Strange
Magic
The
Board of Truth
The Ouija board - fascinating, frightening, fact or fabrication? Don't take my word for it, but it
really works. I don't know how or why, but it works. You can actually feel the
force of the glass the way it glides across a polished table almost lifting to
reach its destination of letters, numbers or towards a simple 'yes' or 'no'. I swear it can
even read your mind, as I asked it if there was a God and a Devil and it went
straight to 'yes'!
Going through an
experimental stage with Spiritualism, I joined a couple of friends who were
asking some spirit many questions and watched in awe as the glass seemed to
have had a mind of its own. It did not feel spooky; I just felt somehow drawn
in. I did not question if the Ouija would be meddling with the unknown or if it
could be dangerous in some way. Most of the time it was completely nonsensical
anyway and whatever the glass spelt out, did not mean much to anyone. It became addictive somehow, because in an odd kind of way it was
entertaining and every now and again, some of it did make sense. Like the time
I met Pete. I often went out with a crowd of like minded people and never
thought anything more than being friends until one day, it was obvious that one
of the male friends meant a little more to me. It might have been because I was
feeling vulnerable, but I knew he felt the same. We decided to keep the
relationship quiet, otherwise it might of complicated things between our shared
friends - at least for the time being. It wasn't long before I felt something
very strong for him.
After a few weeks, I joined the
same couple of friends on the Ouija board and almost immediately started
answering to me. It spelt out the name of Pete and the words about our
relationship and that it had turned to love. I tried to deny it and felt so
deeply embarrassed because I did not want anyone to know about it as I was
going through a complicated divorce. My two friends were suspicious - of course
they were right to be! I was now a little more convinced that the board of
truth was not a fluke and that at times, maybe possible to make contact with
those who passed over.
As for Pete, our
relationship fizzled out after a few months because our personal circumstances
were problematic. We felt, due to our circumstances it was more important not
to stay an item - but the board was right, I thought a lot of him at the time
and I do believe he felt the same.
It was of great
importance that the glass was 'clean' and took great care into saying a prayer
of protection before and after any seance took place. Most of the time it was
during the day as if it were safer than in the dark of the night.
None of my loved ones
that had passed over made any contact with me and believe me, I would have
loved to have heard some words that only I would be able to relate to, just to
have more proof of the afterlife, but when my ex brother in law mysteriously
died in a freak accident, he quite literally bled to death after falling
through a glass door in a foreign country. A semi haemophiliac, nobody knew the real truth
what happened and it was frustrating enough trying to translate any information
that was given to us. A huge mystery and nobody ever got the bottom of it. We
did not know if he was murdered or if it was an accident, but after a session
on the board a few weeks after his death with just his widow and myself, it
very strongly kept on moving backwards and forwards to the letter 'Y' and it
kept saying 'Y' 'Y' 'Y' and wondered if his spirit was asking why? That was the
strongest I ever felt it move and I believe that if we had let that glass move
of its own accord it might have flown across the room. The widow and I even
felt there was a presence in the room and both looked at the same spot where we
thought it was. We also believed this was my brother in law trying to make
contact with us in a very confused way.
During the throes of
my divorce, I was left in a delicate situation. My finances had changed dramatically. I was without my estranged husbands earnings
coming in and I had to give up work to claim benefits. In the end I was forced
to take in a lodger to meet the payments for mortgage and bills, etc. During
the course of this time I befriended the lodger and with my friend over a
drink, we decided to have a dabble with the Ouija board. After a few minutes,
it was obvious that a spirit wanted to make contact with the lodger and spelt
out words and with such force, 'Liar' 'cheat' thief'! The lodger was so deeply
embarrassed that his whole face was as red as his bright red shirt. It was
quite amusing to see him in such a state having recognised the spirits' name
that came through to him and him taking it all so seriously! But after a year
or so, towards the end of his stay, he left me with a huge telephone bill,
having made contact with his father who lived in Australia and an ex girlfriend
who lived 150 miles away. He was also a couple of weeks in arrears with his
rent money. It was not a good time, especially as he promised to send over the
money that he owed me that never appeared.
