First and last time playing with a ouija board

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My name is Lenore, and yes my mother loves Edgar Allan Poe 😀 I have to say this fast because I tried writing this and realized there is a limit on the amount of text allowed here so I’ll try to keep all the important details in whilst still saying the story in a shorter format.
When I was 13, me and my only best friend who we’ll called Naomi decided to play with a ouija board. Don’t judge us ok we were dumb f*cks we know it okey enough. Basically, we played even though my grandmother had always told me not to do it, I know most of you will be skeptical about it but I’ve learned to live with it. She was a witch and now the grimoire is passed down to me, it runs in the family, and she always told me not to play with the board because ‘we aren’t those types of witches’, but I did it anyway because I had a crush on Naomi at the time (I’m gay btw). We played and nothing happened for a while, but after 10 minute she started calling out for a certain demon who’s name begins with a ‘Z’ and ends with a n ‘O’ (if you know, you know.) I damn near killed her when she gave him PERMISSION to enter one of us, and that’s when the planchette started to move.
It only spelt out random things like ‘tree’ or ‘spoon’ and Naomi found this for some reason funny. But I sh*t you not, her face could not have turned more whiter when the board, clear as day in perfect English spelt out ‘hard to laugh, when no tongue’. She screamed ‘f this’ and ran to my room, not saying goodbye and leaving me to do it. As a witch, I have a natural sense of spirits, entities and other energies, and when she ran upstairs I felt a huge weight being lifted sort of out of the room and away from me. I said goodbye and threw the homemade paper board into the trash after ripping it up when I heard her yell my name from upstairs. She was standing in front of my room door, looking at it closed. I came up to her, and soon noticed that on my white door the name of the infamous demon had been scratched deep into the wood.
I got angry and scolded her for doing this, that it wasn’t funny. Her look changed from anger to pure fear in 0.3 seconds when she whispered ‘you didn’t do this?’ I had never been so afraid in my life, I swear up and down neither one of us did that, I made her swear too. On that day, she left before my mother came home from work and I felt the presence in the house. I didn’t know what to do, because the whispers, footsteps and someone yelling my name at the morning hours continued for days, but I never confessed to my grandmother.
Here comes the creepiest part. Maybe two or three weeks later, we were having a party at my house and after cutting the cake, I went to lick the knife from the sides, I always do this and never ever has anything happened to me. I go to lick the knife, when I feel a gust of breath on the back of my neck and get spooked. I ended up licking the knife, on the wrong side and cutting my tongue pretty badly. I’m okay now, but I still have a scar going down the middle of my tongue. I told Naomi that maybe the board got it wrong and meant me, but she laughed and said she didn’t know what I was talking about.
To this day, she refuses to admit we ever played the ouija board, and once when I brought it up, she went into a state of shock for such a long time I thought about calling an ambulance. She never told me of any experiences after we played, only once she mentioned something about recurring nightmares, but even that stopped after a while.
I’m 16 now, and to this day she hasn’t told me what she dreamed of or anything that may have happened. The ouija is not a game, it is not a toy. I wish I believed people that told me, because to this day I lay awake at night hearing footsteps and noises, and I have since moved back to my home country. It stayed with me, and I still get nightmares that leave me screaming. Maybe I’ll share the nightmares in a different post. I know some of you will still play. but please at least think about it, have more smarts than I did. I would take it back immediately. And by the way, when I moved out, Naomi moved into my old house… we don’t talk anymore, she refuses to speak to me about anything.

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