The Pumpkin Man

this is pretty cool. Looks like the real deal! Have you tried it?”

Kirstin shook her head. “Didn’t seem like a good idea. I mean . . . it’s a witch’s board, right? What if it really works?” She smirked, stifling a scoffing laugh.

“If it really worked, I’d talk to my father,” Jennica said quietly. “But you know better.”

Brian grinned. “Well, then, we should try it. If it does work, Jenn can have some closure.”

Kirstin frowned. “I don’t—”

“What can it hurt?” Nick interrupted. “I don’t think this shit really works, but why not try? I mean, c’mon. These boards are parlor games.”

“Jenn?” Kirstin asked, suddenly serious. “What do you think . . . ? Do you want to do this?”

Jennica imagined being able to tell her dad good-bye—if not to his face, then at least remotely, knowing he really could hear her. She wanted to give him a last hug and kiss, though she knew that could never be. She’d never really believed in hocus-pocus stuff, but Meredith sure had. Maybe there was something to it.

“It’s just bullshit,” she said. “So there’s no harm in trying.”

They set the board down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“I’ve got an idea,” Brian said, and he disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with the three-candle holder that they’d used as the centerpiece at dinner. He set it on an end table next to the couch and turned off the lamp. “It’s a better atmosphere this way.”

Nick reached out and turned off the other lamp. Everything now glowed with the reflection of the flames in the fireplace or from the three small candles.

“So, how does this work?” he asked, kneeling on the floor next to Jennica. Brian and Kirstin knelt on the other side of the table, the Ouija board between them.

“You do all know this is ridiculous?” Jenn said. “But based on every horror movie I’ve ever seen with seances and Ouija boards, and the little bit I read in one of these books the other day, basically we need to put our fingers on the planchette and focus our energies,” Jenn said. “I think it helps if you close your eyes and focus your mind on reaching out to the invisible. Try to blank out all the everyday thoughts and just be . . . open. The more you believe that there are spirits out there to talk to, the easier it is to reach them. That’s what they say, at least.”

Nick laughed. “We’re doomed.”

“Just try to empty your mind,” Jenn replied.

“Won’t be hard for Nick,” Brian offered.

“Fuck off.”

“Just put your hand—or actually, a couple fingers—on the wooden planchette,” Jenn repeated. “Then we reach out with our minds and ask questions. If it works, the spirits will use our joint energy to move the planchette around the board to answer us.”

“That, or we could have dessert,” Kirstin said.

“Scared?” Brian asked.

She shook her head but looked serious. Leaning over, she whispered something into his ear. The smile slipped from his face and he nodded.

“Let’s do this,” Nick said, taking Jenn’s hand. She pursed her lips and nodded, reaching out to take Brian’s hand, who in turn took Kirstin’s. They each put their index fingers on the wooden planchette.

“I don’t really know how to start,” Jenn whispered. Suddenly she felt a hint of fear at trying this, but it was too late to back out now.

“Just ask for your dad,” Kirstin suggested. “That’s what you want, right?”

Jenn nodded.

“Hello,” she called out. Her voice trembled. She felt foolishly formal as she added, “We are here to speak to my father, Richard Murphy. He passed through to the afterlife a few weeks ago. Please, any spirits who can hear me, tell him we would like to talk to him.”

Jenn felt cold as she spoke the words. It was one thing to say you’d like to talk to your dad’s ghost; it was another to stage a seance and call out to him in a room with candles and a Ouija board. She felt her skin crawl as if something were creeping up the back of her neck.

Nick gripped her hand tighter when her voice slowed and she stopped talking. His touch brought a smile to her face. He was giving her his strength.

“Dad,” she called out. “Are you here?”

The room went silent. Jenn opened her eyes for the first time since they’d begun and saw shadows writhing on the walls like spirits in anguish. She saw the slits of Brian’s eyes glimmering with the reflected fire. Kirstin still held hers shut.

Jenn realized she held her breath. They probably all did.

“Richard Murphy?” she called. “Dad, are you here?”

An ember popped in the fireplace, and Jenn could feel everyone jump.

“Spirits, if you can hear me, please answer,” she called. She was starting to feel silly. Just because her aunt had been into all this stuff didn’t mean—

She felt the wood beneath her fingers move. The other three opened their eyes to stare at their fingers as well. The wooden hoop slipped in a halting glide across the board until it came to encircle one word: NO.

“Is my father here?” she repeated.

Nothing happened for a second, and Jenn began to wonder if the first answer had been a fluke—or if, more likely, one of her friends had been trying to “help.” But the planchette moved again, this time to the opposite side of the board.

YES.

“Can you . . . ?” Jenn began to say, but the planchette began to move again, and she stopped to read.

The hoop stopped on the G before moving to E and then T. And then it moved with growing speed to spell the rest of a phrase:

GET OUT NOW

“Okay, who’s doing this shit?” Kirstin said through gritted teeth. “Because it’s not funny. Brian?”

“I’m not doing anyth—”

The planchette moved again. As Jenn watched, it zoomed across the board and she read the two words aloud:

“‘Too late’?”

The planchette suddenly shot across the board. Jenn felt her fingers lose touch with it just before it launched into space. The wooden hoop hit the side of the fireplace and clattered to the floor.

Kirstin stood up, angry. “All right,” she demanded. “Which of you did that?”

Brian laughed. “Oh, come on. What are you trying to pull? You’re saying we did it? I mean, if you wanted us to be the big strong men to hold you and protect you from the nasty spirits, there are easier ways to do that. We could have just watched a horror movie.”

Kirstin bristled. “You know you moved the stupid thing and made it say those words, didn’t you? Just admit it.”

“Oh, I get it,” Brian said. “I pushed the planchette and made it say ‘Get out now’ so that you girls would be scared and cling to us like we were in a horror movie. Okay, what if I did? Is that so wrong?”

“You bastard,” Kirstin growled. “Jenn is in a bad place right now. Her father just died—no, let me rephrase that. He didn’t DIE, he was frickin’ murdered. And she was hoping that this would let her say good-bye. Now, one of you has turned it into a stupid—”

Jenn felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she pushed back from the table. Stepping over to the couch, she couldn’t help herself from curling up on it.

“Whoa!” Nick held up a hand. “I think you’re overreacting a little. Brian’s kidding. He didn’t do anything. I mean—”

“Get out,” Kirstin said. She pointed to the door. “Both of you just leave. Please.”

Brian looked stunned. “Really? I was just kidding. I really didn’t do anything.”

Nick turned to Jenn. “You have to believe that I didn’t do anything to that board. That thing moved all by itself.”

Jenn didn’t answer. Kirstin’s finger still motioned for them to go.