It was a Friday night, and my friend Sarah was coming over after school to spend the night. My parents were going away for the night, and I convinced them it would be better if I weren’t alone. So, our parents agreed to a sleepover.

We had been planning this night alone, unsupervised, for weeks, since it would be the first time I would have the house to myself. I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity and do something I’ve ALWAYS wanted to: I wanted to try the Ouija board.

I was able to get my hands on one and hid it from my parents—there was no way they would have approved. But, I really wanted to try and talk to otherworldly beings, like ghosts and spirits. I remember the weeks leading up to that Friday, I did so much research, including what to do, like always say goodbye, and what not to do, like mock it or do it alone.

Every day, I would tell Sarah all the stuff I learnt, and ideas of what to ask it. We were pretty excited, or at least I thought we were…

When we were finally alone on that Friday night, Sarah began to get cold feet. She was trying to make excuses not to use the board, like “It won’t work anyways” or “I’m tired, let’s just watch a movie.” Needless to say, I wasn’t very happy with my friend, and told her such. Eventually, I gave her the ultimatum: I would do it with or without her.

We both got a bit moody with each other, but Sarah continued to go along with it. Once the board was in place on the table of my living room, the candles lit, and the rest of the lights off, we began.

We asked our first question, the typical “Is anyone here?”, and to our surprise the planchette began to move. A wave of fear washed over Sarah’s face, transforming her expression. My heart raced with intensity. In a state of panic, Sarah began to forcefully move the planchette, making up the answers instead of letting it move on its own. Thinking back, I don’t think she wanted to face the reality of the unknown. She began answering the questions we asked with jokes or absurdity. I tried to get her to cooperate, but she was being difficult. After a while, deeming the venture pointless, I gave up. We said goodbye for good measure and blew out the candles.

I was giving Sarah the cold shoulder and decided to make up the couches in the living room and get ready for bed. I put a movie on, and we watched in silence.

Angry and disappointed, I couldn’t pay attention to the movie or fall asleep. I really wanted to properly experience the Ouija board. When I noticed that Sarah was fast asleep, I decided that I wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste; I was going to use the Ouija board again.

I knew I shouldn’t do it alone, but I had no choice; I don’t know when I would have this opportunity again.

I went back to the dining room, relit the candles, and placed the board back on the table. Nervously, I held the planchette and asked the first question once again: “Is there anyone here?” The planchette began to move once again on its own. It felt strange, much different than Sarah’s forcefully steering. As the planchette slid on the board, it went to “yes.”

I asked for their name, and it replied “Dantalion.” I thought it was a strange name and asked them who they were. The board replied “old” and “lonely.” It was a sad reply and I tried to console it by telling it that everyone feels lonely sometimes. The planchette then moved to “You too?” And I told it, yes, sometimes. Then it said “Everything will be fine”, returning the consolation. I told it I appreciated its concern. I felt comfort in talking with something gentle and kind.

Then the piece slid to “What want?” And I just said that I was curious and was excited to meet them. Then it asked “Who else here?” Then I told it about Sarah sleeping in the living room and how we attempted to communicate with the board earlier but she got scared, so we had to stop. Then it said “Lucky, you have friend. I, lonely.” I try to comfort them by saying I was there for them, but it replied “sad.”

I don’t know how to explain it, but I really felt its loneliness and sadness. So, I asked it if there was anything I could do for it, and it said “Yes, please.” I affirmed it I would help it. I remember reading stories online where people helped lost souls pass on to the afterlife. I thought that’s what I would be doing. But, what it said next made me realize I was catastrophically mistaken.

It said “I want you.”

My stomach dropped and I panicked — an awful feeling consumed me; I quickly said no.

Then the planchette kept repeating the same words “I want you”, while I kept confirming no. Then, I had enough and went to say goodbye. But, the piece wouldn’t let me. As I tried to push it to goodbye, it would hold still, impossible to move any further. Then it moved to the letters “no goodbye.”

I had enough and tried to take my hands off the planchette, but I couldn’t; it was like my hands were glued to the piece, and the piece wasn’t leaving the table. I started to cry, pleading to let me go and leave me alone. But the piece kept repeating “I want you.” I pleaded and begged, and eventually it wrote “fine.” Tears ceased and I felt some relief—was it finally over? Then it moved to the following words: “Give me Sarah instead.” I said no immediately and told it they would get no one. But then the board wrote out “Either you or her.”

I kept saying no, and quickly went back into my sobbing and pleading state. Then it wrote a long, elongated sentence, which I read carefully in fear: “I’m coming, hide under blanket, if not, I get you.” Then the planchette snapped in two and all the candles blew out. I was free.

I don’t know how to explain it, but the air thickened, making it hard to breathe, as if fear itself had taken physical form and manifested in the house.

Then, I started to hear loud and aggressive footsteps. Panicking, I ran into the living room and hid under the blanket. Sarah was still fast asleep. The footsteps were getting louder as they approached the living room, and as they entered it, I noticed that the footsteps sounded more like clunking hooves than normal footsteps.

I wanted to scream so badly and warn Sarah, but I was petrified with fear. The hooves came closer and closer, and then it stopped between Sarah and I. Before I could place the sound, I felt its breath washing over me — hot, slow, and undeniably wrong, it wasn’t human. Then, I heard subtle movement on the couch beside me, and suddenly, the hooves took off running. The sound of that thing running put me in a state where time distorted. I don’t know how long I stayed under that blanket, seconds, minutes, or hours, but when I finally came to, I pulled off the sheet covering me and saw that my friend Sarah was gone.

I ran around the house, turning on all the lights, looking for my friend, but she was gone. In a daze, I cleaned up the dining room, and took the Ouija board back to my room, where I hid it, leaving no evidence of what happened. Then I lay in my bed in a fetal position until my parents came home.

It was the longest night and morning of my life. I just wallowed in my guilt for hours.

When my parents walked through the front door, I ran down hysterically and told them about the vanishing of Sarah. After a few phone calls, our house was flooded with police, investigators, and others.

I never told anyone about the Ouija board, fearing that thing might get angry and come back.

It’s been months now, and there is no sign of Sarah. The police are calling in an abduction, which isn’t far from the truth.

I have a hard time sleeping at night, one from the guilt and pain of selling out my friend, but also the fear of that thing returning to get me. I’m also disgusted with myself, disgusted at what kind of friend I became, to allow her to be taken away by that thing. Sometimes I wish I didn’t hide from it and took me instead. But, even that thought makes me want to throw up.

I shouldn’t have wanted to play so badly. I shouldn’t have forced Sarah to play. My friend is gone forever because of my recklessness and selfishness.