It had been a few weeks since Jack and Hillary moved into the supposedly haunted "Murderhouse" of L.A. Mostly drawn to the low price, they rented almost immediately and were able to settle in easily. So far, no hauntings of the sort. However, when Jack came home with a Ouija board they picked up from a garage sale and suggested the two use it, Hillary wanted no part of it.
"Are you crazy? It's a haunted house and you want to use that thing?" She snapped.
"Okay, first off, we haven't had one spooky thing happen to us. Do you think a dumb Ouija board is gonna change that?"
"Uh, yeah? Ouija boards are fucked up man."
"Hey man, don't talk shit about Ouija boards. They're cool!" They said. A gust of wind suddenly blew through the house, chilling the two, despite being in southern California.
"See! Look at that! There's wind in here and all the windows are shut." Hillary pronounced. Jack then realized what they had to do. They pulled out their best pouty face and lip quibble they could manage.
"I-I guess I'll j-just... Throw it away then..." They said, dragging their feet over to the kitchen garbage. Hillary watched as they opened the trashcan, about to dump the board, when she spoke out.
"Stop!" Jack turned around. "We can use it. But just once, okay? And if we get an evil spirit we stop immediately, alright?" They smiled widely, nodding, and rushed around the kitchen, pulling out candles from cabinets and a set of matches. They lit all the candles, turned off the lights, and set up the board on the counter. In a few moments, the creepy mood was set and the two were ready to use the spirit connector. They placed their hands on the planchette. Jack took an anxious breath.
"Man, I can't believe we're doing this! This is so exciting." They practically quivered in anticipation.
"I can't believe it either." Hillary murmured.
"I guess just don't be an ass to the spirit or anything."
"I'm not gonna be an ass. Are you gonna be an ass?"
"Hell no I'm not gonna be an ass. What kind of question is that?"
"Why the hell did you ask me then?"
"Because what if you're gonna be an ass to the spirit?"
"I'm not gonna be an ass!"
"I don't know if I can trust you."
"Oh my GOD JACK-" She was about to launch into a rant when suddenly the planchette moved. They both screamed, but kept their hands on the device. It scooted over to "S", then shifted to "H" and hovered there for a while. They stared at the board in silence.
"I think it's telling us to be quiet." Jack breathed. The planchette moved around the board again as Hillary read out the letters.
"G-O-O-D J-O-B G-E-N-I-U-S. Shit, it's sassy!" She laughed while they scowled at her.
"Ugh. Whatever. Ask it a question or something."
"Ha, you're mad because it likes me." The object moved about the board again. This time, Jack read it.
"E-H. Ha! The ghost thinks you're 'eh'!" They blurted. Hillary grabbed the planchette away from Jack and took full control of the board.
"Who do you think you are, trash bag?!" She shouted. The planchette moved with such speed that the two had trouble picking up a few of the letters.
"T-A-T L-A-N-O-N?" Jack questioned. "Is that your name? Tat Lanon?" They giggled. "That's kind of a stupid name." The planchette lifted off the board and hit them in the face. "Agh, fuck!" They shouted. The object went back to the board and got in a ready position. The two put their hands back on the planchette. This time, it moved slowly enough for the friends to get all the letters.
"Oh! Tate Langdon!" Hillary exclaimed.
"He sounds nice."
"Bruh," She started. "Google him."
"Good idea." Jack pulled out their phone, googling Tate.
"Shit. He's hot." They showed her a picture.
"DAMN. We gotta keep using this thing!"
"Wait... Wikipedia says he shot fifteen people. Oh my god dude. It's the Tate Langdon. He was a school shooter! This guy's a psycho."
"Bruh. Just- Just stick to the images." Jack went back to the images tab.
"Fuck."
"Exactly."
"God damn it, Hillary. That is one solid point." They sat back down, putting their hands back on the planchette.
"You wanna ask a question this time?" She asked.
"Yeah, okay. Alright Tate, are you a good spirit or a bad one?" The planchette moved along the board while the two read out the letters in an almost trance.
"D-O Y-O-U G-O-T A-N-Y K-U-R-T C-O-B-A-I-N." Hillary said. "What?"
"You didn't answer the question, dude." Jack told the board. Suddenly, the planchette moved across the number section of the board and began counting down. They both screamed.
"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!" Hillary shouted, clutching Jack. Even without their hands on it, the planchette continued to move on it's own.
"I DON'T KNOW." Screamed Jack back, latching on to Hillary. The board counted down to zero, the two continuing to yell in absolute terror. The candles blew out, and the house was plunged into darkness. They stopped screaming, but breathed heavily in anticipation, fearing for what was about to happen. Suddenly, the kitchen lights clicked on. They turned to the light switch next to the open doorway, when there, in the threshold stood a teenager. A mop of blonde hair was atop his head, shaggily outlining his face. He wore a dark, striped sweater, baggy jeans, and converse jeans. If the two hadn't just experienced the most frightening paranormal episode of their lives, they might've stopped to consider how cute he looked.
"'Sup?" He asked. Hillary and Jack were still holding each other in terror.
"'Sup?" They said back in unison.
"You didn't answer my question."
"You didn't answer our question." Jack posed.
"Whatever, man! Do you got any Kurt Cobain!" He said back, a grin blossoming on his face. Shit. Shit, he was cute. His messy hair contoured his baby-like face. His dark brown eyes reflected off the light of the kitchen, and his cheeks, a soft rose color, completed his almost angelic look.
"What a babe." Whispered Hillary. Jack nodded in agreement, and the two unclasped from each other, ruffling their hair and smoothing out their clothes.
"S-So, are you-" Jack began.
"Tate Langdon! But I'm not a psycho. You kinda hurt my feelings when you said that." He responded, turning down to the ground and pouting. Hillary immediately rushed over and held Tate, having to stand on her tip-toes to pet his head. Jack couldn't help but smirk a bit at how short their friend looked compared to the tall teenager. However, they quickly had a change of heart.
"What the hell, dude." They stated.
"You were mean to Tate and he's a CHILD." She replied.
"He's older than me by like- Tate, what year did you die?"
"I... I'm not dead!" He pronounced.
"He's a lost soul! Poor baby-boo."
"He died in, like, 1996. That's what Wikipedia says, anyway. He's thirty four years old, man! He's not a child!"
"Liiiiiiiieeeeeeeeesssssssssss." Hillary hissed. She held Tate closer while he stuck his tongue out at Jack.
"Look! Look he's sticking his tongue out at me!" He retracted his tongue back into his mouth and sniffled, threatening to cry.
"Jack, you're terrible." Hillary gasped. She led Tate away from the kitchen. From the hall, Jack thought they could hear him ask if she wanted to hook up, then running up stairs, and a door slamming shut.
Hillary was right. The Ouija board was not a good idea.