A campfire story by Lorraine Carey
Bound by the Board
Amelia Petrillo’s twenty-first
birthday was supposed to be a cozy night with her best friends—Mia, Emily, and
Grace—celebrating over homemade pizza and decadent chocolate cake. But as they
gathered around the backyard firepit, the flames crackling against the cold
March air, an unease settled between them.
The night felt… off.
After Amelia’s father left for his
night shift, the girls swapped eerie tales, their breath misting in the cold.
Linda, Amelia’s mother, joined them, as she had joined in on numerous
celebratory occasions with her daughter’s friends.
“Amelia, tell that story,” Mia
prodded. “You know the one.”
Amelia hesitated, then smirked. “Oh,
you mean the Ouija night?” She cast a glance at her mother, whose lips
tightened, displaying her disapproval. “It was two days before Halloween,
remember? We sat in my kitchen, fingers on the planchette—”
“It moved on its own!” Emily
interrupted, eyes wide.
Grace whispered, “It spelled out John.”
“And he said he was dead,” Amelia
finished. “He said he died in a car crash. Hit a tree.”
The fire popped, sending a swirl of
embers skyward. Linda’s knuckles whitened around her coffee mug. She vividly
recalled that night when she was a part of that Quiji session, herself being no
stranger to using divination tools. A breeze slithered through the trees,
carrying whispers. Just the wind, Linda told herself.
Mia’s voice wavered. “The candles
flickered wildly, like something… breathed on them.”
“I thought they were cool. Your mother
lit them to add to the ambiance,” Emily said.
“Yes, we had made contact,” Grace
murmured.
“And then it started to use cuss
words,” Emily added, pulling her sweater tighter around her.
Linda set down her mug. “That’s why I
burned and buried that board.” Her voice was tight, urgent. “That thing was evil.
Do you know where I buried it? No grass has ever grown there. Not once.” She
pointed to the bare patch of dirt in the yard, blackened even under moonlight.
Amelia shivered. “I know you did what
you thought was right, Mom, but I wish we had asked more questions.”
Linda’s eyes darkened. “You shouldn’t
wish for that. You never know who or what you are summoning.”
The subject changed to gifts, but
tension lingered like unseen hands pressing on their shoulders.
Cheers were heard as Amelia pulled out
a sparkling pair of faux emerald earrings from Grace.
Emily’s white sweater with pearl
buttons also won praise as Amelia held it up against herself, and everyone
commented on how beautiful she’d look in it.
As Amelia unwrapped Mia’s gift, the
fire seemed to hush itself. The crackling dulled. Shadows deepened.
She lifted the lid of the large white
box.
A new Ouija board!
Linda’s breath hitched. “Not in this
house.”
“I thought… maybe we should finish
what we started,” Mia whispered “I mean, maybe what happened that night was
just a fluke?”
Linda’s gaze was sharp. “A fluke? I
think not! Too many people end up having bad luck or even possessions after
fooling around innocently with these things. Those boards are not to be messed
with. ”
The party dwindled. The fire dimmed.
Linda knew what she had to do—she would destroy the board in the morning.
The night air grew colder, and the
girls knew it was time to leave.
But at 2 a.m., Amelia sat awake. The
board had beckoned her.
She crept downstairs, heart pounding, as she sat at the kitchen table staring at the
board.
Her fingers shook as they rested on
the planchette. Just one question, she thought-just one.
“Who am I speaking to?”
The planchette jerked.
J-O-H-N.
Amelia’s blood ran cold.
“You again! What do you want?”
The planchette dragged her fingers.
D-A-V-I-D.
A sharp inhale. “Is David here?”
D-A-V-I-D. J-O-H-N.
Two of them?
She couldn’t believe she had contacted
two spirits.
Her fingers tingled. The board hummed
beneath her touch.
“Who are you, David? What do you want?”
The planchette raced across the board:
Need to be with my friend. I forgive
him. John still blames himself. It wasn’t his fault.
The air thickened, heavy as drowning.
“Where did this happen?”
O-L-D O-A-K. N-E-L-S-O-N-S M-A-R-K-E-T.
Amelia’s heart stopped. She knew that
tree; she knew that market. She’d shopped there with her mother when she was a
little girl. The old market had been closed for years now, but the huge tree
was still there. She knew what she needed to do.
Shaking, she grabbed a trowel, dug up
the old burnt board, and drove into the darkness of the night with both boards
set on the passenger side of the car.
At the gnarled oak, she buried both
boards beneath its roots. A sudden wind kicked up stirring the leaves.
And in the hush of the night—
She heard a faint whisper.
“Thank you.”
Lorraine Carey
https://authorlorrainecarey.blogspot.com/
Lorraine Carey is a reading specialist and an Award-Winning Author. She was living in California until fate whisked her off to Grand Cayman. She currently lives in Florida. Her love for paranormal stories began at a young age, and is no stranger to the paranormal, having encountered unexplainable events that are woven into her stories.