The Glass That Moved

I was eleven when the glass first moved, though I didn’t understand what it meant then. My name is Elara, and I lived in a creaky old house on the edge of a town that seemed to forget we existed. My brother, Marcus, was seventeen, and my other brother, Julian, was fourteen. My little sister, Tess, was seven. We were a family of five, and our house was a sprawling Victorian with peeling wallpaper and a basement that always smelled of damp earth.

One autumn afternoon, Tess and I were dropped off by our neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, after school. We trudged up the cracked sidewalk, leaves crunching under our feet, and headed for the front porch. As we reached the door, I saw Julian through the big bay window, hunched over the coffee table with his friend, Liam. They were both staring intently at something, their hands resting on a glass that sat in the middle of a dusty board I’d never seen before.

Curiosity piqued, I pushed open the heavy oak door, which creaked loudly, and stepped inside. The smell of old wood and dust filled my nose. Julian looked up sharply, his eyes wide, and then he gave me a pleading look. ‘Don’t tell Mom and Dad,’ he whispered, his voice almost urgent. Tess was already wandering toward the kitchen, oblivious.

I looked at the board again, with its painted letters and numbers, and the glass sitting in the center. It looked old, like something from an antique shop, with a crack running through the middle. ‘What is that?’ I asked, but Julian just shook his head. ‘It’s nothing. Just a game. But you can’t tell anyone, okay?’

I agreed, though a knot of unease tightened in my stomach. I didn’t like secrets, especially ones that made my brother look scared. Over the next few days, I noticed Julian and Liam would often be in the living room after school, their hands on the glass, whispering questions. Sometimes the glass would slide slowly, spelling out words, but I couldn’t see from the hallway. I was too afraid to ask again.

One evening, I couldn’t sleep. I tiptoed downstairs to get a glass of water, and I saw the board still on the coffee table, the glass resting on ‘YES.’ A strange chill ran down my spine. I had the sudden urge to touch it, to see if it was cold. I placed my fingertip on the rim, and the glass shot to ‘NO’ so quickly it almost toppled. I stumbled back, my heart pounding.

I ran back to my room and hid under the covers. I didn’t tell anyone, not even Julian. But the next day, as I was walking home alone (Tess was at a friend’s), I saw a figure standing at the edge of the woods behind our house. It was tall and thin, all in black, its face obscured. It didn’t move, just stood there watching me. I ran the rest of the way home, my lungs burning.

That night, I heard scratching at my window. I pulled back the curtain and saw a hand pressed against the glass, long fingers with too many joints. I screamed, and it disappeared before Marcus could rush in. Marcus comforted me, but I saw the fear in his eyes. He said it was probably a raccoon, but we both knew it wasn’t.

A week later, Liam came over. He looked pale, and his hands were shaking. He told Julian he wanted to get rid of the board, that he’d been having nightmares. Julian laughed nervously, but they decided to try one last time, to say goodbye. They placed the glass on the board, and I hid behind the door, watching.

They asked, ‘Who is there?’ The glass slid to ‘Z.’ Julian’s face went white. ‘Is that you?’ The glass moved to ‘YES.’ Then it spelled out, ‘YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE PLAYED.’ The glass flew across the room and shattered against the wall. Both of them screamed. The lights flickered, and the window blew open, sending papers flying.

From that moment on, things were never the same. Liam refused to come over. Julian became withdrawn, barely speaking. And I, I began to see things. A shadow in the hallway that wasn’t really there. A whisper that called my name in my ear when I was alone. And sometimes, in the corner of my eye, I saw a figure with a faceless face, watching.

One night, I woke up to find Tess standing at the foot of my bed. She was staring at the wall, her eyes vacant. ‘Tess?’ I whispered. She didn’t respond. Then she raised her hand and pointed to the corner of the room. I followed her finger and saw a dark shape, dense and oozing, as if it were made of shadows. It had a mouth that opened to a void, and it spoke in a voice that sounded like my own, but wrong. ‘You let me in,’ it hissed.

I screamed, and Marcus burst in. The shape vanished, and Tess collapsed, sobbing. We called our parents, and they came, but by then, we couldn’t explain. We tried to burn the board, but the fire turned green and died. We buried the board in the yard, but the next morning, it was back on the table, the glass restored.

We moved out of that house three months later. We left everything behind, including the board. But I know it found us. I saw it at the new house, in the attic, covered in dust. And last night, I woke to find the glass moving on its own, spelling out my name. It spelled ‘ELARA.’ I haven’t told anyone. Who would believe me? The glass knows. And it won’t stop until we all pay.