100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2019 #41

'HELUEHLU

Whenever new groups show up on the paranormal scene they all go through the same growth process. The first is coming up with a cool name, the second is getting all the latest ʻparanormalʻ equipment and the third is that they emulate whatever they see on reality television. The fourth is that they compare themselves to other existing groups as better than the established ones. Great way to make friends guys.
There are a few exceptions of course, and what I mean by that is that there are a rare few who took the time to study the science and research of parapsychology. Itʻs great to talk with them and exchange thoughts and theories with those persons. Quite often, people from those groups ask for my advice on whatever the subject may be. Whether they actually follow my advice is another matter entirely. For example, one small group who sort of came and went as most do in this field asked for my advice on the use of Ouija boards. Now, before I move forward with my explanation of the advice I imparted to these young people, I must pause here and tell you that eleven years ago I sought to do a traveling ouija board tour where we would go to three haunted locations to channel historical figures. Without advertising it, which I should have, the conclusion of the tour was where I would say that the Ouija board was invented by toymakers the Parker Brothers and then owned by Hasbro, another toy company later on. The first stop would have been at the palace where as part of the advertisement I said something to the effect of, "What if we channel the spirit of the King Kalakaua?"

I never said that we were going to actually try and conjure the spirit of our late King but it was too late, the dye had already been cast and what I should have explained from the beginning was already too late to say. Many people came after me, expressing hate and bile and calling me a POS (a piece of shit) and a fake Hawaiian and many other things on social media. The majority of them hid behind fake accounts. Thankfully, it was eleven years ago so looking up someoneʻs information in a particular way was not yet illegal. Fake accounts or not, I found out who these people actually were. Although some made me upset, and others broke my heart, Iʻve said nothing of who these people are. Even today. You could say that it's been my perverse pleasure to look them in the eye, knowing very well that they were the cowardly culprits who sing my praises and extoll my virtues to my face but cast me as the devil himself behind my back.

Be that as it may, my advice to these young people as to the use of the Ouija board was simple, "Everything is based on intent, even though itʻs sold as a toy, remember that a hammer is a hammer until you decide to kill someone with it. Then, it becomes a murder weapon."

They thanked me and went on their way. Not less than a week later, I receive a call at three in the morning from the very same group. They are in the McCully Zippyʻs parking lot. They are freaked out. From the other end of the phone, I can hear crying and screams of terror. I arrive at three-thirty exactly. Before I say anything to them, I begin to examine them for marks, scratches, or bruises. Nothing, physically theyʻre fine, nothing to worry about there.

"What happened?" I ask. They all try to explain at the same time so I point to the one boy standing in front of me. "You talk, what happened?"

The boy goes on to say that they got a hold of an Ouija board, and rather than play it in a graveyard or at a sacred location, they felt that the safest place to play it would be the McDonaldʻs on Beretania. After all, itʻs McDonaldʻs, the happiest place in the world, nothing bad ever happens there. They arrived at nine in the evening, an hour or so before closing. The place was crowded with people, the homeless, the bereft, and a few families. It made them feel safe with so many people around. They all went and got burgers and drinks and crowded into a booth where they discreetly removed the Ouija board from its package. Moving their burgers and fries out of the way they quickly placed it in the middle of the table and then put the planchette together. Now, their fingertips were on the heart-shaped divining planchette. The first question was asked in a whisper that only they could hear among themselves, ʻIf there are any spirits in this McDonaldʻs please come talk to us, let us know youʻre here."

There were no juvenile giggles exchanged among them, they all kept a lookout for any customers nearby who would see what they were doing and then report them to the manager. The planchette didnʻt move right away, but the same question was asked two more times. "If they are any spirits in this McDonalndʻs please come talk to us."

