After three days, I was exhausted but far from finished. The way things felt, far from finished was optimistic. There would be no sleep. There would be no rest. There would be no relief until one side gave up and my faith in the priest in front of me gave me comfort.
* * * * *
Let me catch you up a little. It all started with a witchy girlfriend and a Ouija board. Some people view Ouija boards as slumber party toys that make little girls squeal in the night. Others know there can be some nasty shit involved if you’ve got a half-decent connection between worlds and a lack of good sense. This seems to be the situation we’re in.
I remember it like it was yesterday. A group got together to drink and play grab-ass at Mt. Zion Church late one Saturday night. If you’ve never been inside an abandoned church in the middle of a still night, you don’t know what you’re missing! Mt. Zion Church sat at the end of a gravel road so encroached by tree limbs they screeched along both sides of your car. One final tight turn to the left at the end and your headlights swept across the parking lot butted-up against woods. Finally, you got a view of the cemetery and the old church itself.
The view never fails to send chills down spines or asses across bench seats to sit a little closer. Even guys held their breath rounding that corner. Truthfully, it’s why I loved the place.
On that particular night, I’d gotten to the church early, made a planchette, and left it on the board. I knew Samantha was coming. I forgot to mention, some kid had scratched a rough Ouija board into what was left of the old altar. Calling it rough was being kind and nobody really put much faith in it anyway. Anyone who wanted to play just had to make a planchette out of old drywall chunks. Seriously, how real could that be?
I’d had my eye on Samantha for years and never cared who she was with. Tonight it was Kevin. Maybe it was weed…maybe it was wine coolers…maybe it was Kevin’s hand under her skirt on the ride out from town. Whatever it was, when the three of us sat down at the old altar and touched the planchette, we felt it. Samantha was an open channel that night and that was all it took. Kevin quickly lost interest and drank with some of the others so Samantha and I played alone. It took a little coaxing but getting inside her that night made all the waiting worthwhile.
Over the next few weeks, I spent more and more time with Samantha and we became inseparable. That’s actually the perfect word…inseparable…and here we are.
* * * * *
I look up at the sweating priest through Samantha’s eyes and speak with Samantha’s tongue, “It’s only been three days you faithless faggot. I’m not going anywhere.”
This story was written to the first-sentence prompt, “After three days I was exhausted, but far from finished” at www.ScribblerSociety.com