Talking boards are creepy, but what if they were also annoying?
“Look, when I ordered a talking board this wasn’t what I meant.”
“Well sweets, tough luck.” The ouija board said, though not using the planchette as Layla had hoped but through a gaping hole in it’s centre that vaguely looked like a mouth. “I’m just as they described me on the website ‘Talking Board’ what did you expect?”
“A silent ouija board,” Layla answered. “One that would only answer when I used this on it.” She waved the planchette delicately in her manicured pink nails. She looked at her phone and scrolled through her order history, “Is there an exchange policy for this thing?”
“No exchange because there’s nothing wrong with me,” the board said. “I can do all the things those pretentious boards can do except I’ll tell you right then and their what a spirit means, you don’t have to write down anything from a shaky old planchette.”
“Look, it’s not you,” except that it was very much the board, but Layla was trying to be nice. “I’m just a more traditional witch you know, I’m not into all these modern fads.”
“I am not a fad missy,” the board said. “I am top of the line, state of the art ouija and I’m as best as they come. Face it toots, you won’t find another as good as me.”
“Yeah yeah, we’ll see about that.” she scrolled through her phone. “I bet I could sell you online and get a pretty penny to buy a board I actually wanted.”
The board was afronted, “You wouldn’t!”
“Well, you are so esteemed. I’m sure many witches would want to buy you off of me,” she continued scrolling. “See, someone here has been asking about a talking board, she’s been desperate for one for months. I’ll just send her a message-”
The board started singing then, loud and off-tune and it sent the hairs on the back of Layla’s neck up. She yelled at the board to stop but it kept singing. She plugged her ears and waited for it to stop and when it finally did it pleaded, “Please just give me a spin? I promise I’m a good talking board even if it’s not what you expect.”
Layla cracked her neck and stared at the board, then at her clock which read just after midnight. “Fine. Just one little spirit calling since it’s the witching hour and that’s it.”
“Perfect,” the board said and sounded so much more calm and controlling. “Who would you like to talk to?”
“I don’t know,” Layla said and her lips twitched into a small smile. “Surprise me.”
Sarah O'Connor 