They chose the dungeon of all places to set up the Ouija board. It sat on a large stone table that had once housed a rack, used for stretching prisoners to get them to confess. Sometimes, just to torture them.

The room was lit with candles, all prepared by the medium to make the place look imposing.

She was in her late forties, and had wowed her crowd with her cold reading earlier on in the night. When they sat around the table, they were entranced, waiting for her to connect with the afterlife.

“Is there anyone out there?” she announced, her voice echoing inside the cold and damp stone room.

The planchet moved to Yes.

I scoffed at the ridiculous display.

She looked up, her eyes darting around the room, looking for the source of the sound, like a school teacher searching for someone to blame. Gasps filled the room.

Over eager participants reached for the wooden pointer to get involved.

“What’s your name?”

The planchet darted around the board, spelling out B-R-O-M.

“Do you think they meant broom?” one man said, laughing.

The medium sat there, sweat gathering on her brow.

“Shhh,” she demanded and the room fell silent.

“How long have you been trapped here?”

It moved again, spelling out 6-5-3.

“653 years?” she asked.

The planchet moved to Yes.

Nervously she asked, “Have you anything to tell us from the other side?”

Rapidly the words I W-I-L-L K-I-L-L Y-O-U were spelt out in front of the amazed onlookers.

The medium stood up, and in a panic ran out of the room screaming. Her guests sat confused, murmuring between themselves.

I smiled, hovering in the corner, looking down at the table. I love fucking with them. Especially the fakers.

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