A tale of two Ouija boards

Submitted by Jill Robi

I’ve always wanted a Ouija board.

No clue why I’ve never bought one, but it just, well, never happened. Still, I knew I had to find a way to communicate with the energy in my home.

My grandmother passed away in 2010. Before that, death, cemeteries, spirits, all of it used to scare the hell out of me. But when she left this plane of existence, I felt…I felt and have continued to feel from time to time, her comforting presence. Maybe it sounds corny, but I felt like she was my personal guardian angel.

One day, perhaps it was boredom, or the stars were aligned, but I asked my sister to assist me in an experiment: I wanted to attempt to make contact to see if there was a message.

Creating a board

I still didn’t have that Ouija board, but what is a Ouija board but the alphabet, numbers, yes or no, and a guide for each letter or number or answer? So, the innovator that I am, I took a piece of regular printing paper and wrote it out in blue ink, and we used a quarter as our guide. I lit a couple of candles, turned off the lights, and asked questions. After some experimentation, it was determined that I should ask the questions, and my sister would be the guide. And that ended up being effective.

I remember, watching her finger move, slowly, dragging the quarter across the paper. A skeptical part of me wondered if she was doing it herself. She swore she wasn’t. It would have been pretty messed up, impersonating our deceased grandmother. Messed up and not funny. But by the end of it, I was convinced, as the message was…

That I should help my sister with school.

And there’s no way in hell my sister would ever make such a message herself. For those reading this who obviously don’t know her, she could give a crap about school. But yeah, it was so…specific. And real.

And all with a piece of paper and a quarter.

Even though that wasn’t the answer I was looking for, it was affirmative in that I knew I had been right, that my grandmother had been there, watching over me.

 A new board

A year later, in a different city and state, I’d made new friends, who were also into the supernatural and the spirit world. And this particular friend owned his own legit Ouija board, made out of a glossy wood.

“Are you sure?” he asked me. I was puzzled, but asserted that yes, I definitely wanted to contact the spirit world. I figured, this experience had to be better than the last, with a legit board and a somewhat professional leader.

“We just have to be careful sometimes about what doors we open,” he warned. “And I’ll need something personal of yours that is sterling.” I handed him my silver bracelet and watched as he tossed it in a bowl of water. He took out this fancy dagger with gold filigree on the handle, and cut a neat slice into his palm. I was shaken. He used the blood as an offering for the board, and began his incantation. Then, the questions began.

Thinking back on that night, I have to be honest and say I didn’t feel my grandmother’s presence; I just worked off the general knowledge that she was usually there with me. Still, the first question I asked was, “Are you my grandmother?” To which the response was, “Yes.”

After a series of questions, I asked what she wanted? Slowly, the letters began to spell out —

G – O – T- O – H- E- L- —

“Okay, stop! This isn’t her. I’m closing the circle,” my friend announced. He repeated the closing incantation three times and threw some salt around. Then he gave me a crucifix and told me to take it home with me just in case we hadn’t closed the circle in time. “Having a demon spirit like that follow you, and impersonate your grandmother…Not good.”  It gives me chills to this day to think about.

That night was terrifying; I was afraid to go to sleep. I clutched the small crucifix, about two and a half inches long, heavy and made of metal, to my chest. I turned out the lights, half convinced I was being silly, and yet, I couldn’t stop staring at the shadows, wondering…

I still don’t own a Ouija board. Part of me wants to, but there’s another part that’s afraid of what I may find.

Read more Ouija stories here.