Alexandra Sokoloff - The Harrowing

“I went to the cemetery today. I found Zachary’s grave.” She looked to Martin. “There was a Star of David on the headstone.”

Martin stared back at her, stunned. “He was Jewish?”

Robin nodded, glanced at the board. “So he would never be spouting this anti-Semitic…filth.”

Lisa’s face was transparent. “It’s not Zachary?”

Patrick wheeled around on the attic floor. “Then who the fuck are we talking to?”

Robin looked to Cain. “We know Zachary wrote an article on the Baltimore Talking Board—the board we were using over Thanksgiving weekend. We think Zachary and some of his friends were using that same board themselves.”

“Oh my God,” Lisa whispered. “And they were talking to…” She stared down at the board.

They looked around at each other in the freezing half-light.

Robin put her hands back on the planchette. Lisa reluctantly reached forward, too. Robin spoke tensely to the board. “Why did you lie? Who are you really?”

The pointer circled, eerie, slow sweeps, not spelling anything. The slow circling was worse than any message. Robin could hear everyone breathing harshly in the cold.

She tried another tack. “Why did you pretend to be Zachary?”

The pointer spelled immediately.

Robin swallowed, disturbed. “Did you know Zachary?”

“What happened to him?

The planchette trembled as if with laughter, then moved under their hands, slow and taunting. Martin read the word.

GUESS

Robin’s voice was raw in the silence. “He used the board to call you?”

“Why?” She asked quickly. The pointer circled, as if considering, then spelled

SOMETHING IN COMMON

Robin frowned. “What did you have in common?”

She felt a malevolent heat coming through her fingertips, a feeling of pure rage. The pointer flew across the board.

ADON OLAM

The words were unfamiliar, but before Robin could ask, the board went on, the indicator making vicious sharp sweeps.

The pointer began to race violently on the board. Lisa gasped.

Martin suddenly stepped forward under the rafters, spoke tightly to the board. “ Haim ata Qlippah? ” The pointer stopped rattling instantly. Robin’s eyes widened at the unfamiliar language, with the one familiar word.

“What does that mean?” Cain demanded. “What the fuck are you saying?” Patrick growled simultaneously.

“Shut up!” Martin snapped, startling both of them. The pointer was moving, forming incomprehensible letters. Robin felt a different energy through the wooden piece—a cunning. Lisa sounded out the letters one by one.

Martin stared down at the board, not moving.

Cain grabbed Martin’s arm. “What’s with the Hebrew? What did you say?”

Martin pulled away from him, “Just wait.” He spoke to the board. “What do you mean? Explain what you are.”

The pointer moved. This time the words were recognizably English, but mystifying.

Robin read out the sentence, which seemed eerily familiar. Martin had gone very still. “Explain,” he said tightly. The pointer moved again.

Martin had stopped reading and was just watching the board, fixated on the emerging letters. Lisa and Robin sounded the words out haltingly.

Patrick moved closer, staring down at the letters forming. Martin spoke harshly. “Go on.”

Robin felt someone move beside her and was surprised to see Cain at her elbow, staring down at the board as intently as the rest of them.

They looked at one another in the candlelight. Martin hadn’t taken his eyes off the board. He demanded skeptically, “Power to do what?”

The whole energy of the attic room had changed. Robin could feel it—the intense, curious focus of the five of them, and a sense of almost conspiratorial intimacy from the board. She felt vaguely that they were being lulled, that whatever they were talking to was working toward something. The thought made her cold with fear.

She jumped slightly as Martin leaned forward intensely. “Let’s see what you can do, then.” The pointer moved, and spelled:

The five of them were deathly silent. Patrick spoke first, his voice sounding far away. “Move the table.”

Robin looked down with the others as the pointer spelled out the next sequence.

They all looked around at one another. The darkness shimmered with candlelight under the slanting attic beams.

Robin wanted to say NO , to stop whatever was happening, but she, too, was lulled, almost hypnotized.

Martin reached down and put his hand on the table. Patrick placed his big palm flat on the surface. Then Cain reached out and touched the edge.

The table suddenly slid five feet across the floor.

Robin and Lisa sat frozen in their chairs, empty space between them. The boys stood stupefied, motionless, not breathing.

Martin came to life, marched across the empty space, grabbed the edge of the table, and dragged it back between Robin and Lisa. Robin noticed through the dreamy edges of her shock that he had to use his entire strength to move it, it was that heavy—yet moments before it had slid across the room as easily as if it had been on wheels.

Martin spoke loudly to the air. “No more circus tricks. What can you really do?”

Across the table from Robin, Lisa’s eyes were dilated, her hands clasped in her lap. Robin saw something jolt in her face, a grimace that was almost a sneer, and then, just as quickly, a look of confusion. She put her hands back on the pointer as obediently as a child.

No , Robin thought. No more .

She shoved her chair back, about to get up, and then felt a push in her head, something feeling around the edges of her mind, whispering, trying to get in. Robin felt a stab of revulsion. She pushed back, and the presence was gone.

She looked down in a daze and was jolted to see her hands were back on the moving planchette. What’s happening?

The guys were crowded up against the table, Martin and Patrick sounding out the letters.

The pointer kept moving.

The words were so utterly unfamiliar, the others were sounding the letters out one by one, but Robin could hear Martin speaking the whole sentence under his breath. “ Ze ma she-uchal leharot lecha —”

Cain noticed, as well. He turned on Martin. “What’s happening?”

Martin stared down at the board, breathing shallowly, mesmerized. Robin thought with clarity, It’s getting at him. It’s almost got him .

Martin spoke with strained excitement. “ Im ata Qlippah, tochi-ach et ze .”

Robin pulled her hands off the pointer. “ No .” She stood, facing Martin. “ Stop it. What are you doing?”

Martin stepped back, looked around at the others, dazed, as if he’d been jerked out of sleep. “Just…asking it what it means.”

Robin stood, breathing hard. They could stop now. She knew they should, but they were so close, so close to knowing.