Status: Complete(:

Death is Black and White

She Thinks She Knows.

I'm out of breath by the time I get to Sam's house. I mean it's not like I stopped even once all the way here, though I looked back about seventeen times. That thing hadn't been following me, thank God, but I still ran for my life. I've never put much thought into the act of running for one's life, but I wish I'd had some sort of preparation for it. For one, you're already panicking, otherwise you'll need no other reason to run. And sprinting as fast as you can for six blocks isn't exactly a walk in the park. In fact it's the farthest thing from that. And then there's that feeling that whatever you're running from is getting closer and closer to you each time you take a step away, which only makes you run faster.

I don't know why I chose to go to Sam's house, I could have gone anywhere else. But she seemed to be an expert on shit like this if she freaked out about that lame-ass board. And she's not exactly the kind of person who plays the silent treatment because she's mad at me. She's good at hiding it, but I'm pretty sure she hates being mad just as much as I do. Which is why she's my best friend.

I figure Adam spent the night, although Sam's mom rarely allows that if I'm not there, too. But when I knock on the door Sam answers, Adam no where to be found.

She looks worn out, like she just rolled out of bed (she probably did). But the moment she sees my face, Sam steps out on the porch and shuts the door behind her, a frown on her face but a gleam in her eye.

All she says is, "I was right." and sits on the swing on the porch, ready for me to say something.

But I don't know what to say; nothing except to explain what exactly I saw in the mirror. It seems as though with every word, the gears in Sam's head take on a whole new speed, faster each time. She rubs her forehead and closes her eyes most of the time, as if she’s trying to picture it. Eventually I wonder if she’s even awake.

But when I finish she looks up with raised eyebrows and heaves a huge sigh. "You're not lying?"

"Why the hell would I lie about this?"

She shrugs and presses her lips together. "You're sure you weren't hallucinating?"

I hesitate but don't really see a reason to hallucinate, since I'm not dehydrated (at least i wasn't. I could really go for something to drink right now..) or on any LSD or something.

"I don't even think I'm creative enough to think up shit like that. I can barely pass art class," I say with a small laugh.

Sam smiles and shakes her head. "Let's go inside, I'd like to put some pants on. Then we can grab some lunch and talk this over. There's a few things I can show you, too."

"Sweet," I sigh, glad she's finally giving me some answers.
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

There's this old restaurant about a mile from Sam's house that we sometimes walk to in the summer called Annie's that has pretty good food, but me mostly just go because it’s what they do in movies and we felt as though we should be a part of that best friends cliche. But we've been coming since about 7th grade. I order a Dr. Pepper and a brownie sundae, then Same lifts up her messenger bag and dumps its contents onto the booth table.

"So I have these books," she starts, "that I got over the years about the paranormal. It's actually a pretty cool concept, but I figured out that it can get pretty dangerous. That's what I was trying to say last night about the Ouija Board. I guess I shouldn't have broken down like that, but it's really serious. A lot of people don't believe in it, and I don't blame them, since they haven't ever seen a ghost.

But I've been looking into it for about five years and all I ever wanted was to see a ghost, really. But after a while of trying to get their attention, I couldn't get anything. So I decided to start studying it, and I found out that ghosts aren't all what we think them to be. I mean, most are harmless. Most. But then there's...others. Demons."

I sip my soda. "Yeah, what was that you were screaming about last night? Opening doors?"

She blinks. "Oh, that. I keep forgetting you're new with this. Okay, so the Ouija board. I don't know what the hell they sell them at toys R us for, we should complain, but a lot of people mistake them for toys. I almost used one when I got curious about spirits, but I didn't know how to get them, and by the time I was able to I'd already read all there is to know about them. But the reason they're dangerous is that, like I said, it opens doors.

So let's put it this way. Ghosts only really exist because they've got some sort of unfinished business. Like, many ghosts are of people who have been murdered and their killer was never caught, or they died before they were able to achieve any goals in their life. Sometimes they just get stuck on the way into the afterlife and want people's help. So by 'opening doors' I mean you're basically acknowledging them. Which doesn't sound so bad, if all they want is a little help. But the reason it's dangerous is because when you open a door, you don't know exactly what will come out. You're basically allowing that spirit to attach itself to you."

