Page 3 of Secrets in Salem: Part One

The lit candles flicker as a breeze floats through the air, causing me to shiver against the chill. I adjust the photo and drop back until I’m sitting on the heels of my suede boots. Shivers wrack my body as a stronger gust of wind sends the hair that isn’t contained by my hat into disarray. The chill seeps beneath my skin, cooling me to my very bones. I rub my hands together quickly, breathing into my cupped palms just to gather a little bit of warmth before I begin.

Taking a long, deep breath and releasing it slowly, condensation pouring from my lips in a plume of mist, I ignore it and place two fingers from each hand on the intricately patterned planchette. Keeping them securely pressed against the soft wood and away from the glass eye at the point, I bite my lip and focus. Just as instructed, I move the planchette in a figure eight, gliding it over the smooth surface.

When I've circled the lower board three more times, I come to a stop and breathe in deeply before releasing the air through my nose. Quietly but intently, I ask the empty air, "Are there any spirits here with me tonight?"

I wait a moment, eyes firmly fixated on the planchette, waiting for it to move.

It doesn't.

Nothing happens.

I frown. Clearing my throat, I make my voice louder as I ask once more, "Are there any spirits here with me tonight?"

Again, I get no response, the wooden eye sitting motionless beneath my fingertips. I can feel the small spark of fragile hope I’ve been holding onto slipping through my cold fingers. I didn't strongly believe this would work at all, but a small part of me thoughtmaybeit would. Maybe I'd get some answers. It's stupid, come to think about it now. I'm in the belly of Hollow Grove woods with a ouija board, sitting in a pentagram drawn of chalk, surrounded by candles on Halloween. Ugh. I feel a total dumbass.

"Well, this was a waste of fucking time," I grumble dejectedly, my shoulders slumping with defeat.

I sigh, feeling sorry for myself. Mom didn't - or wouldn't - give me the answers I needed. What little she gave me led me absolutely nowhere, leaving me no choice but to do my own research. This was a last ditch effort to finally find out where I came from, a lame effort and one that didn't even work. I knew I shouldn't have hoped for different, but I’d dared to wish for even something small. One question answered, at least. Just…something.

Feeling stupid for even attempting this plan, I groan and curse. "Stupid damned thing. I only wanted to know where I came from. Is that so much to ask?"

I shove the board away, only… it doesn't move. I make a move to lift my hands from the planchette, only to find them practically super glued to the small piece of wood. That’s not right. With a frown, I try to move the planchette with me, but it suddenly feels weighed down, like it's made of the heaviest metal and not the lightest of woods. What the actual hell is going on?

Just as the question flutters through my mind, the temperature drops, getting even colder. With every breath I take, more mist escapes, creating a flurry of chilled air in front of my face. Goosebumps break out over my skin, and I fail to suppress a body-wracking shiver when the cold grows unbearable. My teeth clatter together, and the skin on my face begins to sting with the bite of the wind that starts mercilessly lashing at me. The sky seems to darken further, the stars blinking out of sight while the navy blue sky turns black. The moon pulses harder, the glow surrounding it growing until it's almost blinding.

Everything around me grows eerily still, the creak of the trees and rustle of the leaves fading until all I'm able to hear is the sound of my own blood pumping through my veins. My ears ring, and my pulse begins to race. A fear like I've never known before tickles my spine, much like a crooked finger gently trailing over my back with familiarity.

Shuddering, I turn my head quickly, my long hair fanning around me with the sudden movement. I scan behind me, finding nothing out of the ordinary, so I turn back to face the ouija board and freeze. It seems to be changing color before my very eyes. What used to be polished oak littered with a few scratches now fades to a blackened wood that looks as though it's been set on fire and pulled out of the flames just before turning to ash. The letters turn blood-red before liquid fills the crevices where the words and letters have been carved. I’m pretty sure thatisblood.

My breath stills in my lungs and my eyes widen as I watch the metallic-smelling liquid spill over the indentations in the charred wood, trickling across the ruined surface of the board and over the edge onto the stone ground below. How can I even smell it with the wind billowing so harshly around me?What the hell is happening?

