Quick Tales

In the quiet town of Meadowgrove, nestled between undulating hills and a whispers-thin river, stood the ancient Oakley Manor. The manor was known for its eerie history and haunting legends, which made it an irresistible draw for paranormal investigator, Dr. Elara Vespera. Elara had spent her life chasing ghosts, seeking evidence of the afterlife, and debunking fraudulent claims. Her latest investigation led her to Oakley Manor, where rumors spoke of a portal to the spirit world.

Elara arrived at dusk, the manor looming before her like a gargantuan beast from a bygone era. She was greeted by Mrs. Hargrove, the current owner, who led her through the creaking halls adorned with faded tapestries and antique furniture. The air was heavy with dust and an underlying scent of decay.

"The séance room is this way," Mrs. Hargrove whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "It's been locked for years. Only the bravest—or most foolish—have dared to enter."

Elara followed her down a narrow staircase into the basement. The séance room was dimly lit by flickering candles, casting long shadows on the walls. A large round table dominated the space, surrounded by eight chairs. An ornate Ouija board lay at the center, its planchette resting eerily in the middle.

Mrs. Hargrove handed Elara a small leather-bound journal. "My great-aunt used to conduct séances here. She recorded her experiences in this journal."

Elara flipped through the yellowed pages, scanning the meticulous handwriting. The last entry read: *The veil grows thin. I fear what may come through.*

As Elara prepared for the séance, she felt an unusual chill run down her spine. She dismissed it as a draft and continued setting up her equipment—EMF meters, infrared cameras, and audio recorders. Once everything was in place, she took a deep breath and placed her hands on the planchette.

"Is there anyone here?" she asked softly, her voice echoing in the silence. The planchette remained still. She repeated the question, her heart pounding in her chest. This time, the planchette began to move, gliding smoothly across the board.

*YES,* it spelled out.

Elara's breath hitched. "Who are you?"

The planchette moved again, forming letters one by one: *ELIAS.*

She frowned. "Elias? Who is Elias?"

*HE WANTS TO COME HOME,* the board spelled out. Elara's pulse quickened as she felt a sudden drop in temperature. The room grew colder, and the candles flickered wildly.

"What do you mean by 'come home'?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The planchette moved faster now, spelling out words with urgent intensity: *HE IS LOST. HE NEEDS GUIDANCE.*

Elara felt a strange tugging sensation in her chest, as if something was trying to pull her towards the board. She resisted the urge and asked, "Where is he lost?"

*BETWEEN WORLDS,* the planchette replied. Elara's heart pounded like a drum in her ears. She could feel an unseen force pushing against her, trying to break through.

Suddenly, the room went dark. The candles extinguished simultaneously, leaving Elara in utter darkness. Panic surged within her, but she fought to remain calm. She reached into her pocket for a flashlight and switched it on, illuminating the room once more.

The planchette was no longer on the board. Instead, it hovered mid-air, spinning slowly. Elara stared in disbelief as a faint blue light began to emanate from the center of the room. The light grew brighter and more intense, forming a shimmering portal that pulsated with otherworldly energy.

Elara backed away, her breath coming in short gasps. She could feel the presence of something—or someone—behind the veil. It was strong, powerful, and overwhelmingly sad. A deep longing resonated within her, a profound sense of loss that seemed to echo through time itself.

She took another step back, her foot catching on something solid. She looked down and saw the planchette lying at her feet. As she bent to pick it up, she noticed a small, intricate symbol etched onto its surface—a symbol she had seen before in her dreams.

A sudden surge of courage flooded through her. She stood up straight, clutching the planchette tightly in her hand. "I'm here to help," she said, her voice steady and determined. "Show me what you need me to see."

The portal pulsated again, and a figure began to take shape within its glow. It was a man, tall and gaunt, with haunted eyes that seemed to hold the weight of centuries. His clothes were tattered and stained, but there was something noble about his bearing. He looked at Elara with an expression of such profound gratitude that it brought tears to her eyes.

"Elias?" she whispered. The figure nodded slowly, reaching out a hand towards her. She hesitated for a moment before taking a step forward and placing her hand in his.

A wave of emotion crashed over her—grief, sorrow, loneliness, and despair. It was overwhelming, yet somehow comforting. She could feel Elias's pain, his longing to be reunited with someone he had lost. As their hands touched, the portal began to shrink, its light dimming until it disappeared completely.

Elara let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She looked down at the planchette still clutched in her hand and saw that the symbol had faded away, leaving no trace behind.

She turned to leave but paused when she heard a soft whisper behind her. "Thank you," it said, barely audible. She spun around, scanning the room for any sign of Elias, but there was nothing—only empty shadows and flickering candles.

As Elara made her way back upstairs, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something had changed within her. She had seen the spirit world with her own eyes, felt its sorrow and pain, and helped guide a lost soul home. It was an experience she would never forget—one that would forever alter her perception of life, death, and everything in between.

Back in her hotel room later that night, Elara opened the leather-bound journal once more. She flipped through the pages until she found the last entry: *The veil grows thin.* Below it, she added her own words: *And so does the line between belief and disbelief.*

She closed the journal, a sense of peace washing over her. She had spent her life chasing ghosts, seeking evidence of the afterlife, and now she knew—there was more to this world than meets the eye. And perhaps, just perhaps, there was a place for everyone in the shadows of Elysium.