SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

Desiree's breathing was deliberate. Her fingers dug harder into the planchette, desperately trying not to jitter. Her heart screamed at her and begged—no, pleaded—for her to stop.

But she didn't want to. She couldn't. The message. She needed to know the message.

She ignored Violet and proceeded onward, more words rending out from her dry throat.

"What's..." She swallowed spit. "What's the message?"

Violet started coughing uncontrollably. Something was getting to her here and she knew exactly what it was. She lifted a hand from the planchette and covered her mouth with her sleeve.

Next?

She thought she knew what that meant, and she didn't like it.

"Can we contact a different one?" she asked, in between gasps for breath.

Next? What was next? Who was next? It couldn't have been talking about one of them, could it? It certainly wasn't talking about Desiree. It couldn't have. Right?

It was time to hang up. "Ye-Yeah, yeah," Desiree's voice shook. She moved the planchette over to the "Goodbye" immediately. For Violet's sake, of course.

Her fingers didn't move off the planchette, staying firmly in place as best they could.

"Do you... do you want to keep going? W-we could stop... you know, if you want."

Violet, though uncomfortable, shook her head. She just needed a few moments to compose herself, and to breathe. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead.

"We're looking for your pet, aren't we?" she said. At some point, their original purpose had been muddied.

"We have one more left to try. Let's see if they're like the others, and if they are, then maybe we stop, but if they aren't, then let's press on."

She blinked her eyes a few times.

"If you want to keep going, then let's keep going."

Desiree limply nodded her head. "I... I do."

For Toby.

She bit her bottom lip and stared at the stationary planchette for some time. "Ready when you, uh, are."

Violet nodded and wiped at her eyes. Her hands came back slightly damp.



"Alright," she said, once her hands were back on the planchette, "are there any spirits remaining who would like to speak with us?"



She sat back and waited for an answer, looking at a moonbeam caught on the ceiling, stolen from a gap in a curtain and reflected off of a shard of broken glass.

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Several moments passed with nothing happening, but Desiree knew; she felt it up there. Up in that darkness that loomed just above the dimly lit couple and the Ouija board. Oppressing them. Smothering them.

For whatever reason, they were at a stalemate. Was it trying to test them or something?

Desiree coughed, waiting to see what Violet would do to encourage it to speak.

Violet did nothing.

Desiree couldn't take the silence any longer.

"We know you're there, just answer the damn question."

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...

























Violet did nothing.

Tap-tap-tap tapped Desiree's heel as it bounced up and down on the wood floor, waiting for something. Anything.












The apple odor was nauseating.

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"SAY SOMETHING, YOU LOUSY FUCKING—"



—suddenly, the planchette began to move.