By Gary Val Tenuta

The following is Part-2 of a multi-part true story adapted exclusively for The Paranormal Report from the author’s ebook on CD, The Secret of Nine . It is a story about a series of Ouija board sessions which began much like many Ouija stories, recounting tales of communication with the spirits of the dearly – and some not-so-dearly – departed souls. This story, however, took a most unexpected turn when a list of strange words began to appear and suddenly the three participants – of which this author was one – found themselves fully immersed in a series of communications with ETs. Not dead, dearly departed ETs, mind you. No. These ETs were quite alive and well – thank you - living on a planet called Grek-5 in a dimension they described as being “…in your future time.” Sound strange? Improbable? Impossible? Unbelievable? Or was it all something quite different than what it appeared to be? Here’s Part-2 of the story. Decide for yourself.

Automatic Writing

We were seated around the dining room table; Tom on one side, Edie and I on the other. By this time we were old pros at this other world communication stuff. We had graduated to a means of communication known as automatic writing. Again, it was Edie, we discovered, who was able to do this. So when the Ouija board informed us that the late, great poet, Robert Frost, was with us, we decided to grab the ol’ pencil and paper. Now, you have to understand when Edie did this automatic writing it was not she who was doing the writing. Rather, it was someone or something else that was doing the writing through her. Or at least that’s the theory. But, while we had done this several times before, she had never entered into a trance state. She always seemed to be fully conscious during the session even though she felt exhausted afterwards. This time was different, although we didn’t realize it until the session was over.

The Poetry Man Cometh

Edie put the pencil to the paper and began to write. It was remarkable. Poetry flowed onto the paper in the recognizable style of Robert Frost. (We still were not sure how any of this was happening let alone what exactly was taking place during these unbelievable sessions. At the moment, we were supposedly witnessing the creation of never-before-seen poems by the late Robert Frost. Even more remarkable, each poem was signed! The next day, Tom took a copy of one of the signatures to the library and was able to locate a copy of Robert Frost’s actual autograph for comparison. He said they were very similar.) I was smoking a cigarette during this session and at one point Edie stopped writing and reached over and took the cigarette out of my hand.

“Do you mind?” she asked, directing the question to me.

I was taken a bit by surprise, not because she took the cigarette, but because she asked if I minded. As long as I had known her and as many times as she had taken drags off my cigarettes, not once had she ever asked me if I minded because she knew I didn’t.

She took a drag off the cigarette, handed it back to me and continued to write.

We asked if this was really Robert Frost with whom we were communicating and why had he come to us this night? Through Edie’s hand the answer was written. Yes, it said, it was indeed Robert Frost and he was there because, as he put it, “I enjoy your company”.

I don’t know how long this session went on, perhaps an hour, maybe longer. Finally, Mr. Frost said he had to leave now and he thanked us for allowing him to stay for that short time.

Edie laid the pencil on the table and I noticed she was starting to lean to the side, away from me. Before I realized what was happening, she was falling from her chair. I reached out to grab her but I was too late. I moved the chairs out of the way and knelt down beside her as she lay on the floor, apparently unconscious. I shook her gently and spoke her name. She opened her eyes and was surprised to find herself on the floor. Apparently she had been in a trance the entire time. She had no memory of having taken a drag off my cigarette and certainly no memory of asking me if I minded! She was only vaguely aware of having just written some poetry. The whole thing was straight out of the Twilight Zone. It was a night I’ll never forget. But there was more to come.

Who’s That Knocking At My Door?

One night we were working the Ouija board by candle light which was provided by one of those glass encased candles about three inches in diameter and about six or seven inches tall, about the size of a typical eight ounce drinking glass. The candle had burned down to a point where the flame was perhaps an inch below the ridge of the glass. The glass itself was a deep red and the flame within provided an eerie glow about the room. It was a perfect setting for a séance. I don’t remember what we were getting from the Ouija board, but it was working fine. All was well, and we were snacking on chips and having a good time. Then suddenly the board spelled out, HELL IS MY PALACE. I AM AT YOUR DOOR. LET ME IN.

(To be continued in Part-3)

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