She Answered. Now We’re Stuck

Table of Contents

The Séance Gone Wrong: Séance

The candles flickered as the old grandfather clock struck midnight. Four friends sat in a circle in the center of an antique-laden parlor, their hands barely touching. A Ouija board rested between them, letters faded from decades of whispered questions and restless spirits.

“Are we really doing this?” Sam asked, shifting nervously in his seat.

“Yes, and no one backs out now,” replied Lily, the one who had organized the séance. Her eyes glinted with excitement. “The spirits only answer those who truly believe.”

Mike chuckled. “Yeah, or those dumb enough to invite demons into their home.”

“It’s not demons,” Lily snapped. “We’re contacting Madeline Mercer, the original owner of this house. She died mysteriously in 1893.”

Emma, the most skeptical of the group, looked around. “And why are we doing this in the dark again?”

“Because the veil between worlds is thinner at night,” Lily said with a theatrical whisper.

Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He had a bad feeling about tonight. Not that he believed in ghosts—he just didn’t like the way the shadows danced on the peeling wallpaper.

“Alright,” Lily said, taking a deep breath. “Place your fingers lightly on the planchette.”

The group obeyed. For a long moment, nothing happened. The room was silent except for the creaks of the old house and the occasional gust of wind outside.

“Is there anyone here with us?” Lily asked aloud.

The planchette didn’t move. Mike stifled a yawn. “Maybe she’s busy tonight.”

Just then, the planchette jerked forward, slowly spelling out: Y-E-S.

Emma laughed nervously. “Okay, who did that?”

“No one,” Lily said, her voice trembling with excitement. “Ask another question.”

“What is your name?” Sam asked.

M-A-D-E-L-I-N-E.

They all exchanged glances. Lily grinned. “See? It’s her. She’s here.”

“Ask her how she died,” Emma whispered.

“How did you die, Madeline?”

The planchette moved faster this time. P-U-S-H-E-D.

“Pushed?” Sam repeated. “As in… murdered?”

Y-E-S.

The candles flickered more violently. A sudden cold filled the room, as if someone had opened a door to winter.

“This is getting creepy,” Mike said. “Maybe we should stop.”

“No,” Lily insisted. “We’re finally getting answers.”

Suddenly, the planchette shot to the corner of the board and began spinning in rapid circles. The wind outside howled louder, but the windows were shut. The temperature dropped again, their breath visible in the air.

Then, all at once, the candles went out.

“Lily?” Sam called in the darkness.

Someone screamed. Then silence.

When the lights flickered back on—only two people remained at the table: Sam and Emma. Mike and Lily were gone.

“Where did they go?!” Emma gasped, looking around frantically.

“I—I don’t know!” Sam stood up, knocking over his chair. “Mike? Lily?”

The room was empty. The Ouija board lay in pieces on the floor, the planchette split clean in half. A single word had been etched onto the wood beneath it: STAY.

Emma ran to the front door and yanked it open—only to find a solid wall of bricks. “What the—? This wasn’t here before!”

Sam checked the windows. Same thing. Bricked shut from the outside.

“This isn’t possible,” he muttered. “This can’t be real.”

Emma turned to him, panic rising. “We’re trapped in here. Just like Madeline.”

Suddenly, a voice whispered from behind them. “You brought me back… Now you stay with me… forever.”

They spun around. A figure stood in the corner—pale, dressed in Victorian mourning clothes, her face sunken but her eyes bright with fury.

Emma screamed again. Sam grabbed a candlestick and swung, but it passed right through her.

“You can’t fight me,” the spirit hissed. “You asked. I answered. Now you pay.”

She lunged at them—but vanished an instant before making contact. The parlor fell deathly quiet again.

“What do we do?” Emma whispered, trembling.

Sam looked around. “We finish it. We send her back.”

He picked up the broken Ouija board pieces and began reassembling them. Emma found matches and relit the candles. As the flames steadied, they both sat once again at the circle.

“Madeline Mercer,” Sam said loudly, “we release you. Go back to your world. This is not your home anymore.”

The air grew heavier. Shadows stretched unnaturally long across the floor.

“Say it with me,” he told Emma.

Together, they chanted, “We release you. Return to your rest.”

A deep groan filled the house, like wood snapping under pressure. The windows cracked, light seeping through the bricks outside. A final scream echoed from above—the sound of a woman’s agony—and then… silence.

The candles burned steady. The chill lifted. When they tried the front door again, it opened to the street as if nothing had changed.

Outside, dawn was breaking. Birds sang. Cars drove by. It was over.

“Where did Mike and Lily go?” Emma asked, her voice small.

Sam looked back at the house. “I don’t know. But I don’t think they ever really left.”

Weeks passed. The police found no trace of Mike or Lily. It was as if they had vanished from the world.

Sam and Emma tried to return to normal life, but the memory haunted them. Emma stopped answering texts. Sam couldn’t sleep through the night. Each had dreams of the séance, of Madeline’s hollow voice echoing through their minds.

One night, Sam heard knocking on his bedroom window. He lived on the third floor.

When he peeked through the curtain, there was nothing. But the next morning, etched into the glass, were the words: You said I could stay.

He didn’t tell Emma. He couldn’t. Instead, he dug into the history of the house. Newspaper archives, local legends, anything. What he found chilled him.

Madeline Mercer hadn’t just died mysteriously—she had held séances herself. According to old journals, she had attempted to bring back her lost fiancé… but she had opened something else. People had vanished then, too. Her fiancé was never among them.

That night, Sam returned to the house alone. He didn’t tell Emma, didn’t alert anyone. He brought salt, iron, candles, and a printed version of an old banishment rite he’d found scribbled in one of Madeline’s letters.

The house welcomed him in eerie silence. Dust had settled, but the air still felt alive. He stepped into the parlor and lit the candles once more. A shadow shifted in the corner.

“You came back,” said Madeline’s voice.

“I came to end it,” Sam whispered, holding out the banishment rite.

He began reading the incantation. The house trembled. Windows shattered inward. The air screamed.

“No!” she shrieked. “You cannot undo what you started!”

Sam pressed on. A vortex of wind spun around him, the floorboards groaned and split. Madeline’s form twisted and contorted, pulled toward the ceiling.

With a final word, there was a flash of white light—and then silence.

Sam collapsed. When he awoke, the house was still. Calm. Empty. The walls were no longer bricked. The Ouija board was gone.

Outside, it was morning again. The birds sang louder this time. Brighter. Lighter.

He called Emma. She answered. Her voice was clearer, as if a fog had lifted.

Neither of them ever went near that house again. But somewhere, in a forgotten corner of the world, a new Ouija board waits… for the next question.

And Madeline Mercer, though banished, still listens.

Because some doors, once opened, never truly close.