Pushing almost thirty now, I new my thoughts had gone from 86 to now. All this time missed in between, with only stories of religious confusion and satanistic acts.
Being a teenager was about sex, experimentation, and ofcourse drugs. How wonderous those days were I was thinking to myself. I would look back to those days through this haze in my head as I prepared to shower after work. I had remembered the curtains of spirits as they moved through my friends house, because being on acid, was always the vehicle to self use of the Quija. A senseless tool, but always an effective one. Like the instructions say, all one must do is believe, and man did we believe. Once things started to move or disappear, we began to evaluate our actions, and things disolved, as most of our friendships. Their was 13 of us who hung out, and we called ourselves the family in highscool, not knowing of Manson’s like choices of terminology. We thought that because we were a big group, and did everything together, it was a good choice. Well it came to an end, and on with life I went. We kept in touch over the years, each having our own little secret encounters with the supernatural. Still too scared some nights to sleep alone in the dark, because we spent the odd night sitting up talking of those freakish encounters. Playing upon ones fears to see a little life come to the eyes in tears of fear and joy. Well I began to run the water, the room went dead silent. I couldn’t even hear myself breathe. Then it spoke my name. In that immediate instant, leaving the bathroom, with a tear of fear, knowing at thirty the fear is still with me.