Welcome to Litwich Pt. III

Teddy thought the ouija board felt good to the touch.

If you ignored the purpose of its manufacture. The wood had a pretty grain, varnished to dark brown. Someone had carved the letters, painted their innards gold. A sun lingered in the top left corner, a sickle moon hung in the right. Alphabetical rows — curved in semicircles — occupied the centre. Beneath the letters, a series of numbers from one to zero, and the ominous phrase ‘GOOD BYE’. The planchette — an ornate, heart-shaped piece — had a view hole halfway down.

But it didn’t work. He’d tried: “Hello? Is anyone there? Please make your presence felt.” Nothing. The planchette sat on the board, lifeless as a dead mouse. He considered dumping it into the bin, as a gesture of exasperation with the undead. And then thought better of it. Teddy slid it back into its paper skin. He’d return it to Astrid. Along with some excuse.

As the day went on — and the light shifted through more shades of gloom than he’d ever seen — a sense of unease grew. Teddy attempted to quiet the grumble with neat gin. But that only gave him acid reflux and sent him on a downward spiral. And still, the board called to him.

Teddy killed the lights and lit some candles. The glow of the flames couldn’t push back the encroachment of the gloom from the rain outside. He set it up at the kitchen table. And tried again.

This time, someone picked up.

And showed up.

Uncle Bill and Aunt Willow crawled up from the shadows and slumped into the chairs opposite. Storm clouds on Bill’s face, whilst Willow’s mind seemed elsewhere. Teddy resisted the urge to look below the table. Some things you can’t unsee.

“Now, what’s this about, boy? Disturbin’ our peace ‘n’ whatnot.” His lips didn’t move.

Teddy blinked. At last, he managed to utter June’s name. “Have you seen her?”

Uncle Bill sighed. “Don’t know the girl.”

True, now that Teddy thought about it. They’d never met, whilst alive. “But… is she there?”

Bill sniffed. “Woulda seen her if she was.” Willow started to shift and whine. Bill’s eyes darted to her. He patted her on the knee. “Shh, darlin’.” His dead eyes flashed back to Teddy. “Get this over with.”

“So, what? Where is she?” His voice pled, whined. “Is—” he licked his lips “—is there someplace else?” Unspoken: Hell?

“Not that I know of.”

“Oh.”

Bill fidgeted, then softened. “Well, boy, here’s the way I see it. If we ain’t heard of her, and you can’t get in contact with her—”

Teddy concluded with the thud of a coffin lid.

“Then she’s not dead.”