What Lies Beyond

by B. B. Palomo

  What lies beyond?

  The words replayed in my head as I placed the planchette down in the middle of the board, so the window was positioned right over the letter T. My hand lingered, oddly unwilling to let it go, as if it had a mind of its own.

  Cold seeped into my skin as if drawn to my warmth. The tips of my fingers absorbed the crackling energy, void of anything remotely comforting, leaving me empty and—

  “Willow!” My mother snapped like she had been trying to gain my attention for a while.

  “Y-yes?” I turned, blinking the dryness from my eyes and drawing my hand back swiftly as if I’d been burned. A weight I hadn’t realized settled on my chest lifted as I sucked in a grounding breath, helping to bring my world back into focus.

  “They’re here. Draw the curtains closed, and remember to be nice.” She stared at me until I plastered my best customer service smile across my face. She nodded, content, and went to get the door, turning just as she was about to vanish from my vision, and spoke sternly, “Do not touch the board until I’m back.”

  I nodded to her back as she left for our visitors.

  As soon as she disappeared around the corner, I pulled each of the red velvet curtains shut, casting the room into darkness aside from the candlelight. You could still easily see, but it gave the space an ominous feeling with its shelved skulls, dolls, and jars of herbs. I pulled lint from the black tablecloth and waited. Voices grew louder as Mom navigated her clients to the room. The light from the kitchen flipped on, shining through the beaded curtains as she pointed for them to come in. After they piled through, she flipped the light back off, reviving the dark.

  Three men stood in front of me. They were all dressed in dry cleaned suits sporting the kind of fancy cufflinks I’d only ever seen in movies and once on Adira’s dad. I wanted to ask about what they were doing in our small town, but I knew that would earn me a stern look for being nosy. It didn’t stop me from wondering, though. Those Rolex watches weren’t something you’d see with the current residents.

  Each man was the same but different. They all had cleanly cut, styled hair ranging in colors. The one who stood out in front boasted confidence and fastened it together with a bright white smile when he saw me. His gelled hair looked caramel in the lighting, but a single missed strand proved it to be blond. They screamed money from the shine of their shoes to their groomed eyebrows, and it was easy to see why Mom refused to pass up the job.

  I smiled back, remembering how I had been told to behave and accidentally…curtsied?

  I thanked the dim lighting for hiding the crimson blush that crawled painfully up my neck, resting in hot pools at my cheeks. The movement earned me a smirk from the man in front. The other two didn’t look as sure of their plans, almost like they would rather be eating the old sushi at their hotel than be out in a tiny little house of voodoo creations. I’d wished they were too, but here we were, and I was determined to try and make the best of it.

  “Please sit.” I slowly waved my hand in front of me at the seats I’d positioned around the table. I did my best to be poised, mimicking someone sure of themselves, however, my movements were jerky and unrefined.

  “Yes, please,” my mom concurred, and they quickly obliged.

  The chairs’ wood creaked under the new weight as they struggled to get comfortable in their seats. My mom sat down quickly, stretching her back taut to make her torso appear longer than it was. I eyeballed the chair that was left. It didn’t go unnoticed that it was next to the owner of the only smile I had gotten and who I assumed to be the instigator of this escapade. With no choice other than resignation, I sat.

  “You know…” The man leaned into me, his brown eyes boring into mine. The flicker of the candle flame behind me lapped at his pupils. “I don’t believe in this stuff. My name is Henson, by the way. Richard Henson.”

  I didn’t have to look at my mom to know she was nudging me with her eyes to play nice despite his awful James Bond-like introduction. “Most people don’t, Dick. I can call you Dick, right?” I batted my lashes and pulled my lips into a tight grin. “It would be wise to keep those reservations to yourself, though, as the spirits may not take kindly to your feelings,” I added, staying in character, ensuring to lace my words with a seriousness I believed would be expected of me.

