This one is quite a bit longer than the others, because it is the last part of the Séance Series! I'm glad I finally finished it. I hope you like the ending.
-
end [end] –noun
-termination of existence; death
I watched the blood trickle slowly down my arm. Remaining motionless for a few seconds more, while the rest of us were moving out of Sam’s bedroom and into the kitchen, I examined my nasty cut. One of the shards from the shattered door had sliced open my arm. It wasn’t anything too deep—and I knew what deep was; my mother was a doctor—but it stung like daggers digging into my flesh.
“Brianne!” Jen cried from the doorway. I looked up, moving my blonde hair from my eyes. I shuddered and stood up. My knees wobbled as I hurried to the bedroom door. I tried to step over the blood-soaked carpet, but I couldn’t. My shoes squished through the blood, and a drop or two spattered onto my legs.
Blood. Everywhere. It wasn’t just in the bedroom, either, I noticed as I stepped out into the hallway. It was on the walls. The ceiling. The paintings that furnished the walls. I grimaced as I walked through into the kitchen, where everyone else was huddled.
“Where’re the matches, Sam?” Richard asked, his voice tense with worry.
“My—my mom keeps them h-h-hidden in the cupboard. My little brother g-gets into th-them and—” Sam stuttered. Jen was standing next to him, and she put her arm around his torso.
“It’s going to be alright. We’ll burn the board and get everything over with. Sam, look at me. Look at me! It’s going to be alright.”
“N-no it w-w-won’t!” Sam spoke, raising his voice. “D-did you hear that man? He’ll c-c-come back! I know it. He’s p-probably watching u-us right now.” We all turned out heads to the only window in the kitchen. It was black outside. Dark, stormy clouds blocked all moonlight.
“Once we burn this board,” I asked quietly, “everything will go away? That man—that creature—won’t come back?”
“That’s what we think,” Jen replied, her soft eyes moistening up. “Where’s Steven?”
I hadn’t seen him since I’d left the room. Turning around, I walked back into the bedroom, knees still pounding together.
Thunder roared outside.
The bloody halls and carpet made my stomach churn. I stopped walking. My eyes widened. Was that Steven’s voice I heard coming from the bedroom?
I stopped just before the doorway. I could hear Steven muttered some words quietly to himself. Edging myself forward, I glanced into the room and saw him on his knees, his hands clasped together.
“God, please forgive me. Don’t let him kill me. Please. Please, oh Lord, please. I’m sorry for
everything I’ve done. Just don’t let him find me.”
Thunder crackled.
“Oh Lord please save me even if the others get killed save me save me save me don’t let him find me you can protect me oh Lord don’t let him kill me!”
“Steven,” I whispered as I stepped into the room. Blood squished again under my feet. Steven yelped in surprise, and something behind him caught my eye. Beyond the blood-drenched window was a face. Terror struck me, and I froze in my place.
It was the spirit that had just appeared to us a few minutes earlier. His evil eyes glared into mine, and I shrieked. Steven spun around, and his breath was caught in his throat. The figure approached the window, and then lightning filled the sky.
I took a step back—squish, squish—and looked for something (anything) to use to defend myself. I took my eyes off of the window for a moment to look for a weapon.
“Roger?” Steven cried. I glanced back up at the window, and my heart stopped. Roger was standing just outside of the window. His face was deathly pale, and his hair was torn and shredded. Dried blood was etched across his face. He wasn’t wearing his glasses.
Roger began pounding on the window, making the glass tremble and shake as thunder crackled. Steven rose from his knees and opened the window hastily.
“He’s coming!” Roger roared and pointed behind him. “Let me in! Let me in, now! Hurry!”
“Brianne!” Steven cried from across the room. “Help me!” I ran to the window, blood still dripping from the ceiling, and grabbed one of Roger’s outstretched arms.
“Pull!” Steven yelled, and we both pulled. Roger was built light, so it was easy to pull him through the window.
“Shut the window!” Roger cried. “Now! Before he gets in!”
Steven slammed the window shut. The glass, on impact, shattered, sending sharp fragments of glass everywhere. Luckily, I was able to avoid them, but Steven and Roger weren’t so lucky. They both screamed as the glass pierced their skin. Horrified, I did my best to pull them out of their flesh. I’d long ago lost all sense of emotion. Normally, this task would’ve killed me to do. But not tonight.
After as many glass shards had been picked out of their flesh as I could pull out, we ran out of Sam’s bedroom and into the kitchen, where Richard was holding a lit match up to the board.
“No!” Roger cried, flinging himself at Richard. “Don’t burn the board! Don’t burn it!”
“Roger?” Jen asked, her eyes wide.
“Roger, where’d you come from? We thought you were d-d-dead!” Sam questioned.
