Ouija
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didn’t think he was going to pretend the whole time, like as if that coin’s verdict got into his head.
It was almost six in the morning. He would have reached home. So I decided to call his home. The call was connecting. Just then I noticed something. I picked up the wooden plank that used to defend myself a few minutes ago. It had a few numbers and letters on it. It was the very same Ouija board on which his death was predicted. I found myself smiling, in spite of the pain all over my body. His mom answered. The smile faded as soon as I heard his mom’s words. Deva was certainly right about one thing all along: Anything that happens anywhere in the world is simply random. May be there was no Karma or a supernatural force that governs over us. I looked at the Ouija board; suddenly everything seemed faded but for five letters in the Ouija board and they cried to me one word. D-E-A-T-H.
Nitharsha Prakash (November 12, 1993) is from Sivakasi, India. He studies medicine at a college in Pondicherry, India. He did his schooling from Monftort School, Yercaud, India. This is his first professional short story and is interested in writing novels in the future