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All of this feels so pointless.
What is the point of seeing ghosts if you can’t even talk to them?
Drumming my fingers on the tabletop, I mull over the thought. Then, I get hit with a crackpot idea that might be too out there even for me. Powering up my laptop, I look up how to talk to ghosts.
Over the years, I’ve tried physically speaking to them, pointing, shouting, writing notes – nothing has worked.
But there’s no way I’m the first person interested in contacting the dead.
Maybe I’m one of the first to see the ghost’s facial expressions when trying, but thousands of people must be obsessed with speaking to the other side. I’ve never put much stock in paranormal activity besides the occasional scary movie or book plot.
I wasn’t even sure there was an afterlife until I walked among its citizens, albeit unwillingly.
My search returns a multitude of websites, all touting the best way to communicate with the dead. There’s even a phone app that states it can unscramble ghost speak. I read a few blogs, each claiming to hold the best techniques. I skim through them.
The method I keep seeing is Ouija boards. I’ve heard of them, though I’ve never used one. Refining my search, I find that while you can buy the board, they’re also easy and free to make.
Bingo!
Free is looking very good these days.
I jot some notes on how to put it together as well as some best practice tips. The website recommends using a group of people.
Fat chance.
The website also notes that the spirit world is most active at night. Well, that’s sensible enough. If anything, I think it would feel weird to communicate with ghosts during the day.
Daytime is exposing, unlike the protective cover of darkness.
When I finally feel like I have a plan moving forward, I buckle down and get some classwork done. I get intomy writing groove, and after what feels like a couple of minutes later, my phone alarm starts buzzing, letting me know it’s time to walk to campus. I would one hundred percent have kept working and forgotten about attending class if I didn’t set alarms.
Hyperfocus is fun like that.
Sohanna is now masterfully fielding a long line of people, so I give her a quick wave before heading towards the boardwalk. The sun lights up the sky, though most shops are closed except for restaurants.
As I draw nearer to the boardwalk that trails above the beach, I feel a tingling in my left wrist again. It’s not quite a shock like yesterday, but more like a prickling static charge.
Yet again, I lift my hand to examine my wrist but can’t see anything on it—no lights, not even a mosquito bite. But the closer I get to the water, the more I can feel it, a faint but incessant tugging. It’s just enough that I can’t ignore it.
Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I increase my pace to the school. I keep getting intrusive thoughts about getting dragged into the water, schoolbag in tow.
Not ideal.
Despite my hurried pace and dedication to ignoring the latest developments in my paranormal problems, the pulling doesn’t stop.
If this Ouija board thing could work, that would be great.
I’ll try to get some answers tonight and hopefully not invite a hoard of demons into my apartment.
Honestly, my quota for paranormal life-crashers is full.
No vacancies.
Arriving on campus, I find Conner, true to his word, waiting by our Roman history class door with a coffee and a massive chocolate chip muffin. He holds them out to me as I approach him.
“As promised,” he grins as he hands them to me. His hair is tousled like he just climbed out of bed. Lucky bastard. “One cup of coffee, one muffin – the one with the most chocolate, and, of course, one hot stud muffin for you to do with as you please.”
As I take my proffered goods, he places an arm around my shoulders and kisses my head.