“I know. Just listen to me. Richard, do not burn the board! These spirits took me. I know what they’re trying to do!” Roger exclaimed, taking the box of matches from Richard’s hands.
“What’re you talking about? Lillian told us—”
“That wasn’t Lillian. That was the spirit that’s been hunting all of us.”
That word sent chills running up and down my spine. Hunting.
“Lillian didn’t hang herself. The dark angel did. It uses our minds against us. It can control us. That’s what it’s been doing. All of the séances that we’ve been performing? They weren’t just fun and games. This thing has been using our minds to destroy us.”
“What’re you talking about, Roger?” I asked.
“Listen. I know what’s going on. You have to trust me!”
“Trust you?” Steven asked boldly. “Now why should we trust you? How do we know you aren’t this dark angel itself?”
“You just have to trust me. Please. I know what I’m doing!” Roger exclaimed, taking the board in his arms, with some resistance from Richard.
“This dark angel has been trying to release demons and spirits into the world. It found us that night we first preformed the séance. And from then on it’s been using us. Those cuts and scars we got the night after the séance? That’s its way of marking us, so it can continue using us. None of us in our right minds would continue doing séances after that night, right? It possessed us the entire time. Lillian was the only one of us that could resist it. That was why it killed her. After she was dead, Lillian came to me and told me what was going on. She wanted to warn us, guys. You have to believe me! This angel is going to kill us.”
I shook again, and peered behind me into the dark hallway. There could be anything lurking in the darkness.
“Then why,” Jen asked, “can’t we burn the board? Lillian told us that we would get rid of this angel if we burned it.”
“Yes. We would get rid of it. But then this angel will go onto another Ouija board and hunt the users of that one. Once they figure out the secret, he will keep moving on. Yes, we can get it out of our lives, but we can’t get rid of it forever.”
There was a silence in the room. It was almost as if we could all hear each other’s heartbeats. Mine was thumping rapidly. I could feel something on the back of my neck, breathing hot air. I wanted it to go away, but it’d been there since I’d entered the kitchen.
“Then what are you saying we should do?” Steven asked. “Kill the angel?”
“How?” I asked. “It’s already dead.”
“M-m-my dad has a gun in his underwear drawer. You think that it could kill him?” Sam said, breathing heavily, trying to calm his nerves.
We all looked at each other.
“I don’t see why we couldn’t try it. I mean, we don’t have very many weapons to fight this thing with.”
“Knives,” Steven replied, and opened up one of the drawers. There were gleaming knives in it, and he took one out. It was a butcher knife. Silently, a drop of blood from the ceiling fell and splattered on the tip of the knife. Steven’s eyes widened for a second, and we all looked up.
The ceiling, which had originally been white, was now black, with red lines that almost looked like veins running about. Blood dripped down from the veins, and I shuddered again.
“I’ll go get the g-gun,” Sam stuttered, and ran into the bloody hallway. I could hear his feet squishing and sliding. I heard him open a door and saw a light flicker on from his parents’ bedroom. There was a fumbling sound, the light turned off, and Sam ran back into the kitchen, the gun in his hands.
“I d-don’t know how to use it,” he muttered, holding it out for everyone to see. It was a small, black pistol. I didn’t know any kind of gun very well, so I was completely dubious as to what it really was.
“I do,” Richard spoke. “My dad taught me how to use one. Here, let me see it.” Sam handed Richard the loaded gun.
“There’s a lock switch on here somewhere—ah! Found it.” Richard turned the lock off and held it in his hands.
“What now?” Jen asked, shivering.
“I think we need to use this,” Roger muttered, holding the Ouija board up, “to call the angel back to us. Then we might be able to kill him. We have matches too. Maybe we can burn him?”
“I really doubt if any of this is going to work,” I whispered. No one heard me.
“Wait, hold the ph-phone!” Sam cried, looking at Roger. “I thought you said whenever we use the board, we’re being possessed!”
“We are. But now we’re using the board to get rid of it. This is the last time we’ll ever use this board. I swear,” Roger concluded. “Okay, now, before any of us get anymore spooked, let’s get to work. We all need to participate in this last séance. And then when the angel comes—”
“If it comes,” Richard interrupted.
“When it comes,” Roger said, “Richard will fire a couple bullets at it. We’ll see if it does anything. Steven, you need to throw as many knives as you can at it. I’d aim for the heart, if it has one. And Jen, I want you to go into the garage and get some gasoline. You will be our last defense. Pour some gas into the hall and on the floor. Once Richard and Steven have both attempted to kill it, you have to light a match and throw it into the oil. Maybe that’s the only way we can kill it. And if that doesn’t work…” his voice trailed off.
“Let’s just hope that it will work,” I muttered.
