My Halloween Lover

It started out as a joke on that Friday evening. It was the night before Halloween and Bill had invited the whole gang over for dinner. They planned to watch a new movie coming on television. You would think working all day with a bunch of guys would make you want to leave them behind, but they had been friends since high school. All of us were closer than a thicket of fleas. Still, it made for a hectic household by the time I came in from work, as five men in one room were about all I could handle at one time.

As I pushed my way into the house, several of the guys waved or yelled a welcome as they sprawled over various chairs and the sofa. Jon, Jamie, and Tim were sitting around laughing at the antics being displayed on some kind of comic sitcom while waiting for Bill and Earl to finish dinner. I sighed good-naturally at the guys, as they were generally a good bunch of "rowdies". Since none of them was much into drinking beer or even worse vices, it was unremarkably like having a gang of young boys in for a sleep over. On occasion, they would even start a pillow fight and I would have to be the bad guy and break up the fun. Much better, I thought, than letting them break up the house or having to divorce Bill.

Bill and his best friend Earl were busy in the kitchen making spaghetti. Not that making spaghetti is surprising by itself because it was almost a ritual for many Friday nights. Earl had found another recipe for a special sauce. It was a point of honor, I think, that each week it had to be a different kind of sauce made by a different pair of the guys. All of them took turns finding a new way to wage war in my kitchen. That night, it was Bill and Earl's turn. Between the pair of them, they created disaster once again and the kitchen appeared to have been painted a funky orange color.

It did not matter than neither one of them could cook worth a hoot; they continuously tried to come up with some sort of concoction that everyone would eat. Most of the time, their cooking looked like an experiment in progressive art, that usually ended up progressing all over the walls, floor and ceiling

As to the food, once it was on a plate, it usually looked like an experiment that had gone horribly wrong. Oh, everyone ate the stuff, more out of friendship, I think, than anything else. In addition, verbal threats to their manhood were freely offered if someone did not clean their plate and, with maybe just a bit of faith, that they would not die at the hands of people who were supposed to be lifelong friends. Funny, though. Most of the time, it was just like the three Musketeers between the men with the "all for one and one for all" mentality.

An hour later, all of them wandered back into the living room. Finding nothing on TV worth watching and deciding the movie was boring, Bill started telling his ghost stories. Bill tended to collect weird stories he heard about houses and other places like other folks collected stamps. I know. For a man who worked as a health inspector for the county, it seemed a strange hobby. Yet, I think he was at his happiest when he could retell them to his friends. In fact, he loved watching people look furtively around a dark room while he was telling a story and often had the house rigged so that a light would mysteriously come on or the table would move right at a crucial point. It really made his day.

Since I am not overly fond of ghost stories, I tried not to listen to the narration in the living room. I do not need any help like that, especially anything that causes me to have nightmares. I hear enough strange sounds in this old house to make me believe there are ghosts as it is. The real estate agent had disclosed the information that our house had a reputation for being haunted. Some folks believed soldiers haunted our house, the old Landaus homestead, from the Civil War. Others said it was the first owner of the house who, after assaulting one of his slave women, had been caught by the woman's husband. The husband supposedly hanged, dismembered and buried the old man in the root cellar.

I am skeptical about such stories, even if I do have a tendency to get scared at night, but I did not want to push my luck by meeting any of them as they wandered around the premises. Yet, as it would happen, that information had filled Bill with glee. He was gloriously happy telling all our friends he believed this place was old enough to have a gaggle of spirits. Just what I wanted to remember whenever I heard things "go bump in the night" when everyone else was asleep. Shaking my head, I went into the kitchen and began cleaning up the mess.

At some point, the stories had turned to the subject of Ouija boards. Each of the guys told their own story about what had happened when someone they knew had played with one. I do not know whose idea it was to play an Ouija board that night, but apparently, Jon knew how to make one. They decided to conduct their own experiment that evening.

While I was putting away the dishes and scraping the remains of the spaghetti into a bowl for the dog, Jon demonstrated how to make a board by cutting letters and numbers from pieces of white file cards. He then placed them in a circle on the dining room table and sent Tim to retrieve a clean glass from the china closet. Jon was using it in place of the planchette, a plastic piece that moves around between the letters and numbers on a Ouija board.