About a year later, I
heard that he had an accident on his motor cycle. He was lucky or even unlucky
he didn't get killed as he fractured so many bones in his body - some beyond
repair which in later years he couldn't cope with and eventually, he ended up
in a psychiatric unit.
I had read stories
that bad spirits from the lower plane could easily come through the glass and it was after one nonsensical session that I
started having frightening dreams. One dream was so bad I was unable to sleep
properly night after night without looking around the room. i dreamt I woke up
and it was in the dead of night and walked into the spare bedroom. There was
furniture covered in old off white blankets, covered in cobwebs. There were
more dirty old cobwebs and dust hanging from the ceiling. I did not understand
why this was happening as in the dream I felt as if I was wide awake. I walked
into the bathroom, sat on the edge of the bath, the door that was slightly
ajar; I could see a blackened glove hand, slowly coming towards me and nearer
my neck until I physically felt the individual leather clad fingers closing
around my windpipe until it was hard to breathe. I was so frightened, I willed
myself to wake up and was still panting and hyperventilation for hours after waking.
The nightmares kept coming and I was standing in my hallway and couldn't look
up towards my stairs or move anywhere. I was quite ridged to the spot not
knowing what was in front or behind me - just the feeling and the smell of pure
fear. I was crying for help and nobody came. Just the darkness and the unknown.
I have stood in my
kitchen and felt as if there was a presence with me which frightened me so
much, I could not stay in there. I have seen really ugly twisted faces of humans in the bark of my old tall apple tree at
the end of my garden during the twilight evenings.
My daughter had a
very good friend in Katy that lived not far from us and stayed overnight regularly, often playing music from their favourite bands, learning different
songs on the piano, talking into the night about their favourite boys, make up,
clothes and all things that eleven year olds' do.
They giggled far into the night and had a strong friendship. A few weeks later,
Katy was brutally murdered. The bastard who murdered her was already sectioned
or so it was reputed. He was a sick, twisted, pervert, who was obviously
watching Katy every evening on her way home from school as and she took the 100
yards or so short cut to her house through an alleyway, this is where her life
ended. He was found guilty and put away for life, but still a mystery
surrounded the case.
Many months later, we
got out our Ouija glass, washed it clean, asked for a prayer of protection and
together with the parent of the little girl used the letters and numbers for
identification and after some time, it seemed Katy had made contact. She spelt
out a name of a car and described it as being red and a brief description of
another person. After that session, it looked as if someone had breathed inside
that glass and within that opaque piece of glass was a perfectly scrawled
childish letter 'k'. That letter 'k' remains in the glass today, but whether or
not this new information was reported to the police or whether it was taken
seriously, I really do not know.
In the meantime, it
is rumoured that Pete ended up in prison after beating someone up leaving him
in very bad shape. Apparently, he went quiet mad within the prison walls
because of all the screaming but they were his own screams of insanity that
could be heard around the hundreds of prison cells, that echoed around the
prison day and night.
One of the other
crowd ended up having a nervous mental breakdown and is still breaking down
today.
Another continually
looks over her shoulder day and night and keeps looking under her bed, often
waking up and rechecking. She never turns her night light off. She also
developed an obsessive compulsive disorder and had to check everything three
times. She washed her hands three times and read correspondence through three
times - she even used three pieces of toilet paper and turned the key in the
lock three times, going out and coming in. The washing up, hovering and all
daily activities took all day as a consequence and when my telephone stops and
starts three times in a row, I know who is trying to contact me.
The widow remarried,
but her children turned against her and totally disowned her.
I do believe the rest
of the other crowd are still dabbling.
I still have
nightmares night after night that seem so real. I am afraid to go to sleep as I
am to stay awake.