Roger nodded. “Right. Now, let’s start this séance.”
*
“We know you’re in here,” Roger muttered, closing his eyes and placing his finger on the planchette. He and Jen both had their fingers on the little marker. Everyone else sat around the board, holding hands.
“If you want us,” Roger whispered, his voice quavering, “then show yourself.”
The room was getting chilly. The occasional blood drop fell from the ceiling and landed in my hair. I grimaced every time it happened.
Thunder.
“One Mississippi—” Jen whispered under her breath, but was interrupted by lightning. I opened my left eye and looked at Jen. Her face was pale, because she realized that some unseen angel was controlling this storm.
“Come on, you moron!” Roger suddenly yelled. Jen squeaked.
“Roger, don’t provoke it!” Jen whispered.
I was holding hands with Steven and Richard; I couldn’t quite tell who was shaking the most.
Floorboards creaked behind me. The hairs on my neck erected as I opened my eyes.
“Show yourself!” Roger screamed.
Before anyone could utter another word, there came a horrible snap across my back, which stung like I had never felt before. I screamed and ripped my hands away from Steven and Richard. Apparently, they had felt the same thing. The fiery burn pained my body, and I felt the tears swell up.
“There it is!”
The words chilled my bones, and I painfully cocked my head so I could see behind me.
The hooded figure stood behind me, about five feet away. I turned myself around, my eyes wide with fear. Everyone else remained motionless. The shock of seeing its evil eye made the pain on my back feel tiny. Its pale face was like a tiny canvas that was stretched across a large skull. Its eyes were deep and sunken. Its tongue slithered out between its few rotten teeth.
“R-Richard!” Sam stuttered. Richard took a moment to compose himself, and held out the gun. He pointed it at the angel and took a quick breath. He pulled the trigger.
There was a loud bang that I never forgot in years to come. The noise echoed off the walls and reverberated through our ears.
The angel didn’t flinch, even though there was a bullet hole through its right thigh. Richard shot again: this time, the bullet struck through his hip. Still, the angel didn’t move.
“Steven! Go!” Jen cried, lighting a match with trembling fingers.
The angel took a step forward. Its bare feet splashed in the oil that Jen had spilled over the wooden kitchen floor.
Steven chucked a knife through the air—it missed the angel completely. He grunted and threw another one. This time, it impaled the angel in the cheek. The knife stuck out at an odd end as the angel warily raised its arm and slid the knife out of its cheek. I gasped. The angel dropped the knife onto the floor, where it clattered.
“Jen!” Roger cried, and Jen threw the match into the gas on the floor. Instantly, everything was engulfed in flames. I screamed and stood up, trying to get away from the intense heat. The fire blocked all view of the angel. There were a few moments of intensity—
The angel stepped through the flames like they hadn’t existed. Its black robes weren’t scorched; its skin was clear and pale as ever.
I heard Steven swear at the top of his lungs, and then I did the only thing I could think of. I lunged down and grabbed the Ouija board. It felt slippery in my sweaty hands.
“Brianne, no!” Roger cried. He tried to pry it out of my hands, but I pushed him away.
“It’s either this or die!” I cried, and flung the Ouija board into the flames. I watched it as the planchette fell into the hungry fire. Black smoke filled the room.
The dark angel stood and watched the fire for a few moments. Then he turned and looked at all of us—six teenagers who knew we only had a few more minutes to live.
It raised its arms and held them in the air for a while. I was scared. I didn’t know what he was trying to tell us.
Suddenly, he lowered his arms, and the fire behind him spread in our direction, as if by some unseen force. I screamed once more, and watched the living room catch on fire. The sofas, the pictures, the TV. My friends.
I quickly caught sight of Steven once more. He tried to avoid the flames, but they swept him up in a large fireball. I couldn’t even scream for someone to help him before the flames had swallowed him up.
“Brianne! Come through the window!” Jen cried from the other side of the room. I swiveled around and ran for the only exit—when fire suddenly crawled up behind me. I screeched and glanced behind me. I could see Roger, lying face down in the flames. His back was scorched, and his flesh was burning. I couldn’t see Richard. He must’ve escaped out the window with Jen.
The fire caught onto my pant leg, and I tried to shake it off, but to no prevail. It swallowed my leg like a hungry predator. I screamed and cursed and cried, but nothing worked anymore. I tripped over something on the floor and fell on my face. The fire swept up through my clothes, and I couldn’t breathe. The pain. Oh, the pain was tremendous. No one could ever comprehend the amount of pain that I felt in that short time period. I could smell my hair burning. I could see Roger’s face melting off his skull. I could taste burning flesh in my mouth.
I saw the dark angel grinning right before the fire swallowed me whole.