As I cheerfully wiped spaghetti sauce off the table and put away all the cooking utensils, little did I know the events that were in store for all of us. If I had known, a Ouija board would not have been any place near my home.

As the guys eagerly found a place around the table, Tim came into the kitchen. He asked me if I was going to join in the fun. Not yet knowing what was being planned in the next room, I just shook my head no. I replied "No way! The stories you guys tell each other is more than enough for me. I'm going to sit down and rest my feet and maybe read a nice crime novel."

"Oh. This is different. We are going to try and contact a spirit!" he grinned.

"A spirit? What are you guys doing in there? Having a séance?" I looked at him.

"No, not a séance. Jon is going to show us how to use an Ouija board." he replied.

I dropped my dishtowel on the side of the sink and walked into the dining room. All the men were crowded around Jon as he tried to explain how the board was supposed to work and what he wanted each of them to do. Spying me, he asked, "Karen, will you come over and help me for a moment?"

"Do what, Jon?" I asked. My tone of voice must have indicated my displeasure at what they were doing.
"Ah, come on, Karen. Nothing is going to happen. I have done this before and sometimes the glass will spell out a name or give a date. However, it is not that scary. Take my word that nothing bad will happen." Jon beamed a brotherly look at me.

"Look, Jon. I have heard all kinds of stories about Ouija boards and none of them any good. Why did you think I would want to do something like this?" I said in an exasperated voice.

"Of course there are stories, Karen. There are always stories about something people do not understand or are afraid of knowing. However, I can handle this board and they can be a lot of fun. Besides, if I thought it was dangerous, do you really think I would be doing this myself?" He looked at me pleadingly, asking me to go along with the fun.

I sighed as Bill exclaimed, "Man, I just want to see a ghost! Maybe we can get one of our "house guests" to show themselves. I just want to talk to one! Maybe it will give us the next lottery numbers!"

Looking at him, I realized he was intent on doing this. I could tell he wanted to see something, anything, just so long as it was astral, spooky, creepy or spectral. I grinned to myself at the thought of Bill talking to a ghost, especially since my handsome husband, who normally checked health certificates and restaurant floors, would not exactly inspire ghostly confidences from the "other side"

"Ok. Ok. I will stay and watch, but don't expect me to touch that thing!"

"I don't want you to touch it," he explained. "I need you to do something else instead."

I looked at him in astonishment. Had I not said I was not going to get involved? He saw the look on my face and laughed. "No. I do not want you to do anything with the board. I would like for you to keep notes."

"Keep notes? Whatever on earth for?" I inquired hotly.

"I have some experience using a board and it can often provide some interesting thoughts. I would just like to have a record in case anything happens."

"Happens? Jon! You just told me nothing was going to happen!" I gasped.

He laughed. "Which is true, Karen. Do not get upset. However, I do like to keep notes for my research. I have to turn a paper in on occult beliefs and this might be a good example to show that nothing does happen. I believe the board only "works" because someone is unconsciously making it move."

I reluctantly considered what Jon said. After all, he was the only one among us who had any kind of college education and currently working on a Sociology degree. I knew he was interested in things that were considered folklore and magic, even the "occult," but I did not realize he was writing a paper on it. However, I supposed that a person, who wanted to be a "sociologist" and study people, was apt to be a bit weird.

"Ok, I will do that. But nothing else!"

"Great!" He grinned disarmingly at me. "I just want you to write down any question that is asked and all responses given, if any. I promise. That is all you have to do."

With vague misgivings, I agreed to do as he asked. After all, what real harm could possibly come to it? I would trust him that much for now.

There were six of us around the table that night with the five men actually participating in using the Ouija board. Even though I had been handpicked as the official note taker, I did not want to be near the thing. Thinking back, I honestly had no idea how the others really felt about it. Bill and Earl had readily agreed to "play the game", but Jamie, our normally ebullient roughhousing friend, appeared unusually subdued and quiet.

Jamie, running his fingers through his dark, wavy hair, claimed he had chills racing up and down his spine. "My hair is already standing on end!" he laughed nervously.

"I agree!" replied Earl. "This whole thing feels sort of weird to me, but it looks like fun!"

