Suggested Audio Candy:
Creepy Pasta Ouija
“This is never going to work you know. It’s a crock of shit”. Manny was one of life’s realists and held out little hope of making contact with the dead. He had attempted the same thing a couple of years back and was just as skeptical then. Invariably it had all ended in disappointment, although he had been more interested in being the one to tell his friends “I told you so.” In his opinion this was just over-indulgent claptrap, an opinion not shared by his friends, particularly Elizabeth, who was fascinated with the occult and had first-hand experience that contact can be made if channeled in the appropriate manner. “Nobody wants you here anyway. Shit Manny, doesn’t it get tiresome being such a non-entity?” she barked. “Doesn’t it get tiresome licking clits?” was the only response he could muster and was typically unintelligible as Liz had only ever experimented with the same-sex once before, back in tenth grade but Manny was determined not to let her hear the last of it.
“Tell you what. Next time I do it I’ll give you a tutorial, how would that be? From what Christie Grimes told me, you couldn’t tell her labia from her asshole. Maybe that’s why you spout endless shit” Once again, he had found himself up against a formidable opponent as Elizabeth was nothing if not quick-witted. “Fuck you dyke” he rasped, fully aware that he had come off a distinct second in this particular exchange and desperate to save face. Layla rolled her eyes, this was par for the course where these two were concerned as they made no effort to hide their disdain for one another. She’d long since given up trying to reconcile the pair and found it easier now just to switch off and let them get on with it. Still, it seemed a shame to her as they had been close friends since kindergarten right up to the moment when Manny decided to leak this sensitive data to his new-found friends as he attempted to fit in at school. Now they were sworn enemies and poor Layla always had to be the one picking up the pieces. She was sick to the back teeth of acting as go-between but, despite Manny’s brash demeanor, she couldn’t help but have a soft spot for him so she generally let it slide.
“So are we gonna do this then or what?” Layla decided that the best course of action was to move swiftly on and wasn’t about to let their petty quarrels come between them doing what they had come here to do. “I’d rather not sit here watching you two trade blows all night. Do you know I’m missing True Blood for this?” she continued. “Okay then, seeing as we appear to be stuck with you Manny, shall we just get this over with?” Liz responded. “Go for it. I need a good laugh anyways” Manny quipped, always the pessimist. “Dick” Liz couldn’t resist the final word. “Lesbian” Neither could Manny. Layla had had enough by this point “Enough already. For fuck’s sake people, can you just pretend to get along just this once? Humor me please.” Silence was about the best response she could hope for given the pair’s bad blood and, for once, they played ball.
Elizabeth dimmed the lights. She had suggested using her parent’s summer-house as it was unoccupied and afforded them the quiet they would need to make this work. She had ‘borrowed’ the Ouija board from her parents and both had a vested interest in the paranormal. Years of listening to her dad’s vinyl Sisters of Mercy collection had led to her taking the Gothic route, black lipstick and eye-liner attested to this. This drove a further wedge between her and Manny as his ‘in-crowd’ frowned upon anything deemed alternative. The new intimate lighting at least meant that a shadow was cast over his gormless face. He was skating on thin ice, one more sarcastic remark and she would send him packing, regardless of the fact that Layla had pleaded with her to let him tag along in the first place.
Liz slid the Ouija out of its case and placed the planchette in place at the center of the board. “So what do we do?” Layla asked. “All place our hands on the pointer and wait for Elizabeth to move it and blame it on the spirits” Manny joked. “That’s it I’m done! Get off my property you fucking weasel” Liz jumped up and pointed to the door. “Fine. It’s a load of bollocks anyway” Manny rose to his feet, knocking the spirit board from the table and walked out. Layla gave Liz a look of scorn and hurriedly followed him out to appease the situation. “Manny?” she called but he was already halfway up the garden path so she picked up pace and grabbed him by the arm. “Please Manny” she pleaded. “No Layla, I’m sick of her psychotic bullshit.” She tried another tactic and gave him the puppy dog eyes as she knew he was powerless against these. “You’re such a bitch, you know that?” He broke a smile and stopped in his tracks. “I’m telling you though, you really need to think long and hard about the company you keep” he said sternly. “Love you babe” She knew exactly how to wrap him round her little finger.
When they returned, Manny kept up his end of the bargain and sat quietly while Liz explained the rules, looking only in Layla’s direction as she did. “Got it. Right then, let’s raise the dead” Layla readjusted herself in her set and Manny simply shrugged before all three touched fingers lightly on the planchette. “Remember, spirits are notoriously poor spellers so you have to take that into consideration and don’t say anything to piss them off as this ain’t a toy and the repercussions can be dreadful” Liz reminded them, this time focusing her attention squarely at Manny. To his credit, he remained tight-lipped although his look spoke a thousand words and it was clear that he just wanted to get this over with.
