THIS IS NO GAME

"Ouija board is.....a.....game.  That's it! shouted Bryce.  He thought maybe if he said it loud enough he would believe it and his stomach would stop turning.

"I know what you're saying Bryce and I agree.  It is a game after all I was the one that went with Todd to Wal-Mart when he bought it.  It was right there on the shelf with Monopoly, Jenga and Chutes and Ladders and shit!"  "But that doesn't stop the fact that since we played around with it that strange shit has not been happening, because it has!"  And you may not fucking believe me, but...

Before Jeremy could finish Bryce cut him off.  "Man, Jeremy you know we like brothers and if you say you seeing and hearing shit, then I believe you."  However, I will say that the $10.00, raggedy ass board game doesn't have anything to do with it.  It's stress, plain and simple.  I haven't been able to sleep much myself lately.  It's the last semester of college for us and studying for exams is downright brutal.  Especially since neither of us are stopping at this level.  The fear of failure at this point can cause many a sleepless night.

He appreciated Bryce trying to rationalize instead of doubting his sanity, but he knew his friend was frightened and was simply trying not to show it for his sake. 

"Look, Bryce I have been craving pancakes for the past week!"

Bryce's brow furrowed as a mask of confusion veiled his handsome brown face. 

"I know what you are thinking. What does a Ouija board have to do with flapjacks?

"Exactly, and I'm all ears 'cause this is some shit I have to hear."

"Do you know the last time I had a pancake? He didn’t wait for an answer.

“Of course you don't because I have never eaten them since I've known you.  In fact it has been ten years since I have eaten them.  My very last time was Saturday April 6th 2000, 9:00 am at Margie's Diner.  I sat in the booth across from my Uncle Chuck and we both had a stack of our favorite, strawberry cream cheese.  It was our thing on Saturdays and I always looked forward to it.  Since my father had skipped out on me and my mom, her brother Charles, having no kids of his own stepped into the role of father.

  I remember the following Monday sitting in class daydreaming about the upcoming Saturday and how I would throw the waitress a curveball by asking for blueberries instead of my usual strawberry syrup or maybe ordering something different all together. But that would never happen.  On that Wednesday when I got home from school I found my mother in tears.  Charles, who was simply Uncle Chuck to me, had gone into work that morning at the Marsh Fork mine.  There was an explosion and he and eight other miners were trapped.

I had watched the news more than any twelve year old should have, hoping that there would be word that the search would end with all men exciting the mine, especially Uncle Chuck.  Then a week had passed and reporters with sullen faces had smothered my hope like dirt on a camp fire. At that point there would be no rescue just recovery.  The funeral was closed casket and the smiling framed photo of my uncle that sat on an easel did not provide closure for me because no matter how they tried to shield me from the truth I knew that he had died horribly.  I hurt for a long time and I vowed never to eat a pancake again."

“What about the Ouija?"

"Well Todd, Amanda, Kristy and I took the board to Shady Pines Cemetery. We figured since we didn't exactly have any particular spirit in mind to talk to we were bound to find someone there. We searched for headstones with a cool or interesting names and everyone took turns trying to talk to that person.  Of course you know me; I’m not exactly the extrovert so carrying on a conversation with a total stranger alive or dead is just not me.  So I closed my eyes and imagined the conversation I would have with Uncle Chuck. I mean even though this graveyard was not his final resting place still tried to make contact with him.  And of course like the others I moved the planchette so that the response would be what I wanted.  Responses of what I thought he might say.  Then jokingly I asked; " My friends and I are hungry what should we eat?  Of course I had all intentions of spelling out pizza, because we had planned on hanging out at the Pizza Pit since it was the one place open all night.  I felt the planchette move under my hand and I immediately jerked away as it moved by itself from letter to letter.  We all sat frozen in place, life-like statues like the many stone angels and gargoyles that surrounded us as we watched it spell out the word pancakes.  Everyone laughed and congratulated me on the cool trick even though I insisted that it was not me moving the placnchette. It was then that I knew that it was real.”

"So you actually think that you made contact with your dead uncle and now you are having cravings for pancakes?

Jeremy rolled his eyes and expelled a long slow breath as frustration set in.  He didn’t like Bryce claiming to be the supportive best friend one minute and then being a patronizing asshole the next, even if he was attempting to lighten the mood.

“It’s not just the craving,  I could have dismissed that as being just exactly what it was,  my renewed desire to eat fluffy fried buttermilk batter.  But it’s more than that.  It’s feeling his presence, hearing him calling my name in a raspy, wheezing voice as if he is gasping for air.

“And you’re sure it’s him?

“I wasn’t until I saw him”

Now he had Bryce’s full attention.

“Last night I had a terrible nightmare that I was a coal miner.  I was underground when I heard this big explosion followed the screams of those closest to the blast; bodies were torn limb from limb, a hellish inferno incinerated flesh. I and the other nameless men turned to run hoping to escape that fate only to meet Death head-on as tons of rock collapsed on top of us, instantly crushing some like insects under a giant slate shoe and I was suddenly overcome by this feeling of dread.  A feeling of knowing that I would never see the light of day again.  I could not feel my legs they were pinned an I couldn’t move I could still breath but it hurt as I struggled to take air.  It was then that I woke up and in that moment out of the corner of my eye I saw Chuck.  It wasn’t just a shadow or a figment of my overactive imagination but him there in the shadows in the corner of my room, his mining hat with the little circle of light shining its pale unearthly beam”. 

Jeremy became choked up.  “That light illuminated him.  I don’t think that it should have been possible but it was like an eerie spotlight on this gory display.  The right side of his face covered in black soot.  The only clean spots were the tracks down his cheek undoubtedly left by tears that flowed from the only eye left in his head.  The right eye had been forced from its socket and lay flat against the broken nose. The same crushing force that had undoubtedly caused these injuries had unhinged the right jaw and caused it to hang askew giving him a ghastly under bite.  He had reached out with both arms toward me.  His voice with that awful squeaky gasping wheeze. Exhale wheeze.  Inhale squeaky gasp that reminded me of a horn I once had on a bicycle.  I sat there terrified unable to move.  Then the light suddenly went out and he was gone. 

Bryce reached out to comfort his friend by placing a hand on his shoulder.

I thought it was just part of the bad dream until I woke up this morning and everything in my bedroom was covered in coal dust and I followed a set of bloody size 13 boot prints down stairs to the kitchen.  All the cabinets were open.

“The Ouija board, it’s all fun and games until someone gets haunted.”

“Damn it Bryce, I’m fucking serious!  This is real shit, I am not playing."

Bryce starred his friend dead in the eye. "Man I'm serious too and I don’t doubt what you are telling me is the god’s honest. But what you guys didn't realize before you went skipping off into the night conjuring up spirits is that being able to talk to the dead is a gift that if you have it you don't want it. My grandmother used to tell me that there are two things that you should never play with: guns and the dead.  I never understood her superstitious ramblings but I do know that if you’re contacting the dead you’d better have a damn good reason because that shit is no game.