Tim just watched. The smallest of the group, he normally just fell into whatever the rest was doing. However, I remember him pulling at his right index finger, something he only did when he was nervous or upset. At least, I hoped it was just nerves. I think most of us were afraid that night, but no one wanted to be guilty of "chickening out". Of course, it is easy to see that now, whenever I think back over what happened. My dad always said hindsight was 20/20.

Nevertheless, on that night, Bill laughed at them. "You guys are really a bunch of sissies. This is tame stuff compared to what we used to do. Remember how we used to play chicken out on old Rt. 40. Why! As young as we were, we never thought about anything awful happening to us. Good grief! This is a child's game. They sell this stuff in all the kiddie stores!"

That seemed to cut the tension a bit and made the air a bit easier to breathe. They looked at each other and grinned. It was Bill's next comment that set the stage for the rest of the evening.

"Come on, guys. If it is safe for kids, it is safe enough for us. We are supposed to be adults, are we not? Besides, I want to talk to the Devil and see what old Beelzebub has to say for himself. If all else fails and we can't get anyone to talk to us, I want to see a demon!"

Jon's face tightened when he heard what Bill said. "Bill. Game or not, Ouija boards have been used since at least 1890 to speak with the spirits of the Underworld. Before that, they used a pencil planchette, a complicated three-sided device. Two sides were equipped with two casters or wheels that rolled across a piece of paper. A pencil forming the third side, would write any messages that might be given. Only one person had to touch it. This person was called a "medium," someone who formed a bridge between our world and the spirit world."

"Later, the wheels were exchanged for two felt-covered pegs which made the planchette glide easier across a board. Why, even before that, there is evidence that pendulums and oracles were used as a means to divine information from the other "plane". Do you not remember the girls in school who used to tie a string to a pin? They would hold it and ask it a question to be answered by a Yes or No. If it moved in a lateral motion, that is, side to side, it was a No. However, if it spun in a circle, it was a Yes. That was exactly the same principle. There is history dating that type of spiritual device going back for thousands of years."

Earl interrupted Jon's history lesson to state, "Bill, if we are really going to mess with this thing, I do not want to talk to any demons. I do not know if there are any spirits out there or not, but I will be damned if I want to tangle with an evil spirit. Maybe we should not do this at all!" He slid his chair away from the table, almost glaring at the rest of them.

Bill chuckled. "Sure, sure. Don't worry! I will behave. Let's just get on with it."

Earl stared at his best friend's face as if looking to see what was going on inside Bill's mind. Slowly nodding his head, he moved closer to the table, but I believe he knew Bill was going to push the issue.

Jon decided it was time to take control of the situation by asking each of the men to place one finger on the edge of the overturned glass. He glanced around and seemed satisfied that everyone was still ready to talk to the board.

Except me. I did not like what I saw on Earl's face, a look now closed up like a dark shutter. I liked Bill's attitude even less, especially since I did not believe him when he said he would behave. That just was not Bill's nature when he was intent on doing something. I knew my husband had something on his mind that was not going to bode well for any of us and I was at a loss as to how to prevent him from doing something stupid. Even if we had believed it was a mere child's game, no one realized we were treading onto dangerous ground.

"First, we will say a prayer before we start. Everyone must agree to want only good spirits. "Jon stated soberly, while looking at Bill. Bill just looked away, a non-committal expression on his face. As Jon continued to pray, everyone bowed their heads while he asked for information and safekeeping of each other while using the board.

That thought unsettled me even more since this was supposedly a game. Why would we need safekeeping? Peering up under my fingers, I looked at the rest of the group. All were moving their lips, saying Amen to Jon's request. That is, except for Bill. He was sitting there grinning to himself as if he had just thought of a good joke.

As Jon finished, we all looked up expectantly, waiting for him to tell us what to do next. In spite of a growing sense of misgiving, I, too, felt a certain excitement in trying to talk to spirits regardless of my previous apprehension. Looking around, I could see the same sense of excitement on everyone's face. I was sitting behind Jon and just to Bill's left, with my pen poised waiting. Nevertheless, I had no clue what we were waiting for.

"Well?" tittered Jamie, who had said nothing until this moment. "What do we do now?"

