The Spirit Of The Glass

by RiBow.

The group of drunken teenagers sat in a circle around a spirit board: an Ouija Board, to contact the spirits of the dead. If not for the tiny amount of light coming from several candles around the room; the room would’ve been pitch black. None of the teenagers really believed that the Ouija board could contact spirits but it was just for fun. Nothing would happen, they knew nothing would.

Amanda sat intently, looking at each of the group members faces, wondering what would happen next. Her heart beating so fast, she couldn’t breathe. Everything, everyone, was so silent that she could actually hear her heart beating. Amanda’s eyes darted to the door behind her. It was shut tight, she would do anything to get out; if she tried, she could’ve. But her curiosity got the better of her, she stayed.

One of the drunken, brawn-but-no-brain teenagers suddenly stood, drawing attention to him. It took one glance to know he was the group ‘Leader’.

“All o’ yous better get out if yous are scared,” the boy spat, glaring at each and every one of them in the eyes.

No one moved; they were more scared of the overgrown teenager than the spirits of the dead, which of course they didn’t even believe in. Though there was this eerie feeling, a sudden chill up their spine; no normal person with a mind could have ignored that. Their conscience had left though, right when they decided to play with the board, but one thing is for sure; nothing would be done to stop them.

“Scout, hurry up an’ start,” the Leader bellowed, threatening a small boy in the corner with a clenched fist.

Scott got his nickname, ‘Scout’ because of his large brown eyes; everyone always said that he saw everything, always ‘scouting’ everything out.

“E-everyone, p-put your hands lightly o-on the glass and don’t force it to mo-move, close your eyes and co-concentrate,” ‘Scout’ stuttered, feeling uneasy, but also doing what he told everyone to do.

The whole group followed his actions, but with more ease. They were drunk after all, they were under aged, and they were stupid.

“W-what do you want to know?” Scout asked, feeling just a tad more confident now that everyone had actually done what he had told them to do. It was something that didn’t happen very often.

“I want ta know when I’ll die,” ‘Leader’ said, smirking at the glass his hand was on.

“Sorry, the glass can’t tell you that,” Scout shivered, as if scared that his answer wouldn’t please the godly figure in front of him.

It didn't please him, not one bit.

“Then this is a waste o’ ma time,” Leader bellowed. With one swift move he grabbed the glass, slammed it down hard on the ground, and then spat on it like it was of no value.

Scout’s eyes began to widen, he was scared and his face showed it. He was so pale; he could’ve been a ghost himself.

“What have you done? You idiot,” Scout shouted. “The spirit... it has finally escaped.”

Scout tried to run but some kind of force had stopped him. He was being lifted from the ground in front of the whole group and nothing was being done to stop it. They all stared in astonishment, gaping at the scene in front of them, the Leader being the most shocked.

Amanda couldn’t scream; something was in her throat that kept her from making any sound. Her head began spinning. She couldn’t take it. She wanted to leave.

Scout began shaking vehemently, a bit of blood dripped down from his mouth as his eyes rolled back behind his head. His body was being cut open from his throat; his ribs separating out two ways. Then his arm began to move, it reached into his chest and...

A gust of wind blew the candles out. Everything was as dark as night. But it wasn’t silent, everyone had heard it; that gaping sound. That faint cry for help. Amanda covered her mouth with both hands, she couldn’t find her voice.

A cracking sound. A shrill scream. The candles magically lit up again. In front of everyone were a dismembered Scout; bones and flesh everywhere. His red blood pouring down on them like any regular rain. A girl began to scream and cry for help, she was the only one in the room who could find their voice. Another gust of wind, the candles were out again. The girl whispered one final time. "Help me."

Then the loud drumming sound of a heart beat.

Amanda screamed loudly; finally finding her voice. The girl beside her jumped in shock, spilling her drink and popcorn on the people beside her. Some people mumbled incoherent words. Amanda stood in shame, running out of the movie theatre as quickly as her shaking legs could go. Then whispered:

“Stupid horror movies...”

[A/N]: I wrote this story for my English class sometime this year. I felt like writing a horror while keeping it kind of not horror, so that's how I got the idea for the ending. I hope you like it.