Don’t be Fooled by Martin Brick

“Why’s your apartment smell like incense?” “I asked Rhea over.” Don cranes his neck into the living room. Deeming it safe he whispers, “Crazy new age lady?” “Yes, she… She wants to help with Mom.” Rhea does indeed. Candles. Incense. Ouija board. “Come on, Jen. I know you don’t believe that shit.” She doesn’t. Or didn’t. But desperation leads to conviction, and as she explains to her brother, “If ever someone needed to talk to the living, it’s Mom, with the way she went.” So the three of them gather around the table in a darkened room. Don didn’t understand why it had to be darkened. They put their fingers on the planchette. “We’d like to speak to the spirit of Helen Bauman. Helen are you here?” Nothing. “Are you going to ring a bell with your toes,” Don taunts. “I’ve seen the Houdini documentaries.” Jenny offers an icy glare, but then the piece moves. YES. Jenny wants to know if it’s really her. “Ask her favorite food.” A – R – T … Artichoke hearts. Jenny’s eyes go wide. Don is still stone faced. “A man comes up to me, says you and dad are hurt. He’s a friend, and he’ll take us to the hospital. But I’m suspicious…” Rhea looks puzzled. Jenny too. But the planchette moves. A – S – H… “Ashtabula?” Jenny gasps. Their password. Never trust a stranger unless he knows… “Okay,” Don admits. “Now you can ask her about what happened.”

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