Jon did not answer. Instead, he asked, "Is there a good spirit who would like to talk to us?"

Nothing happened.

Jon once again asked, "Are there any spirits in this room?" I nervously glanced around my dining room, ill at ease and hoping no one and nothing would answer him.

Earl started to say something, but Jon shushed him. Suddenly, the water glass began to move. Slowly, it inched its way across the table, sliding first to one letter, then to another. Everyone looked at each other. The glass had spelled out a "Yes".

Jamie murmured, drawing out each word separated by a pause. "I...don't...know...if...I...am...going...to...like...this."

Bill laughed raucously. "You sissy!"

Jon glared at Bill, who immediately looked away. He knew what Jon was thinking, and he did not appreciate being called down for it in his own house. Why he did not say anything at that moment could only have been because of what he was looking to see.

Jon again asked a question. "Are you governed by good influences?"

The glass once again spelled out the word "Yes".

Jon continued. "Can you make predictions?"

"Yes."

Bill removed his finger from the glass and everyone followed his example. "I want to ask a question about someone I used to talk to a long time ago. A young spirit of a boy that died of typhoid in the late eighteenth century."

Now, that was a surprise. Bill had never mentioned using a Ouija board before, not to me or apparently to anyone else. With a raised eyebrow, Jon nodded for him to do so. It was not as if we had a clue where we went from here. I had to wonder, though. How could Bill know it was a young boy, let alone how he died, if the board only gave short answers and a date now and then?

Bill began the time, indicating to the other three to place their fingers on the glass. "Can you tell me why Bartholowe Rogers quit talking to me?"

As I heard that question, I wondered briefly if "time" as we knew it did exist on the other side, since Bill had never indicated when he had last talked to this young spirit. However, I did not have long enough to continue that frame of thought as the board began a longer set of movements across the board. I wrote down each letter as it pointed to it.

"Because he was called by the overloard."

"Who is the overloard?" intoned Bill.

"The good one."

"Can we talk to the good overloard?" Bill asked.

"Yes."

Jon removed his finger from the glass. "Well," he said. "It looks like we might have a talkative one! As you notice, the words are not being spelled correctly. This is because spirits are usually not good spellers. This could be because of a general lack of education or just because it is so hard to actually communicate between the planes. One thing, though. Over l-o-a-r-d (he spelled out the word) is an old English version of the word overlord, so perhaps this particular spirit has been around a long time."

Placing his finger on the glass, he asked Bill to continue asking questions.

"Who are you?" Bill asked.

"I am Talkejskjslj."

"What is your name?" Again, the board only produced a line of gibberish.

"Are you confused?"

"Yes."

Jon grinned. He had told us earlier that so-called spirits tended to lose track of what they were saying and were easily confused.

Jon asked the next question. "We would like to ask some questions and get truthful answers. Will you tell us only the truth?"

"Ye. Ye. Ye."

The glass seemed to be stuck like a needle in the groove of a record. Jon stopped. "It's possible it is trying to lie and is being stopped from giving an untruthful answer." he stated. "So, when they can't lie, they just turn the truth around so it means the same thing."

"You mean it wants to lie?" I asked, appalled that this thing really could be dishonest. If it could, what kept it from being malicious or, heaven forbid, evil? Was it possible it could cause harm to us? I was beginning to wish we had never started this. I was extremely upset that I might have been able to stop this before the guys were so involved, but now it was too late.

Jamie motioned, he wanted to ask a question. With everyone touching the glass, he queried, "Are you from the Devil?"

"Yes."

Earl stepped in with a question of his own. "Is there any reason why I should explore Satanism or speak with the Devil?"

"No."

Earl breathed a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, Bill was asking his question. "Does the Devil have anything to offer me?"

"Yes!"

Bill laughed. "What does the Devil have to offer me?"

"A baby."

Bill raised his eyebrows at that response. We had not been able to have any children of our own, a sore point with me. In fact, we had spent a lot of money over the past 10 years going to fertility clinics and trying all kinds of procedures. So far, nothing had worked.

"What about a baby?"

"A girl about 25 named Sherry."

Bill let go of the glass as if his hand had been burnt. His secretary's name was Sherry and my middle name was Cheri. Then we all noticed Tim's face. It had gone pale. "My ... My girlfriend's name is Sherry, too."

