The Frozen Lake at Grayling House

The first time I tried the planchette was a month ago, in a drafty cabin on the edge of Lake Grayling. My friends and I had rented it for a winter weekend, hoping for snow and silence. There were five of us: Finch, who organized everything; Mira, who laughed too easily; Jonas, who claimed he’d done this before; Ruth, who kept her skepticism close; and me, Ada. The cabin was old, with a stone fireplace and a warped wooden floor, and the lake outside had frozen solid, a white expanse under the pale sky. Jonas had brought a homemade board, just a piece of plywood with letters painted in black, and a cracked glass coaster for a pointer. We gathered around the coffee table after dinner, the only light from the fire and a few candles. Jonas, Ruth, and I placed our fingertips on the glass. We asked, ‘Is anyone here?’ The glass didn’t move. After ten minutes, we gave up, laughing it off. Ruth said, ‘It’s just a game, you know.’ But I felt a cold spot near my knee, like a draft from a window that wasn’t there.

The second time was back in the city, at Finch’s apartment. Only Finch, Mira, and I were there. Finch brought out the same board, though it looked older now, the paint peeling. We set it on his coffee table, which was smooth glass, not plywood, so any movement would be obvious. I was nervous, but Mira was eager. We all placed our fingers on the coaster. I asked, ‘Is anyone here?’ The glass jumped to ‘YES’ so fast that it almost left our fingers. Then it moved again, to ‘WHO’. We all looked at each other. No one was pushing; we were all too shocked. Mira whispered, ‘Who… are you?’ The glass spelled out ‘E-L-S-P-E-T-H’. I didn’t recognize the name. Finch went pale. He said, ‘That’s my grandmother’s name. She died in that cabin. She drowned in the lake.’ We all pulled back from the board. Finch was shaking. He said, ‘I didn’t tell you this, but the cabin is in the family. I’ve been there every winter. Last year, I dreamt of a woman in a white dress walking on the ice, and she pointed at the spot where the ice was thin. I hadn’t thought of it since.’

We tried to dismiss it as coincidence. But over the next week, strange things happened. I would wake up at 3:33 AM, hearing the sound of water dripping, though the pipes were silent. Finch said he saw his grandmother’s reflection in his bathroom mirror, but when he turned, no one was there. Mira found frost on the inside of her window, in the shape of a hand, even though the apartment was warm. We became paranoid. We decided to go back to the cabin, to understand, to maybe bury the board there and end it. Finch, Mira, and I drove up on a Friday. The lake was still frozen, but the ice looked darker near the center. We arrived at dusk.

That night, we set up the board again in the living room. We wanted to ask Elspeth what she wanted. The fire crackled. We placed our fingers on the glass. I asked, ‘Elspeth, are you here?’ The glass slid to ‘YES’. Then it spelled ‘BEARER’. We didn’t understand. ‘Bearer of what?’ Mira asked. The glass spelled ‘CHILD’. Finch’s face went white. He said, ‘My mother told me that my grandmother had a stillborn baby. She buried it under the floorboards of this cabin, because she wouldn’t let anyone take it. She said it was a secret.’ We all looked at the floor. The wood was old, with gaps between the planks. I felt a faint vibration through my feet.

Suddenly, the lights flickered. The fire went out with a hiss. We were plunged into darkness, but the glass on the board began to glow faintly, like it was lit from within. We pulled our hands away, but the glass kept moving. It spelled, ‘LIE WITH ME’. We heard a creak from the corner of the room, where the floorboard was slightly raised. I felt a cold breath on my neck. I turned, but no one was there. Mira screamed. She was pointing at the window. A woman’s face pressed against the glass, pale and dripping with water. Her eyes were black. She mouthed, ‘Come down’. The ice cracked. We heard a deep groan, like the lake was breaking. The cabin started to shake. The floorboards splintered, and a dark, wet hand reached up from below.

We ran. We grabbed our coats and rushed out the back door, into the freezing night. The lake was a white plain, and the woman was now on the ice, standing in the middle, beckoning. The ice under her was clear, and we could see something beneath—a small bundle wrapped in white, sinking slowly. Finch was sobbing. He said, ‘She wants me to take her place. She wants me to join the baby.’ Mira pulled him toward the car. We drove away, not looking back. But as we reached the main road, I checked the rearview mirror. The cabin was gone, but I saw a figure standing on the shore, wearing a white dress, holding a child’s hand. And I knew—wherever we went, Elspeth would find us. Because we had opened the door, and we had left it open.

That was a month ago. I haven’t slept since, not really. I see her in my dreams, walking across the frozen lake, always pointing. And sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I see the glass on my nightstand move, just a little, spelling ‘SOON’. I’m writing this because I know I don’t have much time. If you find my body, don’t bury me. Burn me. Because I’ll come back, just like she did. And I don’t want to be alone.