My grandmother always used to warn me in a trembling whisper, “Never open a doorway you might not be able to close.” I wish I had taken her words to heart. What I’m about to recount is not just a memory—it’s a chilling turning point that stained my life with a darkness that has never truly lifted. From that day forward, I felt something shadowing me, something I could never shake.

This happened during my early twenties, when my soul was already heavy with anguish. I had just buried my daughter, Victoria Anne. The days that followed blurred together in a haze of sorrow and confusion. The world around me warped—sounds dulled, colors faded, and reality drifted by like a haunting dream I couldn’t wake from.

Among our belongings sat a Ouija board, but this wasn’t like the store-bought kind. This board carried an unexplainable weight, radiating an eerie energy that made the hairs on my arms stand up. My family has always had a peculiar magnetism for the paranormal, but this board was something else entirely.

One night, eaten alive by grief and curiosity, my friend and I gathered the courage to use the board. At first, we seemed to contact the spirit of a twelve-year-old boy. But as the planchette slid across the letters, the room’s atmosphere changed—the air grew colder, heavier. An uneasy chill crept up my spine. The innocence faded. I started to sense we were not speaking to a child at all, but something ancient, twisted, and cunning. The more I pressed for answers, the more dread clawed at my heart. I realized, too late, that we had crossed a line and were in grave danger. My vulnerability made me an open target for whatever lingered beyond the veil.

Panic seized me. I flung the board across the room, my voice trembling yet firm as I shouted into the darkness, “You are not welcome here! Leave!” But from that moment onward, it was as if a shadow had seeped into my life, wrapping icy fingers around my every waking moment.

The days that followed spiraled into further despair. My grandparents died soon after, leaving me feeling cursed and alone. Over the next decade, strange and haunting events seemed to stalk me, each one darker than the last—like a shroud cast upon my life, all leading back to the night I opened a doorway I could never truly close.