Jon questioned the spirit. "What about a girl named Sherry?"

"Have a baby."

"Whose baby?"

"Sataans"

My pencil fell to the floor as I gasped. "Heavens, Bill!"

Bill continued as though he had not heard. "Can this be stopped?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Blesshe her by the loards word."

Tim's face was pale with fear and quit playing. Earl got up and walked away from the table. Jon, now looking a bit worried about how this was going, tried to change the subject. By this time, only Bill, Jamie and Jon still touched the glass.

"Will I realize my wish?"

I knew Jon was trying to get a position with the college he attended. However, asking that question without an explanation gave me a start. Could these things read your mind?

"It don't matter if you don't stop no one in this home will live."

At that, everyone let go of the glass so fast, it fell over on its side. I looked at Jon and he had a studied look on his face. I knew he was getting concerned with the direction this "game" (as he had first called it) was going. In fact, it was becoming really nasty.

Jamie had had enough. He abruptly stood up and joined Earl in the living room, where I could hear them talking, almost in whispers.

Only Bill and Jon still continued to play.

"Stop what?" asked Bill.

"It don't matter if you don't stop no one in this home will live."

Jon seemed as frightened by this as the rest of us certainly were. Deciding enough was enough, he placed his finger upon the glass and started to say a prayer. Instead, the glass slipped away from him, rapidly moving from letter to letter. In horror, I watched as it spelled out "diediedieyouallwilldiediedie."

Jon called to the guys who had left the room. "Guys, we have to end this now!" he enjoined as he grabbed Bill's hand and motioned for me to hold his other hand. "Everyone, hold each other's hand while I stop this. Reaching out, holding our hands toward the ceiling, Jon said hurriedly, "Everyone repeat after me. Say exactly what I tell you to say!"

"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, we command you to be gone!" He made us say the prayer repeatedly, almost like a mantra.

"What about Sherry?" burst out Jamie.

"Just to be on the safe side, we better do exactly what that spirit said." Still holding hands, we blessed the absent girl with the Lord's Prayer, stumbling over the words as Jon voiced them.

Moreover, while Jon was reciting the prayer, the planchette started moving on its own, with no one touching it. As we repeated the prayer repeatedly until we were almost hoarse, the planchette spun around the top of my wooden table. Banging into the crack formed by the table extension leaves, it raced to the bottom and came up the other side, literally hopping the raised edge, spelling out the works, "allofyouwilldiediediedie".

Later, while sitting in the living room, we talked about what had happened. No one really knew what to think, yet we could not seem to stop asking questions.

"Is there a chance", asked Jamie, "that any of what that thing said will come true?"

Jon sat still, thoughtfully considering his question. "Remember what I said. Spirits are notorious for lying. I'm not saying it couldn't happen, but certainly it is not probable." Looking at all of us, he stated emphatically, "I do not want any of you worrying about what happened tonight. I think we just got a nasty one and they love to provoke people. Even so, I do not believe any of you should mess with the board again. They can be dangerous, especially if you try to contact a spirit by yourself! There are many who believe that using the board in an unstructured setting is allowing you to be open to possession. Moreover, you would have no way of controlling what happens."

Everyone nodded vigorously at this. At that moment, I do not think you could have dragged any of us to a Ouija board with a herd of horses. It had been a terrible experience and I was glad I had not been actively involved. Just being in the same room scared me to death. Even Bill seemed very frightened by what had happened. I am sure he was conscious of his wish to see a real demon, but the reality of having one was much more than he anticipated. I hoped and prayed that by tomorrow it would just seem like a bad dream.

It was a mutual agreement to break up the party at that point. No one really wanted to stay any longer and the chance of continued discussion seemed to deflate everyone. Jamie pulled on his jacket and headed toward the door. "Hey guys. It has been real. I'll see you tomorrow at work." With that, he opened the door and headed out to his pickup.

Jon wearily nodded. The experience had taken its toll from him and he wanted to go to bed. He felt extremely sorry he had even mentioned playing with the Ouija board and could not understand how it had gotten out of hand so fast. It had never happened to him before and that caused him worry. Since Tim had arrived with Jon earlier in the evening, they both left together, hugging me and slapping Bill on the back in a gesture of shared comradely no one really felt.

