Call of Duty Oneshots (Mostly Ghost)

cursed.

"Hello?"

You ask as your fingertips barely touch the wooden, weathered-down planchette, feeling stupid for asking such a basic question to open up the conversation. Having seen enough horror movies to know that such a simple question led to a quick demise, the words slip out anyway.

Sat in the middle of your apartment's living room, cross-legged on the floor with your partner begrudgingly joining you. The night's shadows stretch across the candle-lit room, the dim glow of the flickering flames giving both of your composed faces an orange glow of eerie uncertainty.

"Nice one," Simon teases you, his fingers lightly hovering above the same device across you. Even with about half of his face shrouded in horribly lit candlelight, you can still see his brow arch in amusement.

Neither of you notices the minuscule flicker of the planchette, both of you preoccupied with either sticking a tongue out or giving the other a mischievous smirk that the small movement goes unnoticed.

"Shut up," you mutter as your attention returns to the board.

He has never believed in ghosts or the supernatural so when you find an old Ouija board in your mother's attic, you're right in thinking he'd be suspicious of why you're asking him to try it out with you in the first place.

Light blue eyes flickered from you to the dusty box in your arms and then back to you before speaking, "You know I don't believe in that kinda stuff..."

"I know, I know, but I know for a fact that none of my friends will wanna play. Please? Just one time, Si?"

Your puppy-dog pout won him over, and you waited until the Witching Hour to open up the veil to the spiritual realm, something you don't quite believe in, either. For shits and giggles, though, you wanted the best possible outcome no matter how badly it made you piss your pants in the long run.

"Ask somethin' else," Simon encourages you, unsure of where to even start. "'Hello'," he mocks the way you had spoken that one silly word, "was stupid. Try again."

"Fine, fine," you huff, adjusting your sitting position.

Your spine tingles from the tense air that breezes past you, and you chalk it up to it being late, your superstitious beliefs washing away doubt. There's the fact that it's late, too, that makes you believe that your mind is simply susceptible to an over-exaggerated imagination.

You decide on an inquiry that could prompt a 'yes' or 'no'. Easy enough, right? "Is there anyone here with us?"

Peering up at Simon, you give him a look as if to say: 'Is that better for you?'

He shrugs his shoulders: 'Better than 'hello'.'

The hairs on the back of your neck lift as the soft sweep of wood against wood breaks the silence between the two of you, and both pairs of widened eyes watch the eye of the planchette head to the upper left corner.

"YES."

As if someone had breathed against the baby infernos, making the flames tremble, taunting you to extinguish your only light source. You know it's not either of you whose breath puffed heavily enough to make the candles react that way as both of your lungs are stuck mid-inhale.

"That was totally you!" You hiss at Simon who shakes his head furiously.

"No, sod off, [Y/N]. I ain't movin' this thing." He glances back at the board. "Ask it somethin' else."

Even though the uneasiness has tensed up your shoulders, you ease back into asking whoever has arrived to speak. "What's your name?"

The entity pauses before answering, its movements a bit quicker when it finally does reply. Yours and Simon's eyes widen with surprise as you both realize that the planchette is floating across the board a bit too quickly and effortlessly to be either of you commanding it.