****
“The tarot cards foretell of a death in the family Carolyn.” Colleen spoke gently, her voice filling the silence of the room. “Is that why you have returned, to warn us?”
They watched in awe as the planchette moved off the word yes for a brief moment before it quickly returned to the same place.
“That’s a definite yes Rowena.” Colleen interpreted.
Rowena nodded her head in agreement. Her mouth was dry, so dry that her tongue would stick to the roof of her mouth when she tried to swallow the feeling of fear that rose in her throat.
“Who is this warning for Carolyn?” Colleen pressed for answers.
They watched as the planchette raced across the board quickly now, pausing only long enough for the ladies to spell out each letter in a chorus of trepidation.
“R-O-W-E-N-A-W-I-L-L-D-I-E.”
“No. It can’t be true!” Rowena shouted. Her body began to quiver with fear.
“It could be a foretelling.” Colleen paused, turning to look sympathetically at her. “Or it could just be a warning Rowena.”
“Well, don’t just sit there, find out!” Rowena tried to keep her voice lowered.
“Are you able to guide your daughter from this danger Carolyn?” Colleen asked, trying to channel her thoughts and energy towards the board.
The piece slid quickly across the board to the word no in the top right corner. Rowena sucked her breath in hard, trying to remain calm. Colleen had told her that they would have to decipher any messages after their sitting to make proper sense of the spiritual connotations.
“What about your grandson Carolyn, are you guiding him to protect Rowena from this danger?” Colleen waited for an answer to be spelt out on the board but the planchette did not move. “Carolyn is it your spirit that is residing in Simon?”
The table began to shake again causing the candle flames to flicker in the pool of melting wax. The cold chill intensified around them and the damp, musty smell became vile and repugnant. The planchette rattled on the Ouija board as it hurriedly spelt out letters almost too fast for them to keep up with. Around them an icy cold wind whipped over their shoulders, sending the remaining paper napkins that littered the table flying to the floor.
The Long Way Home Page 47
