Late one Friday night back in 1984 on Mullins Road in Tampa, FL my buddy Ricky, two girls, and I were in my apartment over the garages. We sat in a circle around an Ouija board never imagining the moments that would unfold in front of us. We even added a flickering candlelight to cast eerie shadows around the room, making the atmosphere even more scary. At first, our attempts at connecting with the spiritual realm seemed harmless and playful, until the question, “Is there a spirit here?” was posed.

The planchette jerked violently to “YES”. Suspicion darted through the eyes of each participant. Who was playing a trick? But as our eyes met, genuine confusion mirrored in every gaze.

We hesitantly ventured further, “What is your name?” The board began to spell out – “F-R-E-D”. Given the popular Freddy Krueger films of that era, skepticism ran high; surely someone was jesting? But the ominous tension in the room was palpable as each party seemed genuinely perplexed and even a bit freaked out.

Attempting to communicate further, I inquired, “Is there something you want to share with us, Fred?” The board ominously spelled out, “H-E-L-L I-S H-O-T”. The girls, terror evident in their eyes, made a hasty retreat. Remembering the rules, I insisted we formally say “Goodbye” to the spirit. We collectively voiced our wish to end the session. However, the planchette shot to “NO” with a force that sent chills down our spines. Frantically, we repeated our plea, and with an unnerving speed, it finally slid to “Goodbye”. But this crazy story Is not over.

The following day, a chill ran down my spine as my next -door neighbor, Christie, narrated her own eerie tale about a ghost that she thought she saw a few nights back. Unbeknownst to her about our Ouija encounter, she spoke of a terrifying experience at a friend’s house. She felt an invasive sensation of being watched while changing upstairs at a friend’s house. As she fled the house, she glimpsed a shadowy figure in the window above in the very room she had been in. She then proceeded to tell me that her mother was an avid Ouija board user and that she, on that very night, was speaking with some spirits and asked them the whereabouts of a certain spirit that she had been talking to for years almost nightly. When she blurted out that ‘Fred’ was that spirit’s name my knees went a bit weak. The response she received was equally as terrifying. “Fred is not here; he’s with your daughter.”

The realization hit me like a cold wave: The same entity, Fred, that was standing in the window looking down at Christie could be the same Fred in my bedroom pontificating about how hot hell was. I never told Christie about my incident with Fred and I never touched a Ouija board again.