Supernatural with Julie Shelton

Have you ever had a supernatural experience?  Do you scoff at the idea that “something” unknown, unseen, unheard is out there and might be trying to communicate with us?  I was once one of those scoffers, but now I am a true pervert—um, convert.  Yes, convert.  (Okay, I’m a pervert, too, but that is neither here nor there).

When I was fifteen and we had to move away from Indianapolis, a place where I had a lot of really good friends, to Knoxville, Tennessee, a place where I knew no one, as a going-away present, my best girl friend gave me a Ouija board.  I’d never heard of such a thing and when I asked my father how to play with it, he said, “Oh, everybody puts their fingertips on the little table and you ask it questions and supposedly the little table moves around and spells out the answer.  But that’s a lot of bunk.  Someone is actually moving the little table.”  Which begged two questions: 1.  How did anyone who’d never seen or heard of the game before know that THEY had to move the little table?  And 2.  What if EVERYONE knew they had to move the table and they all tried to move it at the same time?  And if everyone knew that one of them was moving the little table, what was the point?  Okay, that’s three questions, but I digress.  The Ouija board got packed up and somewhere in our dozen or so subsequent moves, got lost or thrown out, which was fine by me because it was a stupid game anyway.

Fifteen years later, my then-boyfriend wanted me to meet some of his friends, Landon and Sylvia, so we just dropped in on them, unannounced.  They were sitting in the middle of their kitchen floor on two kitchen chairs, facing each other with their knees touching, with a Ouija board in their laps.  (And no, the eerie part is NOT that that was MY old Ouija board, lost and now found, lol).  “Oh, you’ve got to try this,” they cried, “it’s really hot tonight, we’ve never seen it so active!”

Ri-i-i-ight, I thought to myself, hoping my superior smirk didn’t show on my face.  Landon is moving it and Sylvia doesn’t know.  Boy, has he got her snookered.  In spite of my reluctance, they finally managed to convince me to ask it a question.  One they couldn’t possibly know the answer to.  So, I said, “What is my mother’s first name?”

Immediately the little table began going crazy swirling and looping all around the board, until it stopped abruptly, pointing to the letter H.  And that’s when I’m afraid my superior smirk started to show a little.  Because my mother’s first name began with E.  So, I was standing there feeling all smug and chanting in my mind, Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth, and the little table went berserk again and landed on the letter E.  Then it swirled around and pointed to the letter L.

And that’s when the hairs on the back of my neck rose to attention.  Because the only name my mother had ever gone by for her entire life was Elizabeth.  But, in actual fact, Elizabeth was her middle name.  My mother’s first name, a name she NEVER used, was Helen.  Which the damned Ouija board spelled out as clear as day.

So, there IS something out there, though just what, I’m not exactly sure.  But be afraid.  Be very afraid.

Julie

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