  He wasn’t fazed. Instead, he shot me a look that probably had won him prom king. Though I’d have to admit he was handsome, the smile plastered across his face resembled something close to Scar before letting Mufasa fall to his death. The excitement in his expression screamed predator. He was a man who appreciated a chase, probably not encountering it as often as most.

  My face curdled. Not from the overwhelming force of his ego pressing into me or that I had nowhere to escape from it. It wasn’t even because of the smirks pulling his friend’s lips up as they watched our quick exchange, assuredly knowing his antics all too well.

  No, it was the chill that straightened my spine, forcing my vision to tear from Richard and lock onto the almost unperceivable disturbance in the air behind him. Thick breath caught in my throat, struggling down into my lungs, as my heart picked up speed, panicking there wouldn’t be more air supplied. I flattened my palms on the table, reminding myself how to breathe.

  This time I was sure no one else could see her. Not a single gaze darted in her direction as she appeared, occupying the space behind Richard. The washed-out tint to her skin, as if frozen between life and death, hallowed out the area around her eyes. They were colorless, darkened either by genetics or the lack of light in the room, dragging her features down into a permanent frown.

  “Ha-ha! Okay, well, let’s get started!” My mom jutted in and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight in a warning.

  “Ow,” I mumbled lowly, clutching her hand back more firmly until she let go. Despite the silent reprimand, I was grateful because the action tore my gaze from the woman who now stood over Richard’s shoulder, resting a loving hand on him. I kept my gaze averted. This proved my worst fear—I’d lost my mind.

  “Is there anyone you’re trying to contact in particular?” Mom asked the group. Richard shuddered, his body acutely aware of the unprecedented cold slowly filling the room. “Or are you only looking to communicate with the other side to perhaps disprove it exists at all?”

  I cocked my head to steal a glance through thick lashes at someone who barely resembled my mom. The words flowing from her mouth were foreign, like we were actors in a new film. But, staged or not, to blindly open a door terrified me more than the hallucinations I’d started having. Even movies were based on some fact, right?

  “What about your uncle, John?” The man on the very right said to the man in the middle, his cornflower blue eyes lighting up as he ran a hand over copper-colored hair.

  “No, dude. That guy was a creep—” Richard said. An interesting choice of words coming from him.

  “Hey!”

  “Okay, sorry.” He laughed and shrugged back at John, not genuinely apologetic. “Maybe Gandhi or something—I don’t know. Let just shoot for the dark and see what happens. It’s all fake anyway, right?”

  “What about your mother?” I asked Richard, the words plunging from my lips without warning.

  Why had I asked that? I shook my head like I needed to rid the invader in there before they could control me again. When I checked back for the apparition, she stared straight at me—the same confusion tugging her eyebrows together. I quickly turned away. I shouldn’t be interacting with hallucinations, right? I was positive I read that somewhere.

  The mixture of surprise and terror crossing Richard’s face was almost as painful as the hot iron gaze penetrating my back from where Mom sat. I didn’t dare turn to confirm if I was correct, admittedly a little afraid to meet them. She wouldn’t understand that I wasn’t trying to cause trouble by acting out and ruining their experience. It was the veil of reality battling in my conscience as I lost sight of what was real and fake.

  “I’m sorry—” />
  He cut Mom’s apology short with a raised hand, composed himself, and reset his features to resemble the confident look he entered our home with. “No, it’s okay. Why not—let’s try.”

  I blanched.

  There was no way I could have known his mother had passed away, but the slight tremble to his lip told me this wasn’t a bluff and that his pain was as raw as mine. His friends were oblivious to his grief, still laughing about how weird this was. John checked his iPhone, not wholly disengaged from whatever business they were conducting here, before promptly putting it away after receiving a hard elbow from his left.

  “All right, Kevin, I am going to grab your hand.” She reached for the man to the right of her, moving things along to break up the tension. I couldn’t look to my left. I sensed Richard’s and who my brain had now convinced me was his dead mother’s eyes pinned on me. “And you grab John’s and so on. We must ask for protection before we begin. When you’re ready, go ahead and close your eyes.”