Earl had ridden in with Bill, having left his truck at work since he had planned to spend the night. Bill handed Earl the keys to his truck to go home in, saying he could leave it at Bill's office in the morning, where he would pick it up. I agreed, knowing I could drop Bill off at his office before going to the store. Earl took the keys and stood at the door.

"Both of you get some sleep. I am sure it is all over. Even if that thing was real, it can't touch us." Tipping his cap, he was gone.

Bill was still subdued. He went into the kitchen and drank a glass of milk standing in front of the refrigerator. "I'm going to bed, Karen." I looked after him, a bit worried. True, he had been partly responsible for what had happened, but I was not used to him being so meek. Sighing, I figured he would have to deal with it on his own. I was too tired to try to make sense of anything tonight. Drinking a glass of milk myself, I rinsed out the glass and went to bed.

*****

The next morning came bright with sunshine. Bill had awakened before me and I found him sitting in his favorite chair, already dressed and staring into the kitchen. I walked past him, found myself a breakfast bar and dragged myself back upstairs to get dressed. When I came back down, he had not moved. I fixed us both a cup of coffee and as I carried his to him, he seemed more tired and withdrawn than he did the night before.

"Are you ok?" I asked him, worriedly.

"Yeah, sure. I guess I did not go to sleep right off. When I finally did, I kept seeing these horrible pictures in my mind."

"Do you want to call the doctor? You do look terrible. You can take a day and just spend it here with me. We don't have to go any place today."

"No. No. I can handle it. Besides, I want to pick up my truck and check on everyone. I just want to make sure everyone is ok after last night. Those dreams, if that is what they were, unnerved me pretty bad."

"What kind of dreams, Bill?" The look in his eyes was unnerving me!

"Oh. Never mind, hon. I'm sure it is purely because of my imagination, but I will still feel better when I see every things ok." He looked at me dejectedly. "I really acted like an ass last night, didn't I?"

I grinned at him. "Yeah, you sure were."

He got up and went outside. I gathered up my coupons and grocery list and went outside, too. He had already started the car and as I got in, he headed toward his office.

When we reached the parking lot, it was deserted.

"Now, I wonder where Earl is! He exclaimed. "I really thought he would have been here by now. Lord knows, he doesn't sleep as much as I do."

I laughed. Bill decided to wait for Earl and got out of the car. I slid over to take the wheel as he shut the door. He leaned into the car window and kissed me goodbye. "I'll call you if I need you." I yelled goodbye after him as he walked inside.

I turned the car around and headed towards the street. As I prepared to pull out into traffic, my passenger side door was jerked open. Startled, I saw Bill standing there and he looked to be in pain.

"What's wrong, Bill!" I anxiously looked him over, but could not see anything wrong. He handed me a piece of paper. The answering machine was blinking when he went in, and normally, he would have left it wait until Monday, figuring it was work related. However, after last night, he checked it, just in case. It was a message from Jon. It just stated that Bill was to meet him over at Monroe Hospital that Tim and Jamie were in an accident. Bill had written down the name of the hospital and running outside to catch me.

When we got to the hospital, Jon met us at the door. I knew as soon as I saw him that the news was bad. Apparently, Jamie had picked up Tim at his house and headed out for a day at the beach. On the way, they had noticed a girl broke down on the side of the road with a flat tire. They decided to stop and give her a hand fixing it. While Jamie was getting the spare out of the trunk, Tim had jacked the car up and taken off the flat. The girl had walked up the road a ways, to see if she could find what had punctured her tire. A tractor-trailer, loaded with steel beams, had plowed into the back of the truck. Jamie was killed instantly and Tim had severe head injuries. He was not expected to live. The girl was unharmed.

Jon said he had tried to call us this morning to let us know. Bill and I looked at each other. We had been home all morning and the telephone never rang.

Bill walked away from us. Suddenly, he whirled around, crying, "It's entirely my fault! It's all my fault!". I ran over to him and Jon followed behind me. "No, it is not your fault, Bill. It was just an accident. This did not have anything to do with what happened last night!" Jon admonished him.

