Spirit Of The Coin

I am very fond of ghost stories and everything about the paranormal. Every day I search for new stories to read and pictures to see. Although I am a scaredy-cat, I love the chills and thrills, and I'm not new to them.

I've played the Spirit of the Coin (Ouija) in high school. A cousin taught me how to play it, and I shared that knowledge with my school friends. At first, it was just sheer fun.

While we played, we somehow knew that some of the players were fooling around by moving the coin themselves. But that didn't stop us from playing it at school every day.

What made playing Ouija potent was the fact that there were actually stories about our school being haunted. That premise made the game even more intense.

It is known that our school was built over the graves of Japanese soldiers of the Second World War. Some even believed that the ground was a battle ground where many soldiers lost their lives. Over the years, students have sighted ghosts at different parts of the school building.

One day, we decided to play Spirit of the Coin during our lunch break. 20 students, including myself, crawled through the window of a Floating House that had been vacant for as long as I can remember. Nobody knows who owns it.

We found a small table and dragged five stools from all over the place. Only five players could touch the coin at a time, so we asked for five volunteers, and got them quite easily because everybody was eager. The rest of the students were asked to participate in praying silently in their hearts for the ghosts to come and play the game with us.

The prayer was a silent one; our eyes were closed, and we concentrated on calling any spirit that was around to come and play the game. The five of us who had our fingers on the coin suddenly found it harder to breathe; we felt a strong presence of something around us. Then, suddenly, the coin began to move. I knew I didn't move it, so I began to break a smile, thinking, Here we go. Which one of you four is pushing the damn coin?

At this point, we opened our eyes.

“Who is here?” One person asked.

We watch the coin being pushed and pulled. It spelt
out 'B-O-B'.

“How did you die?” Another question came.

The coin moved. It spelt out 'D-R-O-W-N'.

I could see some smiles and some fear on the faces of my friends who were participating and also those standing around.

More questions came, and each one was answered promptly. I started to believe we could just be dealing with a real spirit.

The game went on for quite awhile and the players were getting tired, so we changed players frequently. Those who were standing and watching were replacing the tired players.

I began to feel my feet getting cold, then, the coldness disappeared, and my feet became totally numb. I was so scared of being paralysed that I began to cry involuntarily. Even though I was desperate to stop the game, I couldn't just lift my finger from the coin; someone else had to replace me first. When I was replaced, I tried to stand but couldn't. I panicked and screamed hysterically. I freaked many of the students out, and they began to run for the window. The five players were edgy too but they knew they could not stop. They knew the rules—stop in the middle of the game and suffer dire consequences. So, they kept on playing while I stood there immobilised.

They pled with the spirit to leave but it wouldn't. They played for a couple of minutes more, then the air in the entire Floating House began to feel cold, and a sweet smell was permeating in the air. We knew it was time to get the heck out of there.

We looked at each other, and then one of the girls shouted, “RUN!” They literally carried me to the window and threw me out. There were screams and hysteria all over the place. Once outside, four of the five girls carried me as far away from the Floating House as they could.

Some of the teachers were running toward us. “What happened to you? One of them asked, excitedly. We told them what we did and they scolded us for it.

“We must take you to the witch doctor,” one of the teachers said.

I had passed out at the witch doctor's house and only woke up late in the evening when I was back home. I felt a slight sensation on my feet but I still could not walk. I was grateful nevertheless that I wasn't going to be permanently paralysed.

The next morning, I was forced to go to school because my whole faculty decided to have a mass and pray over the Floating House. Priests sprinkled holy water to each corner of the Floating House and prayed to the spirits there to forgive us for what we had done. All of us who were there the day before, had to ask for forgiveness.

I was happy we did the prayers because my legs recovered very quickly soon after. My happiness was short-lived though. A morning some weeks later, my pinkie finger started to lose sensation, and I started to feel dizzy. Before I knew it, I was out cold, and only opened my eyes at the witch doctor's house.

Later, my friends told me that I had been possessed, my eyes became red, and the way I looked at each one of them was hair-raising. I spoke with a language which they couldn't understand. They said they had to tie me up because I was so strong. It would have been impossible to take me to the witch doctor without tying me up.

Four weeks after seeing the witchdoctor, my dizzy spells came back. My mom frantically searched for different witch doctors but could not totally cure me. Some skeptical teachers suggested that I should see a psychiatrist. Of course, I didn't.

Months passed, but nothing had improved. Strangely though, my possessions had a timing. I would normally feel strange and become numb in various places of my body at 9 A.M. and often blacked out at noon. But I wouldn't be totally out cold because I'd be talking in a strange language no one understood.

One day, a popular reverend from out of state was visiting our town, and at the time our church was organising a mass for the sick and unwell, so my mother thought we should go and be blessed by him. I was reluctant to go because I was not dying or anything like that, but my mother and friends were very persistent.

When we were walking up the steps of the church, I began to feel really queasy and felt a certain force trying to stop me from going up the stairs. I would have turned around and walked away but my mother and friends held my arms tightly and forced me up the steps and through the church doors. Immediately, I felt very hot and bothered. Then, the familiar sense of dizziness came over me. Then I blacked out.

I woke up in a small room, and a guy I often saw at church was pressing his hand on my head. I looked for my mother but didn't see her. The man had his other hand on his chest, and he was crying. He was thanking god for using him as an instrument in casting away the evil spirit from me. Then, he began to chant in Latin. After chanting for a minute or two, he asked me how I was feeling. I guess he must have seen that I was okay because he didn't wait for my reply. He called my mother to come in. My mother and my friends came in with tears in their eyes.

Apparently, I had collapsed when they brought me to the altar. I began to shake violently and my body arched as if something was trying to come out of my stomach but couldn't. I had freaked everyone, especially my mother, so the reverend told the man to take me into a private room for exorcism.

I had no more incidents of dizziness or numbness after that day. I still had to see the man who performed the exorcism on me for a couple of months just to see if I was truly all right.

I will never again go near an Ouija board or mess with spirits. They are real and they can really harm you.

Source: http://eerietales.bz11.com/phil.html