Paranormal Story Archives
March 2002 –
Page 13
The Ouija
Battle
by Rockportlvr
Over 25 years ago, when I was a young woman, I would visit with my mother on the weekends. Over the years, she realized that I could "see" and always wanted to play the Ouija board. After refusing to do it with her for a long time, I finally decided to do it with her. One day we were contacted by a man who called himself Bjorn Bjorning. He said he was from a village in Denmark or Sweden. He had passed over in the 1100's from a plague. He even gave us the name of the village. We had him on the board every time we played, for about three of four months. I was skeptical because he came across so strongly and why the heck didn't he write in his own language? I was convinced that my mother was at the bottom of it all.
I even went to several libraries and did research. After several tries, I did find the name of the village and that most of the villagers had died of an unknown sickness in the 1100's. My mother was definitely not the type to do intensive research like I was, and I realized that she had nothing to do with him coming in. I knew that he was real anyway. I could feel it. I just knew it.
He stayed with us for a long time, helping us to talk to several others that came across the board. Finally, one evening, a truly evil force came across. I tried to get rid of it, but it insisted on staying, demanding attention. You could feel the electricity in the air. My mother became afraid, wanting to stop. I knew if we didn't get rid of him now, he'd stay... Ouija board or not. I asked our guide to help. For over an hour we could not even reach him. The strong, demanding force would not let anyone else in. Finally he weakly came through, warning us over and again to stay clear of this guy. I asked him if he could do anything for us. The board went crazy, the planchette dead and then moving everywhere. I had the feeling that many forces were in that room at that moment. I felt that our friend had rounded up several other friends to do a little battle in our front room.
A few minutes later, with nothing intelligible coming across the board, I could actually feel that the battle was coming to a head. Then light bulbs started burning out. One by one, the living room, den and kitchen lights blew out. In the dark, my mother sat back on the couch looking at the ceiling. She's pretty dead when it comes to "seeing," but even she felt the tension in the room. We were both afraid of what was going on, knowing it was really happening.
Finally, Bjorn came on the board, very weak, telling us to put away the board. Then he was gone. We put the board away for a month. When we tried to use it again, it was dead. Nothing ever came across on that board again. I have never used the board with my mother again. I occasionally use it with my daughter who is starting to "see," and we usually get quiet forces. But I will not use it again with my mother. Ever.
In that same house, after losing several members of our family in an airplane crash, I felt my Great Aunt Nora in the house. She had been aboard the plane. She stood in the same spot, near the TV, dressed in her gray skirt and jacket, clutching a purse. She was a small, plump lady. Rich. Always got her way in a "diplomatic" way. (No one in the family ever said "no" to her because she had married into money.) Now she stood next to our TV, her eyes fixed on me, demanding. She wanted only one thing and I knew it was next to impossible.
Three of them had been on the plane. My Great Aunt, her son (my father's cousin who was like a brother), and his new German wife. An experimental Navy jet had crashed into them over China Lake, slicing the little piper cub in two, the jet's burner going right into the passenger section of the little plane, killing the two women instantly. Their bodies were found, but my father's cousin was not found. Now she wanted, was actually demanding, that we go and find his body. She said it was on the side of a hill under some bushes.
She was there for two weeks, just standing there staring at me. One night my mother was sitting on the couch watching TV with me. "You see her, don't you?" I was surprised. That meant that mom saw her, too. The message had to be really strong, then. I asked my mother what was Aunt Nora wearing. She described exactly the same business suit, purse, and even the hair style. My mother even knew why Nora was there. We decided to tell her that a massive search by air had been done for three weeks by many of her son's friends, but they had not been able to find him. She stayed with us for some time. I can't remember exactly how long.
Finally, a hiker in the area of China Lake found a hand. On the hand was a Naval Academy ring. Inside was the inscription of my second cousin's name and class number. It had been found lying on the side of a small hill, under some bushes.
Because the family was so rich, a mausoleum had been built to bury the three victims from the crash... the cousin, his wife, and my Great Aunt Nora. There was even a spot made for Nora's husband, Roland, who had not gone on the plane trip. Because he was the only surviving family member, elderly and in poor health, no one had told him that his son's body had never been recovered. Quietly, without his knowledge, the hand was placed in the crypt.
My Great Aunt never appeared in our house again.
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