Fifteen minutes passed and nothing. Try as he did not to make some flippant remark, it was all getting too much for Manny and he had other places he would much rather be than sitting opposite the one girl who he loathed the most. “Sorry Layla. I’m done. You can’t say I didn’t give it a fair crack but it’s clearly not happening. I don’t want to say I told you so but…I told you so.” He broke the circle and made his way out and this time Layla didn’t try and dissuade him. Instead she looked over at Liz and stated the obvious. “We’re not going to contact the spirits tonight hun. We tried.” Liz smiled in an attempt at concealing her disappointment. “Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow alright?” she suggested. She could tell Liz was frustrated despite her best attempts not to show it but it just wasn’t happening. With that, she gave her friend a squeeze and exited the summer-house also.
Liz waited until she was out of earshot before exhibiting her annoyance. “What a complete fucking waste of time and energy.” She glanced once more at the planchette which was still motionless and decided to give it one last try before she too gave up the ghost. “Is there anybody there?” She waited a full minute but nothing was doing so she got up to turn on the lights feeling utterly dejected. As she did, she heard a sound coming from behind her and, as she swung around to investigate, she noticed that the planchette was now firmly pointed to yes. With belief now reaffirmed she sat back down and commenced with a new line of questioning.
“Are you here with me now?” she asked. Her fingers were barely touching the planchette and she instantly felt it slide back to affirmative. “What is your name?” she continued. W…I…L…L…I…A…M. “How did you die?” She sat fixated while the spirit spelt out his answer. H…U…N…G. “You hung yourself?” NO. “You were…executed?” YES. “Why were you executed?” M…U…D…E…R. “Murder? Of course. You mean murder?” YES. “You killed people?” YES. “How many people did you murder?” 1…4. “14?” YES. She felt her heart sink a little as the realization set in that she had contacted a particularly malevolent spirit.
“Do you want to kill again?” she asked, reluctant to hear the answer. YES. Against her better judgement, she proceeded with the next question. “Who?” This time there was a slight pause and then the planchette slid back into action. M…A…N…Y. “Many?” NO. It was most decisive with its response. This left Liz both bemused and somewhat spooked and she decided that she didn’t wish to continue any further so loosened her grip on the instrument and turned on the light. She was tempted to glance back one more time but this time restrained from doing so and returned to the house, leaving the Ouija where it laid. As she secured the door and walked away the Ouija sprang back into action one last time. M…A…N…N…Y.
Manny walked in through his front door and headed straight for the refrigerator to claim a quart of milk. Whilst guzzling it back, his phone message alert sounded. It was Layla. THX 4 COMIN 2NITE. SORRY IT WAS A WASTE OF TIME XX. He couldn’t be bothered to reply so left his cell on the side and walked into the lounge where the television was pretty much on full volume. There, laid out and unconscious, was his mother. Beside her was an empty bottle of Bourbon and it was clear that once again she had drunk herself into a stupor. “Mom…really?” He was used to this shit, since his father had left it had become almost a daily ritual. He turned off the TV and threw a blanket over her, before turning out the light and leaving her to sleep it off. “Happy hangover” was his parting shot as he headed off upstairs.
After brushing his teeth for the customary twenty seconds, he made his way to his bedroom and stripped down to his jockeys, leaving his clothes in an unkempt pile on the floor beside his bed. The night had been a complete cop out, just as he had forecast and he was determined that this was the last time he would agree to anything so utterly preposterous. On the plus side, tomorrow heralded the start of the weekend and he had every intention of being out of the house before his mother woke from her inebriated slumber. A few of his friends were planning on taking a trip to the mall to hang out and smoke weed and this was for more appealing to him than an evening contacting the dead with the psycho bitch from hell. He switched off his bedside light and settled in underneath his divan.
After a couple of minutes his eyes became accustomed to the darkness and he instantly began to feel distinctly uneasy. Over by the corner, in the darkest recess of his room, was a figure of sorts. He squinted his eyes to discern more clearly and it appeared that a man was standing there looking directly at him. This man was clearly nearly seven-foot tall and enveloped in blackness although a passing car outside illuminated the corner just enough to reveal his face. It was gnarled and distorted and Manny could just about make out his cold, emotionless eyes which were transfixed with the youngster. He froze where he laid as another flash of illumination revealed the glint of an axe by the figure’s side. Manny attempted to scream and it exited in nothing more than a faint whistle as the intruder strode nonchalantly across the room and raised the gleaming blade above his head. His mom was a heavy sleeper and didn’t hear the muted commotion coming from upstairs. After a short struggle it fell silent once more.
Click here to read Don’t Exit The Vehicle
Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2014