"But, you don't understand, you just do not understand! I had a dream last night. A bad dream. I thought it was just my imagination, but it was not. I dreamed Jamie and Tim were killed!" Bill sank to the ground, sobbing.

I did not know what to think. I could not believe Jamie and Tim were gone nor could I believe my husband had anything to do with their deaths. It was an accident, just as Jon had said. Even so, it worried me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it was asking "what if".

The next thing we knew, Earl drove wildly into the parking lot where we stood and where Bill was sitting on the pavement. He was still driving Bill's truck and he looked as if he had never been to bed. He hurriedly parked the truck, jumping out of the vehicle as it continued to move forward, slamming the door behind him. I watched it shutter to a standstill. He strode purposely toward us and as he came within arm's touch, I reached for him. Shrugging away from me, he stooped down in front of Bill.

"Why? Why?" he shouted. Bill just looked up him dumbly, not really seeing him, but seemingly to be gazing at something beyond. Earl stood up in disgust and whirled away, heading into the hospital. I must have still been in shock, for I could not say a word. I made Bill and Jon get into the car and we drove to the emergency room. Finding an empty spot, I parked the car and started to get out.

At that moment, Earl came out of the hospital and tears were running down his face. "Tim just died." Jon looked at Bill sitting on the passenger seat and averted his eyes. Noticing this, I said simply, "You better do some more praying." I helped Bill off the ground, making him get into the car. "I'm going home. Let me know when the funeral is." I drove out of the parking lot.

Once we reached the house, I helped Bill inside and made him lie down on the sofa. I sat in the chair and tried not to think about what had happened. I must have dozed off for a bit, when I was awakened by a chill in my heart. Struggling to sit up and feeling as if I had been drugged, I could see Bill was no longer in the room. I ran throughout the house, calling his name but I could not find him. I looked out the window into the yard, seeing my car still parked in the driveway. I must have searched for an hour, but I was finally convinced Bill had left in some manner. Perhaps he decided he needed to take a walk. I grabbed a sweater and ran out to the car.

I drove for hours up and down the streets. No one had seen him and I was almost frantic with worry. I tried to call Jon in case Bill had gone to talk with him, but no one answered at his home. Thinking he might still be at the hospital helping to make sure Jamie and Tim were taken care of. I drove over there. I knew it would be like Bill to meet with their families and offer to help in making arrangements. Something I should have been helping with, too. We were close to everyone in the group and they were family. I just could not make myself do it yet.

When I entered the hospital, I did not see anyone I recognized. "That's strange." I thought to myself. I had imagined it would be full of grieving relatives. I stopped at the nurses' desk and asked about Jamie and Tim. The nurse on duty informed me they had already been sent to the morgue for autopsy. Though I highly disagreed with having to go there, I walked down. The door was closed, but I could see through the window. Inside were several tables, each covered with a white sheet. I knew two of them had to be our best friends. Dead. No way could I have entered and with my heart aching, I turned back.

Only now, I was not sure what to do. I did not know where anyone had gone and I was concerned over Bill. He had never gone away from me before without telling me. I realized it had everything to do with last night. I drove by Earl's house and it seemed closed in on itself. Knocking a few times on the door, I soon gave up. I checked at Jon's also, but it was the same thing. I was beginning to feel scared. Really scared, because none of it made sense. I went home.

Bill had not returned and I checked the phone messages. Only one was on the machine and it turned my blood to ice. Once I had left the hospital, I had spent almost an hour trying to find Jon and Earl before I came home. The message on the machine was from Earl and he was at the police station. He said it was an emergency and Bill and I needed to come down as fast as we could get there.

Having no more ideas on where to look for Bill, I practically flew to the station, wondering what else could have gone wrong. What else could possibly be worse than the day had been so far? When I got there, I found Earl sitting on a bench just inside the door. He was holding his head in his hands and when I called his name, he looked up. Tears welled up in his eyes and he reached for me. I sat down next to him, holding my arms around his shoulders. His crying finally subsided from wrenching sobs to great gasps of air as he tried to speak.

"I found him. I went to see him. I wanted to apologize for how I acted at the hospital and I found him. Dead!"