I am now convinced
there is such a thing as spirit and the afterlife but will never know what kind
of entity that will enter your home when dabbling with the Ouija board and if
you ever get rid of it and wondered if this has happened to me.
Copyright Linda Lawrence
27th July 2006
Strange magic
A Mauritian Dream
Jacob didn’t like it when Mummy dropped him off at nursery four times a week –
and so early in the morning. He was very young and at the tender age of three
and a half he had little understanding of his feelings other than his confused
thoughts of being left by himself with people he hardly knew and not with his
Mummy. Once there, he was given some breakfast and lunch by these strangers who
were trying so hard to be nice to him - but they were not his Mummy. He
struggled with his emotions and thought if Mummy loved him as she occasionally
told him, he would be with her and not here with these other grown-ups and other
children. He wanted cuddles and his own toys in his own house with all the
little familiarities around him. Another day, more hysterical screaming and
salty tears fell from the lonely little boys’ big saucer brown eyes. His cute
button nose that was continually running watery snot that was so sore after
wiping it away onto the hard white cheap tissues the strangers gave him and his
top lip smarted from his constant licking. By the time Mummy came to rescue him
from the Nursery, his eyes were so red and puffy, he could do more than fall
into a troubled sleep; tired and exhausted from his weeping and was put straight
to bed without a story nor nursery rhyme or just a simple cuddle. Daddy was
hardly ever home and when he was, he was always busy on the computer
occasionally stealing a glance at his young son during those precious days at
home, but too preoccupied to really acknowledge what his little boy was getting
up to.
Jacob didn’t know what a holiday was, or the animals in the zoo of one of his
big nature books. The blue seaside and yellow sandcastles looked like such fun
for the little smiling boys and girls in the pictures of one of his storybooks,
but that was a life that didn’t belong to him. He had a slide, swing and see-saw in the big garden, but nobody to see-saw with him. He knew his little friend a
few doors away had a big sister who always played with her brother as he longed
for another sibling or just a nice friend to play with.
A normal inquisitive little boy who had wandered into the study, the door
unwittingly left open by his father after finding a much-needed book. There
were boxes of books, old ornaments so pretty in colours and from far away
lands. Materials in the brightest and boldest of beautiful colours and junk –
so much junk. Black statues, letters of the alphabet, boards with letters and
numbers on, tiny dolls, more books with so much grey dust on them, folders with
heaps of paperwork and so many old relics. Jacob thought this must be some sort
of wonderland with so much mystery and intrigue; he’d never been in this room
before but then he heard his Dad walk into the room and showing his annoyance
at finding Jacob in there.
Anita was a beautiful looking woman on the outside. She had the leanest of
figures, tall and pretty with the most liquid deep-set brown eyes. The way she
sashayed up and down the corridor of the old folks home in the South East of
England - far away from her homeland of the West Indies. Anchora was renowned
to be the most popular retirement home in the district and Anita had worked so
hard to get where she wanted to be in a Managerial position. She was good at
her job – at least head office in the city thought she was the best at juggling
the accounts and saving the company money. Fact was, the more money she saved,
the bigger her annual bonus and she was clearly hungry for more money. She was not very well liked with hardly any of her staff because she simply did not know how to relate to them. She wasn’t a peoples’ person at all and she had
upset most of them many times, contradicted herself and it was so difficult to
approach her as she tended to sweep problems under the carpet without resolving
anything at all, be it an incident with a resident, a staff member, a problem
with the home. She often overreacted as if she could not cope, only to try and
compose herself shortly after to try and justify her actions. She had a false laugh,
which made some people feel uneasy or uncomfortable. As she walked through the
corridors, she had no intention of dropping in on the residents and seemed to
take delight at ordering her staff how to do things ‘her way’. It was indeed,
an unhappy environment and the residents sensed most of the staff were feeling
despondent and depressed. Anita loved the power, control and the sound of her
job title but did not adhere to her role and this was the way she had treated
her staff expecting too much all at once resulting in tears of frustration,
even illness and eventual showdowns. Some had learned to live with it. Many
staff had resigned because of her attitude. She could be so rude to them with
little perception of how they might be feeling. She disposed of staff as easy
as she employed them as it suited. It was clear; all she cared for was the
running of the home and it to be run properly without any other care except to
make as much money as possible. The carer’s salaries were only just above the
minimum wage - but they stayed. They needed a pay packet, so they persisted,
except a few who were bold enough to say enough was enough and pursued another
job. Many prayed she would leave or be replaced although some who stayed often
chanted ‘better the devil you know’ as if someone new would be so much worse
than her – if that were possible.