  I cringed as Richard placed his hand against my increasingly clammy one. I reached for Mom’s, intending to squeeze her again, avenging my stolen night, but the way she grabbed my fingers left me at the mercy of her grip. A long, defeated sigh slipped through my lips as I settled my elbows onto the table and tried my best to get back into character before letting my lids fall closed just as everyone else surprisingly had.

  “This home does not allow evil spirits,” she began. I snuck a peek, noting the way her eyebrows pulled together in concentration, surely trying to remember the script she had almost certainly obtained online. “This home is my domain, and I alone determine what is allowed to pass. These people are under my protection. Friendly souls, I call to you.”

  The cessation of the chant made me feel safer, but the sensible part of me screamed that if there were good spirits, by Newton’s law, there must be evil ones too. I waited for the woman to disappear, maybe in a way thinking Mom’s words would cast her out, and I could blame all of this on the business she ran. It would no longer be me going crazy and just a product of my environment.

  Her figure stayed steady, and my hopes of a quick resolution disappeared in her place.

  Something had changed, though. She was nervous. Her chest rose and fell with more speed as she squeezed Richard’s shoulders like it would convince him to stop before we made it any further. He shifted in his seat, lifting a hand to where hers was, rubbing the same spot like—like he could feel her.

  I gasped, pushing back in my chair.

  “Willow, hush,” Mom snapped, her eyes remaining closed.

  Kevin’s and John’s faces contorted as they tried to hold back their laughs. Their shoulders shook harder as the silence stretched on, not realizing I was shooting death glares in their direction. Richard’s curious eyes sprang open, darting around as if a switch had been thrown, and we were cast into another dimension. I appreciated his lack of humor, even if they all assumed I’d startled myself and not witnessed his hand go through a ghost.

  After a few breaths, Mom opened her eyes and let go of our hands. The rest of the group followed, but I couldn’t concentrate. I suddenly worried we’d already let ghosts into our home, but that same voice yelled at me to think harder. Why was I the only one who could see them?

  Mom placed heavy palms down onto the table and looked at each of us.

  “They’re ready to be called on,” she said monotonously. “Please gently place your fingertips onto the planchette and do not push or pull.”

  After a moment of hesitation, they leaned forward and copied her movement.

  “You as well, Willow,” she urged.

  I suspired, earning me another look, but ultimately leaned forward and found a spot on the cursor to place my own fingers, having no choice other than having my skin brush against Richard’s, who immediately grinned at me. The metal was cool. I expected it to warm up to my touch as we waited for the next instructions, but it turned glacial instead.

  “Is there anyone here with us?” my mother spoke to the air, voice firm, managing to startle us all.

  If they expected a response, they would have been disappointed. Each person around me strained their eyes and held their breath to keep from missing anything. The woman pointed at me, and then Richard, trying to draw my attention. I ignored her and averted my eyes, when he looked behind his shoulder to see what I was staring at. I pretended to be focused on something on the board. Her frantic waving intensified in my peripheral, but I remained stone-faced.

  “Please tell us if you’re here?” she asked again. I peeked at her from the corner of my eyes, surprised to see her expression so serious.

  Her face appeared in front of mine, paralyzing me to my chair. It was like she’d gone straight through the table, but I couldn’t see the bottom half of her body as she took up my field of vision. Warmth burned my nose as a single drop of blood fell to my pants, disappearing in the material. No one noticed my struggle, still searching for what was right in front of me.

  “Tell him.” Her voice was honey smooth, almost frightening me more than her presence itself.

  My tongue would not move as my lips glued themselves together, muting me. I looked toward Richard and she nodded in approval before reappearing next to him. My hands trembled next to his and he smiled in encouragement, misunderstanding my fear.

  “I don’t hear any—” The planchette jumped forward before John could finish. I sucked in a sharp breath, pulling my fingers away as if the metal had instantly charred my skin.

