Voices From Beyond

Prologue

The letters on the board are printed in abc order. A single word at the top of the board reads out Ouija. The word yes and the word no are printed out on either top corner. On the bottom, it reads goodbye. A woman places her finger on the corner of the planchette, it sends a jolt of electricity through her bones. Sitting cross-legged on her attic floor, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. The ground beneath her begins to shake, there are whispers of unfamiliar voices swirling in her head. The planchette twitches beneath her finger and causes her eyelids to flutter open in alert. "Is anyone here? Please make yourself known," she speaks calmly, ignoring the voices surrounding her. She knows that nobody is really there with her, she waited for her kids to leave for school and her husband to go to work. Suddenly she feels a wave of dizziness wash over her, all she wants is to take a nap right here. The board was just calling to her, it couldn't wait anymore. It was almost driving her insane. The planchette scrapes against the wooden board but stops halfway to the word yes. "Why do you keep whispering to me?" she cries out, slamming her free hand on the board of the attic floor. She winces in pain as she hears the board make a snapping noise. A drop of blood trickles down from a tear in her skin. Ignoring the sting, she keeps her eyes on the board. "Do you want to hurt me?" she whispers. Instantly, her hand is jerked sideways and dragged over to the word yes. Her heart pounds in her chest. This can't really be happening.

She found the board weeks ago in a garage sale and it hasn't left her alone since. She removes her hands from the board and abruptly covers it up with a nearby old sheet. Dust floats into the air and sinks it's way into her lungs, she coughs and instinctively waves the dust away from her. She slides the covered-up board under an old couch in the corner of her attic and pushes herself to her feet. As she rushes to flea down the ladder of the attic, she hears a small tapping noise from behind her. She holds her breath, uncertain as to if she should turn around. Reluctantly, she does. Slowly, she turns to face the couch. Faintly she can see small, bony, pale fingers drumming against the wood. The yellow fingernails send a blanket of fear across her skin. She takes a step closer. Then another. Soon enough, she finds herself only inches from the small hand. She blinks once, the hand lashes out and wraps itself around her ankle. Her screams are muffled, her mouth is unable to open. The hand yanks her, pulling her in.

It's been three years since the unexplained disappearance of Macey Brown, wife and mother of two boys. Her oldest son, Mitch Brown, is alone one winter Saturday evening. The wind blows outside his windows, his friends should be arriving soon. He and his basketball team are going to the diner to listen to the band that plays every Saturday night. Thoughts of his mother torment him when he's alone, he could never understand why she would just leave out of the blue without telling anyone. He misses her, so much it hurts. He does what he couldn't bring himself to do for the past three years, he heads up to the attic where she used to scrapbook. As the ladder falls down, he can almost smell her again. He climbs up, the ladder creaking with each step. After hoisting himself inside, his eyes instantly fall upon a sheet crumbled up beneath an old couch. Instinctively, he drags out the dusty sheet and examines what's underneath.