c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(6-26)
Note to Readers: This account is skewed a bit from literal facts. Do not be alarmed.
Mercy Goodrich-Tait fiddled with incense holders that were smoldering around the perimeter of her octagon table, before turning to the Ouija board. But I was still lost in a fog of detachment. She had not explained the goldfish bowl full of wine, or macaroni floaters that swam inside. So, I was not quite ready to proceed with a new ritual.
“Ma’am, you never gave me a reading from the first part of this experiment. What was the point of dipping dried pasta into the juice of squeezed-out grapes?”
My host widened her eyes with a sense of having been insulted.
“Did you not hear my words, neighbor? When you believe then all will be revealed. This was not an experiment. It was a revelation, if you will accept it!”
I took a deep breath while looking sideways, to clear my lungs from traces of the pungent smoke.
“Believe? What, like in the Wizard of Oz or some other fairy tale? That’s what I have to accept?”
My benefactor slammed her gnarled hands on the table.
“I DID NOT INVITE YOU HERE TO BE INSULTED! UNDERSTAND THAT THESE GIFTS ARE GIVEN IN A SPIRIT OF KINDNESS! IF YOU ARE WILLING TO LEARN, I AM WILLING TO TEACH! OTHERWISE, YOU HAVE BANISHED YOURSELF TO IGNORANCE AND DARKNESS!”
My face turned numb, and pale. Nothing she said made any sense.
“The goldfish bowl... was that like a crystal ball? Were you peering into the void with that trick?”
Again, Ms. Goodrich-Tait raised her voice to a shriek of frustration.
“CRYSTAL BALL? DO YOU THINK THIS IS LIKE A DISNEY MOVIE, NEIGHBOR? I WON’T SIT HERE AND BE MOCKED! I HAVE OFFERED YOU ENLIGHTENMENT. DO NOT MISTAKE MY CHARITY FOR FOOLISHNESS!”
My skin crackled with a jolt of static electricity. I needed to find another way to express being out-of-sync.
“Okay, okay, I apologize. My intention was to gain knowledge here, nothing else.”
The mystic seer smiled and softened her tone.
“You have been having strange dreams as of late, am I correct? Detailed and vivid, but not founded on any real experiences? That is what the wine and pasta told me...”
I was somewhat surprised by her insight, But, nodded with acknowledgement.
“Yeah, that’s on target. I can’t explain these visions, but last night was a perfect example. I visited a store of some kind, went in the back room and spoke with vendors who were bringing in product. There was a little break area off the main section, with four chairs, all of the kind you would expect to find in somebody’s living room. I kept exploring and discovered a hallway, and then a prep cubicle, long and rectangular. It appeared to be a butcher shop. There were cuts of waste fat everywhere, in the sinks and on metal countertops. A few chops and steaks left out in the open. Everything was refrigerated, I felt cold while looking around. But it rattled my nerves. Eventually, I went back to the main receiving terminal, and three older fellows were seated in the comfy chairs. I guessed that the fourth was left open for me, possibly. But instead of sitting, I interacted with more of the visiting suppliers. One saw a stack of trade magazines that I wanted, but intervened to grab them first. I let him take that prize because he seemed to be so intent on winning.”
Ms. Goodrich-Tait was pleased with my honesty.
“And none of this was familiar to you?”
I signified my befuddlement.
“None of it. I woke up in the night and sat on the edge of my mattress, pondering.”
The wise crone sighed loudly before giving her assessment of what had transpired.
“You were experiencing a visitation, Rodney. The dream images were not yours, but belonged to someone else who long ago passed across the divide between here and eternity. They are on the other side of that veil. But reached out as you were slumbering. Does that make any sense?”
I chilled a bit while thinking.
“No, it doesn’t quite honestly...”
She turned back to the Ouija board, and then reached for my hands.
“We must join our minds when using this spiritual appliance. Concentrate with me on our work. We want to contact the deceased individual who was in touch with you, overnight. Let your consciousness be open to connect. And follow me as I offer my petition.”
I felt woozy while looking upon the board. But focused all my energy on its cryptic lettering.
“Okay, I’ll do it for you...”
The gray-headed woman lifted her hands while still clasping my own. Then began to chant rhythmically, with a melodic timbre to her voice.
“You who have come before us, make yourself known! What purpose do you hold in this quest? We ask that you communicate in a form we can recognize. Are you with us at this moment?”
She guided our hands to the planchette, which moved accordingly. It stopped in place over the word ‘yes.’
My stomach gurgled loudly. I was afraid of losing gastronomic control.
“I can feel something... it is like having butterflies in my gut.”
Ms. Goodrich-Tait rattled her jewelry while continuing the chant.
“By what name are you called? We ask you to come before us now. Let us see your form and witness your cry to be heard!”
The room crackled with energy, and a glow of blue-white surrounded the table.
“I am a cutter of meats, by profession. I lived at the lot where your subject now resides, and labored on the hill, at an IGA store that closed. He has taken my place. I do not want to surrender that spot so easily. But the flesh has failed me, and I was forced to leave before my time! I still have so much work to do!”
My hands were trembling. I could barely see anything expect for the flickering of a candle next to the Ouija board.
“Replace you? Hell no, I haven’t replaced anybody!”
The wise, old woman cackled to herself before moving the planchette again.
“What name is yours, dear friend? Would anyone remember you in this park? Or in this township? Even in this county?”
The marker spelled out a series of letters that were disjointed and incomprehensible, at first.
“J-o-r-d-a-n... P-s-e-n-k-a. J-o-r-d-a-n, J-o-r-d-a-n...”
The senior seeker threw back her head and shrieked with abandon.
“YOU HAVE BEEN DEAD A HUNDRED YEARS! THIS PROPERTY WAS UNINHABITED IN THAT TIME! HOW DO YOU CLAIM ANY BOND TO THE MAN SITTING HERE WITH ME? YOU ARE SPEAKING IN RIDDLES WHEN WE WANT ONLY THE TRUTH!”
A rush of wind felled the burning candle. It upset decorative flowers that were in vases around the room. And rustled curtains in the windows. Finally, it morphed into a howl of male intensity.
“I AM THE ORIGINATOR! THIS LAND REMAINS MY BIRTHRIGHT! THE STORE I RECALL WAS BUILT WHERE MY OWN ONCE STOOD! IT WAS STOLEN BY CLEVER VANDALS WHO SETTLED HERE! AND LATER, OCCUPIED BY TRANSGRESSORS WHO MOVED TO THIS PARCEL OF GROUND AS INVADERS! IN THEIR MINDS, I HAVE PLANTED SEEDS OF TORMENT! THEY WILL NOT REST UNTIL I HAVE BEEN SATISFIED! MY JUSTICE WILL BE THEIR SENTENCE OF DESPAIR!”
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