Spook

            Holly placed her hands on the planchette and took a deep breath. Maile, seated to Holly’s left, did the same. Maile was wearing a black sweater zipped all the way to her chin. She had her hood up to shield against the damp cold of the attic. Holly wore a black sweater as well. It was a hand-me-down from her older brother. It was so big that she had it draped over her knees as she sat cross-legged in front of the Ouija board.

With their hands gingerly resting on the planchette, Holly and Maile circled the board three times.

“As friends we gather, hearts are true; spirits near, we call to you,” they chanted. They circled the board three more times, then set the planchette at the top of the board, keeping two fingers each on top.

“Spook,” Maile called out. “You there?” Spook had been Holly and Maile’s best friend. Spook wasn’t her real name; it was a term of endearment Holly had come up with when they were kids. Even through high school, the name stuck.

            Holly and Maile stared at the board waiting for something to happen when a loud creak gave them a fright. They turned around to see what made the noise. Susan had climbed into the attic and was making her way toward Holly and Maile. She sat down next to Holly. Before the girls could say anything, the planchette began to move.

            “I-M-H-E-R-E,” it spelled out. The girls looked at one another in shock. Holly took her hands off the planchette in terror.

            “Put them back,” Maile whispered sternly. Holly reluctantly placed her fingers back on the planchette. “Close your eyes,” Maile whispered, then took one hand off the planchette to give Holly’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Spook,” Mailed called out. “Is that you?”

The planchette slowly pointed to “YES.”

            “Holy shit,” Maile whispered.

            “Is this real?” Holly whimpered.

The planchette pointed to “YES” again. Susan couldn’t believe it was working. She sat across from Maile in her dark wash skinny jeans and Blink 182 shirt that she’d been wearing for the past six days straight. The planchette began moving again. 

“I-M-I-S-S-Y-O-U,” it spelled. Maile’s heart was pounding, but she didn’t want to let on that she was scared.

           “We miss you, too,” Maile replied, steadying her shaky voice. After a few seconds passed, Holly cleared her throat.

            “Are you in heaven?” Holly asked softly. The candlelight was reflected in her silver glasses. The planchette moved.

“NO.”

The girls looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

“…Are you in hell?” Holly asked hesitantly. The planchette moved again.

“NO.”

Susan looked at Holly, then at Maile. They both sat in silence. Holly pushed her round glasses up the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath.

            “Are you okay?” She asked, her voice cracking. The planchette didn’t move. A tear rolled down Holly’s cheek. Maile noticed.

            “Spook,” Maile said loudly. “Are you okay?” The planchette began to move.

            “YES.”

“This is too much,” Holly said, sniffling. “I can’t do it anymore.” She got up from her spot on the floor and climbed down the hatch ladder.

            “Holly,” Maile called after her, following her out of the attic.

            Susan sat alone on the floor, thankful for what she had just experienced. It had been less than week since she’d died at the hands of her stepfather, but purgatory had made it feel like years. She was grateful for the chance to speak to her friends again. She stared lovingly at the tattoo on her wrist. “Spook,” it read.