The Board in the Backyard

Things have been strange lately. It began when my son and his buddy found an old talking board in the attic. My partner let them use it. They spent an afternoon laughing and pushing the pointer around, and I thought little of it.

Then I tried it. I lost my mother when I was young, and my brother more recently, so I hoped to reach them. The pointer moved on its own, spelling out answers. A cold dread filled me, and I immediately took the board and left it in the yard.

Later, my partner was washing dishes and heard a soft, grunting sound from the hallway. I was not home. Now, small items vanish and reappear in odd places. A quiet unease has settled over our home.