, a blood red encasing itself within the stubby tentacles of the carpet. How odd it seemed that the formally solid object had transformed into liquid, and then back to a solid. Such an amazing, yet simplistic metamorphosis that we all take for granted.

The girl knew this was her fault, even while her fingers were in total control of the piece. She knew what letters to choose, what buttons to push. Those three little letters meant nothing and everything. If only her friend could move on, be able to see that three-letter word and not feel as though the floor had transformed into quicksand, sucking her short, thin legs into an oblivion where no one cared, no one loved her.

Because people did care, she cared, loved her friend in a way she couldn’t explain. Not even to herself.

The blackness slowly faded away and she realized she was alone in the room with the shadows and her thoughts. The board was gone, the candles extinguished, and Madison had left.

Her chest began to grow hot, as if someone had collected the wax from the candles and made her swallow, the viscous liquid creeping down her esophagus and covering her heart until it cooled and hardened, the muscle’s pumping motions suppressed, as tiny cracks emerged, the pressure begging to be released.

She had made a mistake. This was all wrong. This was not how she wanted this night to end. Not with Ashley in pain. She thought of her friend, the tears that were at this moment spilling over her smooth skin, lying in a fetal position on her bed, her pillow muffled her cries, the silence of an empty house her only witness.

Spencer shoved her hands in her pockets, pushing them down as far as they would go. The rain had ceased, but her guilt had not. She yanked them from her sides and wrapped them around her body, closing her eyes and attempting with all her might to send the sensations to her friend, hoping she would feel her arms around her, providing her the comfort that she knew she did not deserve to give.