"Okayy...." I nod slowly. "But what does that have to do with a Ouija Board?"

"Well most people use the Ouija Board because they're curious. Like if they start hearing things or seeing things strange going on in a certain place, they'll use the Ouija Board to confirm whether or not there's an entity in that place, and if so what they want. Some people, though, like Miranda, just do it for fun. You know, slumber parties, Halloween get-togethers. Which is no big deal, which is why I feel bad for basically ruining their night last night."

I stare at the table.

"But," Sam continues, "I don't like the things. They're dangerous, and even though they don't always do anything, something can always go wrong, you know? And most of the time, nothing does happen. But after all the stories I've read about, I promised myself never to use one. And I guess you could say I was trying to protect Miranda, which is maybe half true, but to tell you the truth I was scared to shit. I felt like maybe something could attach to me or whatever.

And again, some spirits are harmless, with the occasional helpful one. But there's demons. And demons are dangerous. They have no other reason to be around other than to cause havoc. They rarely have unfinished business, they just want more power."

My stomach does a flip, and suddenly a brownie sundae doesn't sound too appetizing anymore. "Well, what if they just want to scare you? This doesn't even sound real-- no offense. I mean, how can you know?"

Sam thinks for a second. "Well, I don't know about it just wanting to scare you. But from what I've read," she flips through various books, occasionally stopping to show pictures or read excerpts, "signs of demonic entities and demonic possession are drastic movement of objects, like something flying off a table-- sometimes when an object moves it could just be a poltergeist, which is like a pesky ghost. Poltergeists usually just want to be noticed, they rarely hurt you-- and they make you really angry when you're in their presence. Sometimes you get terrible thoughts of murder and complete anger, sometimes they'll influence your voice and you'll sound funny, you can even black out when they take over you. That's like a minor possession. Nonetheless, it's dangerous. They can physically harm you, too. I've seen pictures of people with cuts and bruises from demons. Here, look at this."

She pushes a book across the table that has a picture of a man's upper back. His skin is rigid and there are multiple deep red scars that almost look like claw marks. The skin around the marks are slightly bruised. I shake my head.

"Who says the guy doesn't have a cat or something? Those look like claws." As much as I should believe all this, I can't bring myself to do it. Everything's got a loophole. Everyone knows that even those TV shows that are supposed to be true stories are revised a little bit to make people believe it.

Sam shrugs. "I guess we don't know that, but the claws are really common. And sometimes people get shapes."

She shows me someone's arm who has a scar shaped like a circle with a slash mark through it. "Ouch..." is all I say. Still, I can't really find a way to believe this shit. There's always an explanation to get out of each picture she shows me.

I sigh. "I don't know, Sam. All I can say is I saw some ten year old girl in my mirror, and her reflection was fucked up. As if the normal looking girl wasn't weird enough."

She closes the book and starts to put things back in her bag. "Well did you get much sleep last night? Maybe you're sleep deprived."

I laugh dryly. "I wish. Look, I don't know how to explain that thing, but I guess this is our best bet. And, who knows? Maybe she'll turn out to be like, a poltergeist or something. I haven't really seen any of the evidence that you said for demons. There's nothing to be afraid of, right? Maybe this girl was murdered, I mean she's just a kid, maybe she wants help. "

Sam smiles smally. "Well, I'd like to see her. I'll help you, if you want."

"Good, because I haven't got a clue what to think about all this shit."

Feeling a little better, especially since I know Sam's not mad at me, we change subject.
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So I really wanted to add another chapter, and my fingers just kinda took over the keyboard with this one. Sam sounds pretty nerdy, which sucks because that means i'm pretty nerdy since I regurgitated all these facts... Whatever, I really want to get some more chapters up soon, and I'm not sure if I can guarantee that but maybe? And maybe you guys could comment? Or subscribe? Or maybe enforce some peer pressure and force your friends to read it? Either way, I hope you like it (: