Ouiji Board

A forgotten attic, a single candle, and an old Ouiji board resting on warped floorboards. Dust hangs in the air like breath held too long. The letters on the board fade in and out under the flickering flame, as if remembering their shapes. You and the others sit in a tight circle, fingertips lightly touching the planchette, following the board’s old rules without question. The room feels too quiet, too still, as though something unseen has paused to listen. When the planchette finally moves, it’s slow and unsure, sliding as if waking after years of silence. The questions start simple, the answers slower still. But the air grows heavier with every letter spelled. A presence lingers at the edge of the circle, unseen but unmistakable. It is patient. It is waiting. And the board has already accepted the invitation you didn’t know you offered.