The planchette jerked forward suddenly and glided effortlessly across the board and spelled out the words, "IN-THE-CORNER"

Everyone let out a stifled gasp, together they scanned all four corners of the store until they saw in the far left corner, sitting on a stool next to the drink dispenser, a homeless person dressed in a dark gray sweater and pants. His hands and feet were black and his face was hidden under his oversized hoodie. The group couldnʻt see his face, but they knew that whoever he was, he was staring directly at them. "Itʻs just a coincidence," the one girl whispered. "No need to panic."

They were all breathing a lot more heavily and their eyes were wide with fear, some were crying. The boy said that he doesnʻt remember who asked and that it might have actually been him, but someone asked the spirit to identify itself to them. The restaurant was teeming with customer noises, cashiers taking orders, swing managers yelling at the grill for special orders, homeless people laughing for no apparent reason. Just the normal sounds in a crowded McDonaldʻs restaurant. The boy said that all the sounds came together like a crescendo above the din until it became one high pitched deafening ring. They all put their hands over their ears because of how painful the sound became, then, in front of them the planchette moved on itʻs own.

"It spelled out,ʻ the boy began. "The letter A, then Z,"

"Stop right there," I put my hand out." Donʻt even finish spelling out the letters and do not say the name."

"But thatʻs how we..." the boy started but I cut him off.

"But, my ass," I growled at them. I reached into my wallet and pulled out a sticky note. The boy reached for it but I held it out for the girl standing next to him to take. The note was still folded. "Call this number, this is the only person that can help you.."

"How do you know?" The boy asked in a panic as his friends let out a few, "oh shits", and "fuck meʻs."

"Call it," I nodded to the girl. She nodded in return and placed the note in her pocket.

"Can you at least pray over us or something?" He pleaded through tears and a face red with frustration.

"Youʻre beyond prayer," I said to him. "Youʻre friends still have a chance, but not you." I got back in my car and as I drove off I looked in my rearview mirror purely out of habit. The group was huddled together and conferencing over something. Thatʻs when I saw the boy look up and glance my way. The pupils of his eyes glowed a cobalt blue color, he blinked once and it was gone.

............

DAYS LATER

"Itʻs a smart way to do it," I had to admire father Hector for his ingenuity. I always called him the Portuguese Joe Biden."I would have never thought of it."

"It weeds out the wannabees and nut cases thatʻs for sure," Father Hector held up his glass of red wine as a toast, and as a sign that we could begin to partake of his eggplant parmesan. "I admire the respect you show to men of all faiths when it comes to matters like this. You donʻt try to take it on yourself, and in a way, you encourage people to renew their faith in their own beliefs."

"It just makes sense," I replied before indulging in my first bite of the wide noodle and sauce. "Why smudge when youʻre a Buddhist?"

"Iʻll have to remember that one," Father Hector laughed.

"So, that girl called you then?" I wanted to be certain that everything worked out.

"Yes, and she and her group got a good scolding in the process. She told me where they hang out but I never really said when I would go there. I just showed up unexpectedly and performed the ritual on the spot." He nodded over the steam which came from his own well-cooked dish. "Luckily, the girl who called described the boy who was in need of help. It made it easier to single him out. Heʻs good now, he may suffer the after-effects, but heʻs fine."

...............

THE LESSON

I guess the lesson in all this is that prudence is a good practice before undertaking an endeavor into the investigative realm. Make sure that investigating the paranormal is what you really want to do. If so, then do all the research required. There are academic institutions out there that are meant to help you if you are new to the field. Seek advice from those who have been around longer rather than attack them online. 

If you intend on conjuring things that you donʻt understand or donʻt know how to deal with, then donʻt do it. Demonology and its study is a real thing and it takes years of learning. You canʻt know it all in one weekend from some online course. They just want your money. Otherwise, stick to Fortnite or D&D, or volunteer at the local bingo hall.

Oh, and I forgot! The conversation that father Hector and I had about the way in which his contact information was given out was because it wasnʻt written down in numbers as we know it. It was written like this.

DCCCVIII CCCIII MMCXXXVIII