01
Mar
18

Saying Goodbye

Saying_Goodbye.jpg

Bishop had had enough. He bent his fingers and slid the battered piece of triangular plastic to the corner of the board. The glass lens with the iron pin struck through the middle hovered over the word “Goodbye,” marked on the board with a wood burning kit he had found lurking in the attic.

He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. He’d known it was a bad idea, especially given his lack of experience with the methods. He just had been out of options. This had been as fruitless as everything else he’d tried, though, and it was time to stop.

As Bishop started to pull his fingers off the planchette, he felt something like an electric shock ripple from his wrist to the tips of his fingers and back again. They went numb in an instant, feeling heavy and leaden. A moment later, he felt his arms pulled forward as the planchette crept towards the top right corner; when it stopped, it was perched atop the word “No.”

Gritting his teeth, Bishop flexed his forearms with as much strength and pressure as he could, standing up to do it.

“Like hell,” he growled.

The sound was atrocious; he succeeded in dragging it an inch towards “Goodbye” when the felt caps on the feet of the planchette slid off; after that, it was digging into the board itself like it was trying to fight him. Three long gouges marred the board, growing deeper as Bishop bore down.

He was panting and sweat was dripping from his brow by the time he got it there. The numbness in his hands was gone, replaced by a throbbing pain that reminded him of the times he’d caught his fingers in a door or missed with a hammer. He still couldn’t release the marker, though.

Somewhere nearby, he heard a rumble of thunder; taking a quick glance around the darkened room, he saw the VCR’s display begin blinking “12:00” repeatedly, and heard the air conditioner wind down and go into power saving mode. Brownout, he thought. Nothing to worry about.

Before he’d even finished the thought, he felt something wrap around his wrist. Strong hands with the hint of claws digging into his flesh. It yanked, dragging the planchette back to “No” once again.

“I’m done! You hear me! Get the fuck out!”

The six black candles set before him, each of them gifts from Lilly before she’d died, flickered and went out as one. He felt his arms being yanked to the left, and even in the darkness, he knew where the planchette had stopped.

“Hello,” of course.

Bishop saw the darkness seem to solidify in front of him, pulling together into some hulking shape. He didn’t know what it was, what it would look like; all he knew was that he didn’t want to know. He snapped his eyes shut and clamped his lips together, grinding his teeth.

“Bishop,” a gravelly voice groud against his ears, making his sinuses tighten and driving water from beneath his closed eyelids. It sounded pleased.

“So glad you called,” it said.

KA Spiral no signature

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