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A game they say

You play…on a dark and stormy night.

But the rain can’t keep away

The dead…who are looking for the light.



It was a night such as this many years ago. I brought my Ouija board to a cabin in Cape Cod. My best friend and I willing to give it a try; I knew it wasn’t a game; this metaphysical tool, so I came prepared, and read from a book…



We closed our eyes

And let go of all negativity.

We laxed our minds

So they may communicate with me



We opened the board, and rested our fingers gingerly atop the planchette. I studied his fingers, making sure he was not in control. He studied mine as well, and then movement! We laughed thinking of movies past and how stupid we felt.



Lightning danced outside the glass

And we jumped when something fell

To the window to see what had smashed.

Just a branch, not the opening of Hell.



Alas we returned to the table and the planchette on the board. Was this mere coincidence, or was there a driving force? I look at my friend…more serious than before, once again we rested our fingers, hoping this doesn’t end in a room full of gore.



We asked for a name

G – O – B – E – Z

Is what he gave.

So we paused and we thought

“You ask the question” I said.

Of the answer I’ll know not.



My friend asked GOBEZ, the spirit in tow…”When is my sister’s birthday?” The answer, I did not know. To the numbers the planchette went…9…1…7…7…8. “Is that it?” I hushed to my friend. “Shhh!” He silenced me, waiting for it to end.



To “No!” the curser flew

To “7” it remained.

9-17-78 was not her birthday

9-17-77 was the date.



The room grew cold; goosebumps on exposed flesh. I could tell he wasn’t moving it, and so this game was just getting started. My friend and I had plans to go to Rocky Point. To party at a theme park at the end of the week, and so we asked this kindly spirit…



“Gobez, how will our trip to Rocky Point fair?”



D - A - N - G - E - R



Was spelled, and read loud and clear.

We laughed and we smirked

But Gobez added more…



D – O – N – T - D – R – I – V – E

.

.

.

We thanked him for communicating with us, and just to be safe, we walked outside and inspected the car which appeared in ship shape. A week had passed and my friend calls me up. “We have a problem…” he said “I don’t know how, but my break lines were cut.”



I was shocked of course

So we set up the board.

To thank Gobez

For his last minute warn.



But just then when we said unto him that we were still planning to go, again he was vigil and wrote us a note…



D – A – N – G – E – R



Was spelled just like before

We laughed and we smirked

But again, he added more…



T – H – E - F – L – U – M – E



Our eyes widened...

...is our favorite thing to do.



8:00pm Gobez said…do not go on The Flume or we might end up dead. The day finally came, and we’re at the park, having fun well into the dark. We look at The Flume, it’s working just fine, when two girls look at us, and invite us on the ride.



We look at each other

But what the hell?

You only live once

And stepped over the rail.



My heart was racing

And had almost stopped

When the ride ceased

As we neared the top.



I looked down at my watch…



…and it was eight o’clock….







By: Jay Bird

Copyright © 2007



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OUIJA WARNING...



PLAYING WITH A OUIJA BOARD IS LIKE DIALING UP A RANDOM PHONE NUMBER. YOU NEVER KNOW WHO YOU ARE GOING TO GET ON THE OTHER END OF THE PHONE.



WHY YOU SHOULD AVOID USING A OUIJA BOARD:



HAVE YOU EVER USED ONE? (YOU SHOULD AVOID USING A OUIJA BOARD COMPLETELY BECAUSE IT MAY OPEN A DIMENSIONAL DOORWAY, OR PORTAL FOR LESS THAN DESIREABLE NEGATIVE PARANORMAL ACTIVITY (SPIRITS) THE INTENTION WHEN USING A OUIJA BOARD IS TO CONJURE UP THE DEAD ETC... THE INTENT ALONE LEAVES US VULNERABLE TO OPPOSING FORCES TO COME THROUGH. IT MAY BE LIKE OPENING UP A "PANDORA'S BOX" SO TO SPEAK. POWERFUL, AND VERY HARD TO GET RID OF. THIS INFORMATION IS BASED ON HUNDREDS OF DOCUMENTED CASES THROUGHOUT TIME. IT'S DANGEROUS, AND NOT A GAME!

There are leaves playing with debris out in the streets (and it’s home to me). Tears fill my head to the point of sea sickness, causing me to stagger along; like a drunken pirate.



I’m on a road to ruin where life slows to a crawl. Figuratively on my hands and knees, filthy & begrimed most of the time, and I must lie down.



Oh please let me rest; I beg for the ground to bare my hindrances, and help me quicken my pace toward extinction. There are no crossroads, no signs, and no sunlight, just the midnight blue and a few stars which accompany the moon. Slovenly I meander through the thickening shadows gaining strength until they are shoulder to shoulder.



Insects crawl upon my flesh, looking to burrow themselves a new home. I smack my neck upon their touch, but to the flies, I am only muck. I’m too exhausted to fight this war and swathe a path through the swarm. Let them fly, let ‘em creep and crawl and multiply...at least my body will not completely go to waste.



Everything I touch is covered in winter’s gown. I’m so out of breath, when I collapse there is no sound. Face down, my mouth to the ground, I inhale deep. This is it, finally...the punctuation to my life.



…and it’s disappointing at best.



.



I look though watery eyes…at hands blistered, bleeding and sore, raw from clawing the earthen floor. Fingernails bending back from rocks and roots in their path. I am numb to the severity of abuse I put myself through. A grave so shallow, birds will perch upon my wings; their new home on rigor mortised limbs.



My eyes close to the sound of buzzards crooning over dinner, like silverware scraping across a plate; and I’ve just one fear left... That death just ended, and the rotting, and chewing, and burrowing of my flesh will be felt by the deadened heart within my chest.





S.C.R.E.A.M..I..N.G in cadaverous spasms...



...my life is unchanged.