"Found who? Found who, Earl?" I think I already knew by that time, but I refused to acknowledge the thought.

"Jon. I found Jon. I went to his house and he did not answer the door. I thought that maybe he went to the college, so I drove over there. When I could not find him, I remembered him telling us about a cabin he used up on Tarmon Highway. He was in the garage. He had affixed a hose to the exhaust pipe and... And...." Earl could not go on.

Now my fear was a palpable as the ice water running in my veins. I knew it was not over. I knew that demon had spoken the truth. Didn't Jon himself say it was almost impossible for them to lie? Everyone in the home would die. That is what the board had spelled out. Not once, but twice. Everyone in the home will die! So, what was the truth? Would any of us live? Where was Bill?

Lost in those horrible thoughts, I had forgotten about Earl. I had walked away from him, going outside to think. A loud explosion rent the air and people were screaming inside the station. I dashed inside the door and was suddenly brought up short by the scene in front of me. Earl had apparently tried to take one of the officer's guns. During the struggle, the gun went off and Earl was shot in the head. It only took one look, one short glance to know he was dead, too. Of the six people in the house last night, four were dead. Only two of us were left. I knew I had to find Bill soon. Soon or it would be over. It would be too late.

I went back to my home, dropping onto the sofa as if I had suddenly turned into a sack of potatoes. I was at a loss as to where Bill could be. He did not have any close relatives in the area and all my family lived up north in Maine. Most of our friends were dead and I knew we did not have any other close ones that he would even consider going to see. As I sat there, letting the quiet wash over me, I realized I could hear words. Words being spoken softer than a whisper and coming from somewhere inside the house.

Cautiously, I stood up and tried to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. Walking from room to room, I would stop and listen. I was not sure it was Bill but could not figure who else it might be. After walking through all the rooms on the second floor, I realized the voice must have been coming from the basement. It had to be Bill! I ran back downstairs and opened the basement door. The voice was louder and I knew it was Bill. Only his voice sounded strange, almost as if his voice had suddenly developed a low bass resonance instead of his normal tenor I was familiar with hearing.

As I stepped down the stairs, one at a time, the voice became louder. Bill had planned to finish the basement into a rec room for him and the guys, but had not found the time to finish it. Stacks of drywall and ply board were piled up against the walls and his tools were scattered over the floor. At the back of the basement, he had built himself a workshop early in our marriage. His fishing and camping equipment were stored on shelves lining three sides of the room. That was where I found him. Only the person I saw appeared to be Bill, but it was not him.

He had constructed another Ouija board on top of his workbench and was steadily watching the planchette as it raced across the board. Even from where I stood, I could see no one was touching it. It moved by itself, spelling out words I could not read. Bill was laughing, a loud booming sound not like anything I had ever heard coming from his mouth.

As I came on down, he must have heard the steps creak and turned toward me. He grinned and I knew. I knew that thing in front of me was no longer Bill. Not my Bill, not the one I had loved for the past ten years. Yet, oddly no longer afraid, I continued to walk to him. When I was standing along side, I glanced at the board and could see the words that were being spelled out in such a frantic pace. The words were simple. "Save me! Get me out! Get me out!" I looked up at the new Bill. He continued to grin at me, a washed out version of my husband's lopsided smile. I smiled back.

*****

I decided to sell the house and move somewhere different. Somewhere where no one would know me or connect me to those awful incidents. I sold everything we owned and acquired a nice nest egg to hold me for a couple of years. I have a new life now and a new life in me. Yes, I am pregnant by Bill. That Bill who was not really my Bill. He did not stay with me very long, though. I suppose he only stayed long enough to get used to moving around as a real human being after being cooped up in that astrophysical plane for 300 years. He left soon after I moved here and I told everyone he was my brother. However, I do not care. All I can think about is having this baby and raising a family. Almost any sacrifice was worth the happiness I feel now.

"What happened to Bill?" you ask. "The real Bill?"

"Oh, we still talk. I bought a nice new Ouija board and learned how to contact Bill. It took me several tries, but we finally connected. He tells me he has figured out how to get back. He just has to wait until the right person comes along and that is just a matter of time. He wants some arrogant young jock that wants to play with the spirits. And, oh man! Bill really does want to play." I grinned.
*****