Page 4 of Secrets in Salem: Part One

A noisevery much like a whimper escapes my lips, and my hands begin to tremble with the growing panic building inside me. However, no matter how hard my hands shake, I don’t lose grip on the wretched planchette. It remains perfectly in place, resting on the board while I tremble like a damn leaf.

"Are you good or evil?" I whisper, the tremble in my voice more pronounced now. I swallow hard, hoping to regain some semblance of the relaxed posture I had before. It’s no use; my back is ramrod straight and already aching.

The planchette doesn't move, so I rephrase my question while anxiety does its best to drown me in its pool of despair. "Are you dead? A… a spirit?"

With effortless ease, the wooden eye smoothly slides back to 'NO.' Every organ in my body feels frozen, my breath trapped in my lungs while my blood turns to ice in my veins. Panic scrapes at my nerves with sharpened claws, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out if I don’t get a breath of air pronto.

Through the fear clogging my brain, I manage to mentally ask the only question I have left floating in there. If I'm not communicating with a spirit, what the hell have I summoned?

A huge pit of regret forms in my gut, and horror clutches tightly at my chest. The urge to leave and never return to Hollow Grove woods is almost suffocating. Well, it would be suffocating if my ability to breathe at all hadn’t been compromised. I'd give in to the pressing need to flee if I could remove my hands from the board I never should have fucking bought. This has been a valuable lesson I won’t soon forget.

Just when I start to believe I’m going to pass out in the middle of the woods, a touch as hot as heated coal caresses my chin so gently I wouldn’t have felt it had it not been for the scalding trail left on my skin. My breath finally leaves me in a whoosh of air, only for me to suck back in a lungful with a delayed gasp. The touch is such a vast difference to the icy chill of the wind that it stings my chin.

Thankfully, the air doesn’t catch in my lungs, my breathing coming out shaky and fast, causing mist to seep from my teeth with every exhale. An invisible force tilts my head away from the board, and another whimper escapes me, my fear notching up another level. Heart hammering painfully in my chest, my terror builds to an almost palpable level in the air. It’s like a physical thing creeping through the fog that now crawls from the depths of the forest.

The invisible force nudges my chin until my head faces the moon, though my eyes only see the darkness of the sky above. That’s weird. I should be able to see the moon and stars. They’re hard to miss, after all, given that they take up the entire damned sky.

Since I can't seem to raise my voice any louder than a whisper, I rasp out the question, "What are you?"

No answer comes, but the scalding touch leaves my chin. I don't move my head from where it's been placed, scared to anger whatever I've mistakenly brought to fruition. Teaches me to mess with shit I don’t fully understand. I’m just another statistic of people who mess with the supernatural and suffer the repercussions. If this were a movie, I’d be the annoying dumbass who fucks up right from the get go. I’d roll my eyes at myself if I wasn’t so scared.

"What do you want?" I croak, my skin prickling with goosebumps as the cold replaces the harsh burn left under my chin.

The night grows bleaker, the darkness almost suffocating until everything just… stops. No longer does the wind howl, settling into silence. The woods becomes unnaturally still, silence stretching on as far as I can hear. Looming trees become menacing silhouettes against the darkened sky until only the spindly branches are visible beneath the glow of the moon I still can’t see.

I should have listened to Mom. I should never have come here tonight. My time would have been better spent had I simply stayed at home with a giant bowl of candy ready to give to the children of Salem who are spending their evening filled with glee. Instead, terror has frozen me in place while the supernatural means for answers have backfired so spectacularly that I've found myself speaking with an unknown entity that doesn't seem at all friendly. Could I have fucked up any worse?

Like something is trying to prove that yes, I certainly could have fucked up worse, another scorching touch finds the apple of my cheek. Through gritted teeth, I scream at the pain that follows. I cansmellmy flesh burning, as well as feel it, the agony so intense that I grow momentarily dizzy. Tears pool in my eyes, and my breaths come in gasps.

Unable to restrain myself, I yell, "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

Everything seems to happen at once. The candles flames build to abnormally large heights, the fire kissing the skin on my face and hands. They catch my clothes, setting them alight.

So suddenly it hurts, my head snaps down to the board without my say so, my hands beginning to fly over the charred piece so fast I can barely keep up. I grit my teeth against the searing pain that licks my spine, doing my best to ignore the fire that's melting the clothes off my body and focus on the planchette as it whizzes to different letters on the board without my guidance.

The movements are almost angry.

Punishing.

The wooden eye charges across the board repetitively until I start putting the words together.Return. Hell. Soul. Child.

I don't understand. What do they even mean? That doesn't make sense.

The planchette repeats the motions, and it's taking everything in me to focus on the letters instead of the agonizing pain lacing through my body as the flames grow hotter and hotter.

Return... pieces… soul... Lost… child… of Hell.

My eyes widen just as tears begin to waver on my lower lashes. Not a moment later, they slip, pouring from my eyes and trailing wet tracks down my cheeks. The salty drops sizzle against the burnt ouija board. Lost child of hell? Return pieces soul? It’s fucking gibberish.

A pang of sickness unfurls in my gut while a sinking feeling plagues my body. It's the very same sensation as dreaming of falling only to wake up with a sudden jolt, covered in a pool of sweat and a heart thundering damn near out of your chest. Only, there's no waking up for me. I'm falling fast, the ground drawing closer, the collision inevitable.

The planchette suddenly stops in the middle of the board, and my tear-filled eyes fall quickly back to it. With precise movements, the triangle moves painfully slowly over the letters. Each move is deliberate, the glass eye highlighting every letter with clarity.

D-A-U-G-H-T-E-R.

Before I can react, a whole new round of pain flares from the cavern of my chest, knocking the breath out of me with so much force my sight blurs. It shreds my veins, ripping through my torso while my bones painfully snap, crack, and crunch under an invisible force. It’s as though someone has shoved a fist through my chest, fingers circling my heart with an iron grip.

A scream breaks through my lips, rasped and broken. My eyesight blurs when more tears start streaming down my cheeks. Loud cries and screams of pain bounce off the trees when they slip from my mouth, trailing off just before more follow.

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