The dim glow of fairy lights strung across Melanie’s room cast soft shadows on the walls as you both sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by snack wrappers and soda cans. The clock on her nightstand blinked 3:00 AM. You exchanged a mischievous glance.

“You know what we should do?” Melanie said, her voice low. “Jake has an ouija board.”

Your eyes widened. “No way. He’d never let us use it.”

Melanie smirked, already standing. “Watch me.”

Moments later, she returned triumphantly, the board under her arm. “He actually said yes,” she whispered, excitement bubbling. “I think he’s too tired to care.”

You set up the board, lighting a single candle for ambiance. Shadows danced eerily across the room as the air seemed to grow heavier.

“Okay,” Melanie said, placing her fingers lightly on the planchette. “Let’s see if this actually works.”

You hesitated before joining her, your fingertips brushing hers. “Is there anyone here with us?” she asked steadily.

At first, nothing. The room was silent, save for the faint creak of the house. Then, the planchette began to move, sliding deliberately to spell YES.

You froze, exchanging wide-eyed looks. “Did you move it?” you whispered.

“No,” Melanie said faintly. “Did you?”

The candle flickered violently, almost extinguishing. The planchette moved faster, spelling jumbled letters. The air turned colder, oppressive.

“Maybe we should stop,” you said, your voice trembling.

But Melanie didn’t respond. Her gaze fixed on the board, her expression blank. “Melanie?” you said, touching her arm.

She turned to you slowly, her eyes dark and empty, her lips curling into a chilling smile. “Melanie’s not here anymore,” she said, her voice distorted.

Panic surged as you scrambled backward, knocking the candle over. Darkness consumed the room, and her low, guttural laugh echoed, sending shivers down your spine.