Another day and more ear-piecing screams from Jacob, not wanting to be anywhere
else other than the small comfort of the house he lived in. Anita eventually
gave in to having a day at home with him. The guilt set in every now and again
that showed there really was a human bone of some kindness in her body
somewhere. The usual cold-hearted behaviour spilled over from work to home from
home to work.
Every room in the family house spilled over with material wares. The five
bedroom detached house in rural South East England was approximately 17 and a
half kilometres from the care home where Anita pursued her career, was as cold
as she was. No room had been decorated with love - just the builders, painters
and decorators with her orders of personal taste. The exception of Jacobs’ room
however, consisted of pastels and a rainbow theme with a pretty coloured carpet
and his bedroom made him feel comforted and cosseted He’d often touch the ends
of the rainbow somehow searching for his salvation in the magical rainbow
world.
Sitting on Mummy’s lap was so rare that he felt so frustrated at not having
more of these moments; he scratched her face which drew blood and tugged her
black hair so hard a clump of it fell into his hand. Anita was so shocked and
surprised as her own tears fell, her little boy’s heartfelt sorrow of regret
fell onto a heart so frozen and found himself back in his room ‘until he could
behave’ properly. The whole day was one of difficulty and Jacob almost wished
he were back with the strangers at the nursery where he might have had some
tasty lunch instead of that disgusting vegetable soup he was made to eat with
the wholemeal bread. Once again, he did not understand how he should be feeling
or why he pulled Mummy’s hair so hard, but he knew now it was wrong. He found
some solace playing Mummy’s and Daddy’s with his tiny dolls he found and
imagined what a happy family might have been like and an overwhelming craving
for something to change.
The most powerful and intense pain of
childbirth went on for hours upon hours; it was too late for an emergency
Caesarean and the strong pain relief that had been administered some hours ago
had worn off and too late to receive more. With every push, she felt herself
tear a little more and her screaming that was heard from other mothers-to-be
had now been replaced by a resigned weak whimpering. It was decided she would
have some help from forceps and before the local anaesthetic fully numbed her,
she was surgically cut to allow the baby to be pulled out. More complications
arose as the chord was situated in an awkward and dangerous position and all
the money for the private room and the flurry of the team of Doctors and
Midwives did everything they could to ensure this child was born now as safely
as possible and as a pair of hands reached high beyond the baby to manipulate
the position, the last ounce of her energy were her ear-piecing screams that
filled the hospital corridors.
The team could not remember the last
time they had witnessed such a traumatic and dangerous birth.
While Daddy was tidying Jacob’s bedroom, he came across a small, slim, black
effigy and wondered why it had dried blood and black hair attached to it. He
thought no more about it and this and some other tiny baby dolls were chucked
into the landfill bin.
Anita was still in terrible shock by the birth, she could do no more than sit
in a strange transfixed stare occasionally flinging her arms in the air looking
like she was trying to climb up and out of something. This went way beyond
postnatal depression and needed much intense care and several days staying in a
day centre to give her the proper help that was needed after her being
sectioned.
Jacob’s new little brother was so perfect, he stared at him adoringly for ages
on end wanting him to grow up fast so he could play on his see-saw He rushed in
from his new school from his reception class yearning to have a cuddle with him
and his new Nanny was only happy to oblige.
Copyright Linda Lawrence
11th June 2009
