TALES BY FIRELIGHT - TODAY, TEAM MEMBER AND FABULOUS AUTHOR, LORRAINE CAREY, SHARES WITH US HER SHORT STORY, 'ECHOES FROM THE BOARD'

ECHOES FROM 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 her mother’s homemade pizza and decadent chocolate cake. But as they gathered around the backyard fire pit, the flames crackling against the cold March air, an unease settled between them.

The night felt… off. It wasn’t just Amelia’s mother, Linda, who was unusually quiet tonight, but it was the way the wind shifted, causing a few of the religious statues Linda had in the yard to tumble over.

The girls watched as she picked them up and heard her mumbling about something as she walked along the backyard. A breeze slithered through the trees, carrying whispers. Just the wind, Linda told herself.

After Amelia’s father left for his night shift, the girls swapped eerie tales, their breath misting in the cold night air. Linda, 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 Board 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 the name John.”

“And he said he was dead,” Amelia finished. “He said he died in a car crash. Hit a tree not far from here.”

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. She had had many encounters with using white magic, but managed to keep a few of the darker side to herself. Coming from an Italian family, her grandmother had told her of the many legends of their ancestors possessing special gifts on her side of the family, especially the women. She also knew her grandmother was the Strega in her village of Pacentro, Italy, and had healed and helped those in the village who dealt with curses, illness, and other strange maladies.

Amelia loved to listen to her mother tell these stories but never divulged them to her friends for fear she and her family would be labeled as witches.

Linda carried out a tray of steaming hot tea as she listened to the girls carrying on with their accounts of that night.

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.

Linda’s throat tightened, almost dropping the tray, but she managed to deliver the cups to each of the girls.

“Yes, we had made contact,” Grace murmured. “It was the coolest thing ever!”

“That’s until 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 pure 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 the 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. April nights were still chilly in Ohio, and Amelia knew that sweater would come in handy.

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!” Amelia shouted as she held up the shiny new 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 acquiring possessions after fooling around innocently with these things. Those boards are not to be messed with. ”

The girls fell silent after listening to Linda’s harsh words

Mia apologized and proclaimed she didn’t mean any harm.

Linda’s gaze turned to Mia, “I’m sure you didn’t mean to, dear, but we just can’t take any chances again. I’m sure you understand.”

The party soon dwindled. The fire dimmed. Linda knew what she had to do—she would destroy the board in the morning while Amelia was still asleep.

The night air grew colder, and the girls knew it was time to leave.

But at 2 a.m., Amelia sat awake. The new board had beckoned her.

She threw on her robe and crept downstairs, heart pounding, as she sat at the kitchen table staring at the board. She couldn’t deny there was this pull toward her as if the board was tempting her.

Her fingers shook as they rested on the planchette. Just one question, she thought, just one.

“Who am I speaking to?” She whispered, not wanting to wake her parents up.

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. “Who is David? Is he here?”

D-A-V-I-D. J-O-H-N.

“You are both here?”

Y-E-S

She couldn’t believe she had contacted two spirits.

Her fingers tingled. The board hummed beneath her touch, her fingers feeling hot.

“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.

“What happened?”

C-A-R A-C-C-I-D-E-N-T

Amelia paused for a moment. She thought she heard something stirring upstairs. She knew she couldn’t go on if she woke her parents.

When she was sure all was clear, she carried on with her querying.

“What happened?”

J-O-H-N -H-I-T-T-R-E-E

“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 reaching up to the roof of the market. Instinctively she knew what she needed to do and she had to do it tonight.

Shaking, she grabbed a trowel and a flashlight from the back shed and dug up the old burnt board. She set it on the passenger side of her car along with the new board and drove into the darkness of the night heading toward Nelson’s Market.

At the gnarled oak, she buried both boards far 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.”

**********

COMING SOON: On Wednesday 2nd July, our guest author, John Howard, shares an excerpt from his novel, 'A Scandal of Secrets'.