Ouija Board, Some Alcohol, and Lots of Blood

From: Mushmouth (thelickofmyspoon@hotmail.com)
Story type: Channeling
Location: Calgary, Alberta
Source: Form Submission
Date submitted: Wed May  9 03:12:44 2007

This story took place about three years ago, I was living in a cheap apartment building in the scumbag part of town with my younger brother. We had been taking an interest in the paranormal and been inactively searching for a ouija board for a couple of years but without any success.

One day I came across one in the most unlikely of places; the toy department of Sears. As chance would have it, we had a party the day previous and the apartment was still full of dozens of half-empty bottles of cheap wine and a whole lotta rye. We were really excited about finding a ouija board and started bragging to our idiot neighbours that we were going to have an alcohol-fuelled seance to try it out.

Our building manager overheard our ranting and told us that two years ago there was a murder-suicide in the abandoned apartment opposite my apartment in the basement (that would explain why our rent was so low) and offered to lend us the keys for a couple of hours if we promised not to tell the landlord. My brother brought over a camcorder to video the experience and I supplied a few candles for dramatic effect. While setting up we found some of the dead guy's letters to his ex-girlfriend in and around the abandoned apartment (this guy was in horrible pain) and set them beneath the candles we had around the ouija board.

We started recording the seance and figured it to a load of crap after the first few hours as nothing was happening. To make it more interesting we started to drink heavily and joke around about the dead guy's apartment. My brother started begging for the dead guy to give us a sign, them we started taunting him, I made some remarks about how the world was better off without him and my brother began burning his letters on camera in between taking shots but nothing happened. I tied to provoke the spirit by saying, "Come on, make the walls bleed", like they did on the Simpsons. We unanimously agreed it was a total failure, packed up and returned home.

As I entered my bedroom the walls were covered in a pinstripe pattern of streaks of fresh red blood. They had no source, they all started at the top of the wall where it connects to the ceiling and ran down to the floor but not actually touching. I was so freaked out that I got shots of it on the camcorder and washed it off immediately. I remember that each streak was about a quarter of an inch wide and perfectly spaced between the next streak of blood, trust me it wasn't paint, it washed off like blood. A few hours later we slept, when we woke the next morning, the blood had reappeared and was still wet.