Everyone that knows me personally can vouch for me when I say I truly do love paranormal things. Even you may be able to just by looking at my profile. Of course, I have never seen a ghost. My house is not haunted. I’ve gone paranormal investigating with friends (they claimed to see and feel things while we were walking, but I never did). I will admit one thing that is pretty embarrassing: I was jealous of my friends who had paranormal experiences. Crazy, right? In that craziness, I attempted to be haunted. I took grave dirt from the cemetery near my house. I played with an Ouija board alone and tried to purposely not say goodbye, and played a different version of the game more recklessly than before. I was really, really trying to have an experience, but nothing came. Nothing ever happened. That was, until, I bought an antique photo of a WWII pilot.

I saw him in my local antique store where I had taken violin lessons as a kid. I had returned to the shop one summer for nostalgia and to show one of my friends around. Something had drawn me to him. I had never really expressed interest in collecting antique photos until I saw this pilot. I had to have him. I paid $2 for his picture. My friend even said he was cute, but that’s not what pulled me to the photo in the first place. It felt weird. I saw this as a possibility to finally get my paranormal experience. And yes, I am that crazy white girl. I brought the picture home and waited. Days went by and nothing would happen. I framed and put the photo on my wall. I got into the habit of talking to the photo and I was able to look up information about him. His name is Christopher and he inspired the collection on my account. I thought it would be a nice cute acknowledgment that I could share with others without repeatedly sharing his picture.

Anyway, one night I was reading a book that addresses the Victorian era popular beliefs of paranormal and spirit communication before bed. I found this game in the book called “Shoebox Telephone.” I decided to play in an effort to communicate with Christopher. I followed the directions perfectly…or at least I thought. I wrote the letter and put it in the shoebox along with a copied picture of him and a model spitfire plane, which he flew during WWII. So, yes, I had two charged objects just in case one failed me. I read the letter into the “phone,” put the shoebox in my closet and went to bed. According to the book, I would hear the ringing in my dreams as a signal to “answer” the call.

I can strangely remember my dream vividly. The ringing came. It sounded like a really old ringing sound. You know the one that older people have their phone ringer sound as? Yeah, that one. It sounded just like that. I looked around and the ringing had stopped. In my mom’s room, I could hear my dog whimpering. I got out of bed and went to check on him. My mom was fast asleep, but Fluffer, my dog, was restless and freaking out. I watched as my dog whimpered, turned circles, and shook in fear until he went back to sleep as if nothing happened. When I walked back into my room, my closet door had opened a little. I closed the door and was getting back in bed when the door flung open and a girl came out of it. She was wearing a dress that I had bought at a consignment store with my friend earlier that week (because, you know, gotta be aesthetic and vintage). I had never seen this girl before. She looked like a normal child, but something about her felt off. Something was wrong with this girl, but I couldn’t place what it was. Before I knew it, she grabbed me and we stood staring at each other for what felt like forever before someone or something pulled me away from her and began yelling, “Get away from her! Wake up! C’mon, wake up!” It sounded like a man’s voice, but I couldn’t place it.

I woke, literally and figuratively, shaken. I got out of bed and opened my closet. There were no red flags. The cup was not knocked over or moved and the shoebox was still closed. If I wanted, I could have continued the game. However, something stopped me. It didn’t feel right to continue, so I didn’t. I said, “I’m sorry.” I said it loudly so that if Christopher were there, he could hear or understand. I snapped the string that connected the phone to the charged objects. The phone was now useless. I buried the box in my backyard so that no one could open it before the acceptable time. I burned the cup. Maybe one day I will try to play again and I’ll tell you all if it works.

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So that was my first article. I wanted my first to be, I dunno, cute or happy. However, I really wanted to tell this story to anyone that wanted to hear or read it. If y’all enjoyed it, please let me know! Maybe I’ll post how to play the game for anyone interested or more stories in the future if anything else happens.