  “No!” my mom said firmly. “Do not remove your hands.”

  I looked at her, asking for an explanation, but none came. I reached back forward and hesitantly placed my fingers where they were before. After another moment, the cursor began to tremble and move up to the word yes. I looked past Richard for his mother, but she was gone, leaving nothing but a light mist to the air as if she’d left in a rush.

  “All right.” Kevin laughed uncomfortably. “Who’s moving it? Is it you, Richard?” He tried to sound unaffected. However, his wild eyes told a much different story. “Don’t be an asshole, man.”

  “No!” Richard replied. “I swear I’m not doing anything!”

  “Yeah, whatever,” John chimed in, looking bored.

  “Dude, I didn’t move it!” Richard was adamant, his cockiness long gone.

  “What’s your name?” My mom stopped the exchange between the three coworkers and spoke with her head tilted toward the ceiling.

  The planchette began to tremble under our touch before slowly moving to the M and then the A, trying to spell out the spirit’s name. Before it could finish, both John and Kevin ripped their hands from it, sitting back heavily into their chairs. My nerves frenzied, but I kept my fingers on the tool, drawn to the board I had just convinced myself was nothing more than a hunk of wood.

  If Richard’s mother could be here without it, could I use it to contact—

  “Nah-uh.” Kevin backed up his chair, the legs catching on the carpet and almost sending him toppling over. “I don’t like this, man.”

  John didn’t add anything but kept his hands to himself, not offering them back to the board.

  “Are you a good spirit?” Richard ignored the two and asked out loud, everyone jumping as the thunderclap shook our home. The white flash of electricity mixed with the now ominous orange hue as it zipped across the sky.

  Without pause, the planchette started working its way toward no, making my heart stutter frantically in my chest, slamming against my ribcage as it tried to escape.

  Richard ripped his hands from the cursor as it slithered across the board unaided, no longer okay with taking part in whatever he’d gotten him and his friends tied up with. That left me. The only person still linked to the board, connecting with whoever was reaching out to us—and I was most certainly not pushing it as it moved over to…yes?

  Just as I sent a quizzical look to Mom, the wind from the storm crashed into the window, blowing the panes open and rain pelted the
carpet like a furry of liquid bullets. The outburst made everyone gasp as the room was cast into darkness, each candle blown out by the gust.

  “Oh, hell no, I’m out!” Kevin screeched at a pitch I didn’t know was possible and, from the sound, jumped from his chair. I was positive at the speed he hit the hanging beads, there would be track marks embedded in the carpet from his shoes.

  Before my mom could object, the other two were up and trying to follow him out. She told me she’d be right back and left me to sit in the dark while she chased after them and the check. She wasn’t about to allow them to get away without paying.

  Thankfully, she switched on the kitchen light, which allowed me to view where I was and my path to the switch on the wall. I was impressed how quickly they found the door in the dark, a skill I was curious how they picked up.

  Richard had been slower to move than his friends. His confident smile nowhere to be found as his eyes stayed frozen wide in shock. He stood on shaky legs and maneuvered himself around the table, ready to get away from this place and never look back. Before he could make it far, I shot forward and snaked a hand out to grab his arm, stopping him from leaving.

  The need nagged at me, threatening to weigh on my conscience as if I’d signed a blood contract.

  “Your mother.” His eyes widened even bigger than before. “She watches over you.” I didn’t know what else to say. She hadn’t exactly given me clear instructions. Was I supposed to say she loved him? Maybe she was proud?

  “You guys are freaks!” He ripped his arm from my hold and made a beeline for the front door.

  I probably deserved that.

  I mean, yeah, that hurt me, but could I blame him? What would I have done in this scenario? If someone came up to me and practically said my dad was hanging around, that he had parting words for me. I don’t know I’d want to know what he’d say to me. To his murderer. Still, to be given a chance to say how sorry I was, beg for his forgiveness. I’d give anything for that.

  The still board caught my eye. Was that how we’d left it?