I’m losing sleep. My eyes burn, and I’m starting to see things that shouldn’t be there. I’m starting to hear things too, things that aren’t too friendly sounding, and I have scratches across my lower back. We’re a group of amateur ghost hunters in my town. Nothing major, just a group of 6. We’ve gone to a few spooky places, but nothing really major has happened. It’s kind of a feeling of defeat.
The lack of anything paranormal or spooky made it less and less interesting for us. So, for the very purpose of being more in tune with the other side, I’ve volunteered to be the groups spiritual medium. I prepared by reading Anton Lavey, The Lesser Keys of Solomon, t The Necrononicon, The Witches Hammer, and anything occult I could get my hands on. Apart from hours and hours of online research, I also started messing with a Quija board. Not just any Quija board, this Quija board came from my uncles wooden chest of satanic memorabilia.
My uncle died of a self administered heroin overdose. He was into the occult. It’s where I got my fascination with it from. Months before he did what he did. He was running amuck. He got arrested a couple of times. got out in a week or so. To this day, people still say if they had kept him in jail, they’d still be alive. This has nothing to do with my story, but since I started, I might as well end it. He caught his girlfriend cheating with one of his buddies. He was staying with her at a ran down motel known for its drug use and criminal elements that reside there. He caught them in his room, surprised them in the act. He overpowered both of them, tied them up, and they said he tortured them. He went all out on a drug and alcohol binge for 3 days. He tortured them for 3 days but didn’t find the 3 bodies for a whole week.
Someone put out a missing person report on his girlfriend. It only took a week for them because she had prostitution priors, and it’s true the cops never really look too hard when it involves a missing prostitute. My uncle met her that way, but he took her out of that life, so he thought. Drugs had a very bad impact on his decision-making. After he decapitated both of them, he attempted to sew their heads back on with fishing line.
These are just rumors, but they said that he decapitated them with his bare hands, and no weapons were ever found. Anyway, he then gave himself an extra huge shot of heroin and fell asleep and never woke up. Someone complained about the smell days lat, r and along with that missing woman’s report it lead them to that motel room. The towns residents made our family out to be these horrible people. They called us Witches and Satan worshippers because of the satanic books and the symbols my uncle carved on the bodies. He also had an alter to Satan and the wooden chest that my mom had to threaten with legal counsel to get the police to return to us after the investigation. It was all she had left of her brother.
Fast forward to me now becoming the groups medium. I started to get more and more into my role. So it really felt like now we were seeing things and communicating with spirits now that I had picked up a few cheats on the other side. We were never really in any danger, scared shitless, but never in danger as I was confident to possess the needed spiritual knowledge to get us out of any trouble. Or so I thought. I was stupid and never really careful. I guess I never really took it too seriously. I always felt like it wasn’t real. I’ve kind of always been disconnected from believing in it. And even more after getting harrased because of what my uncle did due to his dark beliefs.
So, during his trial and with all the town spreading, runors disconnected me from even questioning if it was real. So when we would go ghost hunting, I never really believed in anything, so it was boring. Until I became the medium and dove right into the occult rabbit hole. And I was doing everything negative to get to see some other forces or spirits in real life. I was taunting spirits, leaving full conversation with the quija open, I’d draw sigils and try to invoke demons, I’d summon spirits using a mirror and candles at 3 a.m. I’d do anything considered a bad thing to do spiritually for a week straight in preparation for our next ghost hunting outing.
All my preparation and newfound knowledge really seemed to help. We’d now hear voices, see shadows move, feel lightheaded, and paranoia soon followed. I started having really bad nightmares. I started getting nose bleeds. I’d get really bad sleep paralysis, I was put on antidepressants. I started to see more and more things around changing. I became distant from my friends. I also started playing with the quija board more and more. I would talk to spirits good and bad. Once, I even talked to my uncle, who told me that every time I play with his quija board, he gets tortured in hell more and more. He begged me not to do anymore, then he quickly went away, and I haven’t talked to him anymore.
One night, after not sleeping for 4 or so nights in a row, I’ll admit not sleeping induces hallucinations, and your mind starts playing games with you. I was broadcasting on the quija board, inviting someone to come in and talk to me. As I circled three times with the planchet, it suddenly stopped on yes. I began to talk to Morgan. She was 14 and didn’t know she was even dead. She was claiming to be talking to me thru the mirror and candle seance and said I was the one who was dead. She told me she had been trying to summon spirits to talk to for an hour before I came in to talk to her. She didn’t know what the date was but claimed to be in private school. I looked up the name, and that school was demolished a long time back. They built a bank over it. She tells me her sister was run over and she tries to communicate with her but hasn’t been able to. It’s so crazy to have mastered the quija board as I have. I’ll close my eyes and can see Morgan as we speak. Just thought I’d post this. Just to share. I still talk to Morgan, and I’m still just a shut-in from the outside world. Reddit and drawing is how I spend the time not broadcasting through the quija board. I’m consumed by my depression and my spiritual quest to master what my uncle was too weak to accomplish.