An answering groan of the trees greets me, the rumbling of tree trunks cracking and breaking as I watch them bend unnaturally. The wind grows stronger, knocking the hat off my head and billowing my hair away from my face. The flames of the candles are snuffed out by one particularly wild gust of wind, throwing me further into darkness, the moon left as my only source of light.

Fear causes my heart to thunder faster beneath my ribs as I watch the streams of blood pooling from the board bubble as though they’re boiling. It spits and spills over the edge, hissing when the scalding substance hits the freezing cold floor below. It’s enough to turn my stomach, the lunch I’d had just before leaving the house churning uncomfortably in my gut. No matter how hard I try, my gaze is drawn to the liquid like I can’t keep my eyes away.

Just as quickly as it all starts, everything seems to die down all at once. The trees stop wailing loudly, the wind settles to a light breeze, and the steaming blood trickles to a stop. Only a few drops pool over the edge of the board and onto the ground directly beneath it. The temperature remains icy, biting at the skin on my face. The ouija board is still burnt with remains of copper-scented blood staining the letters, illuminated by the sudden flash of light as the candles flicker back to life. The glow emanating from their small flames would have been soft and comforting under different circumstances. Instead, they only make this whole situation eerier, creating dancing shadows over the stone.

I wait a moment, air trapped in my lungs, afraid to make even a single noise for fear I might set off another chain of weird events. Nothing happens for a long five minutes, and I slowly begin to relax my stiff posture. Once I’m certain everything has settled down, I release the breath I’ve been holding. The air gushes from me with a tremor, the mist not so harsh as it pours from my parted lips. My posture relaxes completely, shoulders slumping and head hanging on my shoulders. It’s as though my body turns to mush when every drop of tension drains slowly from me, leaving my limbs all tingly and strange.

My next breath leaves my mouth in a thinner cloud of condensation, the air still chilled, keeping my fingers cold as ice. I try to tuck them under my armpits, hoping to warm them up before they grow stiff, but it appears I’m still unable to part them from the stupid board. I frown, but my gaze is drawn to the ouija board almost as if compelled to look down. Right in that moment, my fingers start tingling where they gently but forcibly rest on the charred planchette.

Squinting, I try to move my fingers again, only this time when I move my hands, the little wooden triangle moves with me. The tips of my fingers still feel glued to the small piece, but the relief I feel to be able to move my hands at all has me releasing another puff of air.

Just as I finally begin to relax despite my growing confusion, I feel the sensation of someone dragging a finger up my back once again, the scrape of a sharp nail dragging over the thin material of my dress. Any relaxation I’d been harboring dissipates as fast as it came, my spine stiffening painfully as my next breath catches in my throat with a squeak. I make to move again, but my fingers remain glued to this goddamned wooden eye that won't move any further than the board will allow. How is this even possible?!

I’m on the brink of falling right back into a panicked stupor when something inside my brain just...clicks...and my thoughts warp until all I can think of is asking the board my questions again. Trying to communicate with the woman who birthed me clouds my mind, and I find myself almost mindlessly gliding the planchette around the bottom of the board in a repeated figure eight. My movements are smooth despite the charred board, but I don’t pay it much attention, a passing thought before my mind is consumed with the need for answers once more.

With the last movement of the planchette, I pause my hands and lift my head to face the dark shadows of Hollow Grove woods. With a tremor in my voice that I can’t disguise, I whisper into the night air, "Is something here with me tonight?"

My heart clenches tightly in my chest when the planchette moves without my aid, sliding over to the word in the right corner that plainly reads 'NO.' Eyes wide and breaths coming in fast, I try to calm my pounding heartbeat to no avail, a cold sweat beading along my spine. Sucking in a ragged lungful of air, I can do nothing but watch as the planchette moves to its original spot.

I don't know what compels me to ask, but the moment the wooden eye is in place, my mouth opens of its own accord, and, with a hard shake in my voice, I rasp, "Is someonehere with me tonight?"

Dread pools in my gut, and my stomach clenches painfully. The planchette moves slowly, like a force is pulling and guiding it intently. I have to swallow a couple of times, my mouth going dry when my eyes follow its path. I’ll be damned if the thing doesn’t land on the word 'YES.'

Chapter 3

Willow

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