JULY 1ST 1985
It was a toy, a game, a bit
of fun, I thought. When
you are 16 you are naive and still (even
though you donít want to believe it) innocent. And so
I bought it.
It was straight enough, it was even endorsed
by a popular paranormal investigator who I had often read
about. A knowledge board, Ouija, something that everyone
has heard of but a taboo subject, so when I saw it in
the shop I had to buy it. A mistake I would later regret.
Ouija boards are frowned upon in public and
Christianity which makes them more popular with the young
who love to rebel and experiment with powers that the
mature dare not touch. At one point in life you feel that
communicating with the dead is the Ďin thing,í and then
you grow up. Unfortunately it takes some of us longer
to grow up than others, like me.
I unwrapped the laminated board from it's
envelope packaging in the secrecy of my bedroom away from
the adult world who wouldnít understand such devices.
It was mine, a buy of the century, an official knowledge
board for getting in touch with the dead, I had the power
of God at my fingertips or so I thought. I crept down
stairs and swiftly removed a sherry glass from the drinks
cabinet, it was time to play with my new purchase.
There are somethingís in life that you look
back at and think did that really happen, this is one
of those cases, I only wish that I could look back and
honestly believe it didnít happen, but it did. The glass
was at my fingertips.
Now I donít know whether any of you have
tried the Ouija
board before (I hope you havenít), but it works, what
makes it work is not essential in this story, some people
claim itís the subconscious mind, others claim that it
is someone pushing the glass, I know different.
Life had changed somewhat
when I rediscovered it and the memories had faded. Iíd
been married twice, divorced twice and discovered alcohol
as well as having a string of varied jobs. I was searching
through some old files when I found the envelope and the
Ďgameí it contained, the game that made Jumanji look like
Junior Monopoly, I removed it and placed it on the desk
where it would remain for the next two days.
JULY 1ST 1997
HORSESHOE INN, YORK, 1 pm
It had been a hot lunchtime
and a pint had seemed the solution, not that I ever needed
an excuse to enter a public house. I met up with a couple
of friends, Leeds born waiter Andy who now worked in a
family run Italian restaurant in York and Nicole a former
student of Scottish descent with a life now that revolved
around working as a chamber maid, a couple very much in
love, something my mind seemed devoid of these days
one night stands were preferred.
Andy and Nicole were very close friends who I would often
confide in and their drinking habits almost reflected
my own which meant the afternoon chat was open and relaxed,