Ouija, Ouija

I was attending Texas Tech in that hotbed of paranormal activity that is Lubbock. A group of us, as bored then as I am now, got a Ouija board and plied it with questions like, “When will I lose my virginity, and who with?” I took my turn, concluded it was lame, and therefore was standing off to the side and nowhere near the board when somebody got the idea to ask, “Has any one of us ever seen a ghost?”



PAT (That was me.)

“Oh, sure,” I scoffed. “Who was the ghost?”

Quickly and surely, whizzing around the board, the planchette spelled out:


Well, they said I turned so white they thought I was the ghost. Clara, you see, was my aunt, my father’s baby sister, who died of pneumonia at the age of two, many years before I was born or thought of, in the mountains of North Carolina.

There’s no way any of those girls could have known that. We were all from different towns; none of us knew each other as children, or each other’s family history. In fact, I had forgotten I ever knew about Clara’s brief life and sad death.

It was years before I’d touch a Ouija board again, but once again it got spooky. This time it involved cats. The board was telling us a patently BS but entertaining tale of CiCi Talbain, who was bitten by a dog (or werewolf) at LSU, which my daughter was attending at the time. I happened to look up and saw one of our cats, Weasel, staring intently at the board.

No human present saw anything unusual.

Even stranger was that another cat, Johnny, had turned his back and squeezed his eyes shut like there was something there he did NOT want to see.

Since then I’ve stayed away from Ouija boards. I think cats are smarter than people about things like that.


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