Tick, tick, tick, tick

The soft ticking of the clock echoed through the house in solemn protest of the insistent silence. A pale, thin boy sat on the cold concrete floor of the basement. It was here, cradled just beneath the earth's surface, that his knees pressed against the rough surface; his hands scraping against chalk outlines that he had carefully etched into the ground. Hands shifted, careful not to smudge the white powder that formed ancient symbols beneath his body. He could already see the powder forming on his jeans, tainting his work. Perhaps a change of wardrobe for the next session would be in order.

Dark brown eyes shifted back and forth from the flickering candles that sat perched upon five points of an inverted star. It was meant to represent grounded energy, but years of conflicting mythology made Ryou question its true meaning. His chest rose, his lungs filling slowly, deeply. He was almost afraid to let out the breath of air, lest he break the tension that was building in the room. The tension was built upon a crushing loneliness gutted him to the core. He was alone, so desperately alone. He felt bitter at the thought of his father abandoning him on another expedition. At first, he would comfort himself by writing letters to his late sister until his fingers would crack and bleed from the miniscule papercuts that always found a way to mar his pallid flesh. He wrote until he could no longer feel the pen in his hand. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Slowly, very slowly, he reached for the familiar board. It was lightweight, but felt heavy in his hands. It held all the meaning in the world to him. He took a moment to admire the intricate patterns etched into wood that had been worn down from years of use. Swirling patterns of branches, once vibrant in color, curled along the sides of the board in seemingly endless tendrils that captivated Ryou's gaze. His body felt as though it were an empty shell, moving, but with a will of its own. It was almost as though he was absent from his body, and could somehow watch the scene unfold before him. He was mystified. It hadn't even occurred to him that the board was now nestled toward the center of his pentagram. He lifted the glass planchette, peeking through the hole in the center. In his occult books, he had read that staring through the planchette could allow him to see through to the other side. The realm where spirits and otherworldly beings existed.

Tick, tick, tick, tick…

There was energy about the room, a feeling that Ryou thrived upon. The ticking from the clocked boomed in his hypersensitive ears, the only thing grounding him to reality. If it weren't for the sound, he felt like he would float away into the abyss. There was a part of him didn't believe. That part of him thought that he looked rather silly, kneeling in a dark, cold basement, looking through a child's toy. But he didn't care. Who was going to judge him, honestly? He was alone. If nothing else, it was a distraction to ebb away the intrusive thoughts of his meager mortality that plagued him when he was alone like this. And if it was real, then what did he really have to lose?

He stared at the center candle one last time, watching the flame dance back and forth. The flame was contained, but held power of both warmth and destruction. One simple flame could light his way, but just as quickly steal the light away from him. He always did like fire for that very reason. He himself felt like water, always adrift in a sea of disassociation. How badly he wanted to feel like fire. To harness that destructive, yet beautiful nature.

A sigh finally escaped his lips. How long had he been holding his breath? Was he even breathing? He was excited. This was taboo, it was thrilling. There was a hint of danger in the air. The validity of that danger was boundless, feeding off of his imagination. His fingers were shaking, as he guided the planchette to the board, circling the letters three times, to get a good motion started.

"Ouija, are you there?" he questioned, letting his fingers almost hover above the planchette. His touch was so delicate, he wondered if the piece would even move. He waited, there was no response.

"Ouija, are you there?" he repeated, his voice felt breathy. His throat was suddenly feeling rather dry. There was a tug beneath his fingertips. The planchette guided his hand slowly, but steadily, toward the yes that sat beneath a smiling sun etched into the board. A breathy staccato laugh escaped pale lips. He shifted his position, to better reach the board without applying too much pressure to the planchette. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before the boy spoke again. He went to speak, but his throat was suddenly wet and constricted. Ryou cleared his throat lightly, not wanting to disturb the energy of the room.

"Amane, are you there?" he asked, anxiously waiting for a reply. For a moment, he thought that the first movement had been a fluke, until he felt the familiar pull beneath his fingers once again. It circled firmly around the 'yes' symbol. A smile spread across his features like wildfire. He wanted to believe. He so desperately wanted to believe.

"How are you doing, Amane?" he asked, hoping that the question wasn't too complex. There was no pause this time, as the planchette danced along the board.

I

A…M… … L…O…S…T…

White eyebrows furrowed as the letters formed words, deciphering the spacing through small pauses. The planchette returned to the center of the board. The smile left his lips, as confusion began to grab ahold of his psyche. "Lost?" he repeated, trying to think of a way to respond to that statement. As he was lost in thought, the planchette twitched beneath his fingertips once more.

H…E…L…P… … M…E…

H…E…L…P… …M…E…

H…E…L…P… …M…E…

The phrase repeated three times. Each time, the planchette moved with a greater intensity, to the point where Ryou wasn't even sure if he was touching the glass or not. Then, the planchette began to swoop down from one side, and then the other. It took a moment for Ryou to notice, but it was repeating the infinity sign, and he had to use physical pressure to stop the planchette from moving.

