Six Past Midnight
Sunday nights at the Howser’s were always a hoot. There were classic TV shows waiting to be laughed at, drinking experiments with more shots any normal human could handle, impromptu karaoke sessions played off a slightly detuned piano… and when everything else failed, Janine always whipped out the old Ouija board to scare her long-time boyfriend right out of his pants.
“Not again!” Brian sighed.
“Oh yes!” she played him like a fiddle. “Don’t you want to know what old Melody has been doing since the last time we checked up on her?”
“Hmmm… no.”
‘Melody’ was the pet name given by her to an alleged fifteen-year-old girl that had lived there in the late 60s. No one knew how she died and whenever she was contacted, she always had a new version of the story to tell. Janine loved the ‘unexpected scorching fire’ variant. He was better off believing she was telekinetic.
‘Melody’ always appeared at six past midnight on the last Sunday of each month, no sooner, no later. She had no voice except for the board itself. Seances were conducted in the simplest way possible by merely asking “Are you there?”. She always replied the first time.
O-F-C-O-U-R-S-E-I-A-M-H-E-R-E.
“Hey, Mels. So pleased you’re around. Can you tell us again how you died? I forgot…” Janine held her Vodka glass up high.
C-A-R. D-R-U-N-K-D-R-I-V-E-R. C-R-A-S-H-E-D-T-H-R-O-U-G-H-T-H-E-R-O-O-M-Y-O-U-N-O-W-S-I-T-I-N.
“That’s new, right?” the drunk girlfriend queried. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t care either. ‘Melody’ never talked for more than ten minutes straight. He couldn’t wait for her time to be up.
“Your turn to ask her something,” Janine insisted.
“Not in the mood, sorry.” He brushed her off.
“Indulge me or I swear to God I’ll have another bottle. E.R. or the ghost? What is your choice?”
Was there any doubt? He had almost lost her twice due to alcoholic comas. He would never risk a third no matter how uncomfortable talking to a denizen from beyond the grave was.
“Okay. ‘Melody’, why are your stories always different?”
D-O-N-T-Y-O-U-K-N-O-W?
“If I did, I wouldn’t be asking, would I?” The wall clock was now closing in on eleven past midnight. It was going quicker this time. Thank goodness for that!
O-K-A-Y-I-W-I-L-L-T-E-L-L-Y-O-U. P-L-E-A-S-E-T-H-A-N-K-M-E-F-O-R-T-H-A-T.
“Thank you, ‘Melody’, you’re amazing,” he faked his satisfaction only to get a pat on the back.
I-T-I-S-B-E-C-A-U-S-E-Y-O-U-R-S-T-A-T-E-S-O-F-M-I-N-D-A-R-E-D-I-F-F-E-R-E-N-T-T-O-O.
“Hey, ‘Mels’. You promised not to tell!” Janine blurted.
H-E-A-S-K-E-D. Y-O-U-K-N-O-W-I-D-O-N-T-L-I-E.
“Lie about what? What’s going on here?”
S-U-N-D-A-Y-N-I-G-H-T-S-A-T-T-H-E-H-O-W-S-E-R-S-A-R-E-A-L-W-A-Y-S-A-H-O-O-T. T-H-E-R-E-A-R-E-C-L-A-S-S-I-C-T-V-S-H-O-W-S-W-A-I-T-I-N-G-T-O-B-E-L-A-U-G-H-E-D-A-T-D-R-I-N-K-I-N-G-E-X-P-E-R-I-M-E-N-T-S-W-I-T-H-M-O-R-E-S-H-O-T-S-A-N-Y-N-O-R-M-A-L-H-U-M-A-N-C-A-N-H-A-N-D-L-E
“Why am I sure I heard that before?” An extremely puzzled man asked out loud. The words that followed condemned him to a startling silence.
I-M-P-R-O-M-P-T-U-K-A-R-A-O-K-E-S-E-S-S-I-O-N-S-P-L-A-Y-E-D-O-F-F-A-S-L-I-G-H-L-L-Y-D-E-T-U-N-E-D-P-I-A-N-O-A-N-D-W-H-E-N-S-H-E-F-E-E-L-S-P-A-R-T-I-C-U-L-A-R-L-Y-K-I-N-KY-J-A-N-I-N-E-H-Y-P-N-O-T-I-Z-E-S-Y-O-U-W-I-T-H-T-H-I-S-O-L-D-O-U-I-J-A-B-O-A-R-D.
“Sorry, dear,” Janine tossed the bottle away almost hitting the lit fireplace and damning them both. “The good news is you’ll get to play with her again next month without any recollection of this. Her ten minutes are up, but the hypnotic suggestions I’ve planted will forever remain. Smile.”
Brian blinked at glanced at the TV. Classic Trek was on and Spock sported a goatee. How ridiculous! Janine picked up the board and placed it inside a red trunk behind the couch, not before one last message was displayed before her eyes.
S-L-E-E-P-T-I-G-H-T-Y-O-U-T-O-O. I-W-I-L-L-C-A-L-L-Y-O-U-A-G-A-I-N-W-H-E-N-I-N-E-E-D-Y-O-U.
That joyous and horrific night couldn’t come soon enough.
