Child's Play

It was sometime after dinner.  Or before.  I can’t really remember, but here’s what I do remember, and this is what happened:

I was sitting on the floor with my sister.  The floor was covered in green carpet - green like moss, green - and I was sitting on that.  Sitting with my legs crossed.  Sitting upstairs in a room next to the attic.  A room with a television, two windows, and a couch.  Between my sister and me was a large, hardback edition of the Merriam-Webster Dictionary - its cover made of red fabric, its title embossed in gold.  Also between my sister and me was a Ouija board from the attic, from the 1950s, from our mother’s youth.  In the middle of the clear plastic viewfinder - the one that supposedly moves around the board to answer questions from beyond - was a nail.  A tiny metal nail.  Right through the center.  I don’t know why.

We asked it a question to test it.  To make sure it was working.  We asked it to tell us which word we would flip to in the dictionary.  It spelled a word.  I don’t remember the word.  We flipped open the dictionary, and the word was there.  Right at the top of the page.