"Please, stop!" he cried out, uncertain if the warnings he had read about the Ouija board had been true or not. "Amane, how can I help you?" His question was laden with apprehension. He was uncertain about the situation he was in. Was it just his imagination getting the best of him? Perhaps he really was that lonely. He was pried from his thoughts once more, as the glass pointer moved forcefully across the board.

R…E…L…E…A…S…E… …. …M…E…

The words were difficult to make out, due to the amount of letters that jumbled in the whitenette's mind. "Release me?" he questioned, and the planchette shot up to the yes symbol.

"Is this really Amane?" The pointer circled around yes three times, as if to reassure him that it was his sister who had long perished. The pointer then began to dance a figure eight on the board once again, and Ryou was having difficulty holding the planchette still. The room felt cold, colder than it had when he first set everything up. Despite the chill that seeped through the walls, a fresh sweat had broken out into beads of sweat that dotted Ryou's forehead. His hair felt damp, and his shirt was beginning to feel too clingy. But he felt alive. The thrill kept him going.

"Release you from where, Amane?" he wasn't sure if he was talking to his sister. But if he was, and he didn't help her, he would never forgive himself. He was always there to protect her when they were younger. But he wasn't able to protect her from death. Perhaps he could be her protector in death. The glass pointer began to move, with less intensity, as if to display sorrow.

S…H…A…D…O…W…S…

There was an eerie pause, and the room felt thick. The energy was suffocating, and the flames on the candles were dancing wildly, tossed around by an intangible wind. There was a sinking feeling in his gut that he couldn't seem to shake, but he ignored it and watched the planchette dance its figure eight once again. What would happen if he let it? He stayed quiet, watching the pointer move back and forth. Back, and forth. Then, the pointer decided to move to the bottom edge of the board where the numbers had been etched.

9…8…7…

Ryou watched, mesmerized. He didn't know what the board was doing. He didn't know if it was him that was willing the planchette, or if it was Amane, or another being from a realm not well understood.

6…5…4…

The countdown was making him feel giddy for some reason. Was it a hidden desire within him? Was it his imagination? Or was there a terrible evil that was trying to get him to allow it into his basement. He let out a staccato chuckle. It was a nervous laugh. A laugh that was on the brink of sanity.

3…2…1…

0

He felt the energy leave the planchette. It was as though a physical weight had disappeared beneath his fingers, which suddenly felt empty. He paused, waiting for the pointer to move again on its own, as it had done the entire night.

"Ouija, are you there?" he queried. He felt small all of the sudden, but lonely is not the word he would use. No. It felt as though there was someone with him. Was this what insanity's door felt like? His breath hitched in his throat, and he laughed again, to fill the silence. The clock had stopped ticking. Its sound no longer filled the room with its booming steadiness.

"Ouija, are you there?" his questioning felt useless. The magic was gone. The spell was broken. There was nothing left but a strange boy sitting in his basement with a makeshift summoning circle and a child's toy. He sighed, picking up the planchette, and leaning over to blow out the candles. It was late, he wasn't sure how long he had been down there, but he felt the sting of his eyelids when he blinked. He stood up, sharp jolts of pain running down his legs in protest for not stretching them out for such a long time. The boy stretched his arms above his head, letting out a loud yawn. His eyes darted around the room nervously, he was feeling superstitious.

He lifted the glass pointer to his eye, gazing though the hole as he turned around in the basement. It was comforting to him that he wasn't met with a demonic hell beast bent on destroying his very existence. "See, nothing to worry about," he consoled himself, walking around the basement with the planchette near his eye. For a moment, he thought he saw a shadow dart behind the stairs, but it was gone just as soon as his thoughts could question it. He shrugged it off and decided to go upstairs for the night. He shut the light off, without turning around, and locked the door to the basement behind him…just in case. Ghosts can't go through locked doors, right? That would be silly.

He sluggishly walked to his room, disrobing as soon as he hit the door, throwing the clothes that still retained his body heat into the hamper that nestled up against a dresser. He had broken out into a sweat down in the basement, and wanted to change clothes before he went to bed. He thought about taking a shower, but still felt uneasy about the situation. He decided that he would wait until morning, as if the sun would chase away all the things that scared him. As an added precaution, he decided to leave the light on, as he crawled into bed. His pajamas were baggy, but soft, and gave him an extra sense of comfort. The boy yawned once more, and clutched a tattered, off-white bear to his chest. It had been Amane's favorite toy when she was alive. If she was with him now, Ryou reasoned, this is how he could hug her. His head hit the pillow, and the room spun around him a bit. He hadn't recalled feeling so dizzy. He was still clutching the planchette in his right hand, and he raised the glass for one last peek before drifting off to dreamland. Bleary chocolate eyes briefly met with fiery crimson, but before he could even react fearfully, the world around him faded to black.

Yadounushi.