The Séance

Everyone has heard the mysterious bump in the night. When it happens, the household awakes. Each person from every bedroom has heard the sound and everyone is searching for the answer. The lights are switched on and the dog or the cat is up. What in the world has disturbed our slumber?

On most occasions, the answer is obvious. Something has toppled over and perhaps even broken on the floor. Once the offending object has been identified, and the bump in the night has been dismissed and filed away into the orderly categories of logic, the world of normal physics, and the many cause and effect scenarios that allow our personalities we find relief in plausible explanation – yet another troubling thought can haunt the imagination.

What could cause Aunt Edna’s bequeathed portrait to fall off the wall after years of hanging in the same place, on the same hook, ever since her funeral and she was brought home and immortalized in a place of honor? 

Could the long lost but favorite relative finally have summoned the energy to crossover into the realm of the living? Could everyone have a dear departed waiting in the wings? Waiting for a guide perhaps to light the way over the darkest of hidden bridges that only a few care to consider.

For the Marco Beach Boys and Girls many of these macabre thoughts and considerations arrived one blustery afternoon when the first cold front of autumn swept over Southwest Florida. The Wind Witch of November was early; the temperatures were the coolest in half a year, and the gray and white waves that were pounding the beach seemed to whisper something forgotten; something that in another form might manage to go bump in the night.

A few weeks before, one of the Beach Boys had lost a favorite aunt. This was John, and he almost instantly garnered the nickname Froggy. He became Froggy because of the large and bulging sunglasses he wore.

With all of us huddled in the beach hut and the last of the hotel guests hustling in after sunset, Froggy shook his head. “I keep thinking about Aunt Edna.” He confessed, “She was my favorite. She was there at every holiday and every family celebration. I feel like she is still there - or maybe here - trying to say something.”

“To say something, perhaps from beyond the grave?” This was from the Surf Chief who taught windsurfing. Everyone laughed as we packed up for the day. Everyone but Adriana.

Adriana was our latest intern. She arrived from Belarus earlier in the summer and with the break in the weather, the exotic but beautiful young lady from Minsk seemed to be reaching out.

As we were walking up from the beach, Adriana began speaking more than she had all summer and everyone began to listen. Her Eastern European accent was strong, but her words were clear and haunting. She began by relating the bump in the night as a reality. As a call for help. A call from the beyond.

By the time, we as a group, with Adriana in the center, crossed Collier Boulevard and began heading into the parking lot our new friend from far and away offered to host a séance. Adriana from Belarus, with the wild dark hair, was offering to reach out to Froggy’s dearly departed aunt as a medium.” “I have this gift,” The young woman who looked very much like a gypsy explained. “My grandmother was also blessed with the gift to see, but not my mother. The gift only comes to women, but it always passes over one generation. For this generation I am the woman chosen.”

After agreeing to meet in Goodland where Adriana was living alone, we met our mysterious Marco Beach Girl at one of the oldest wooden buildings on the island.

“I asked to use the upstairs,” Adriana shrugged and explained with her accent. “It is no problem for me.”

After climbing the creaking steps and the six of us gathering around a table in the aging building that was not yet open for season, Adriana lit six candles in an old-style candelabra and placed the glowing flames in the center of the round table top.

When all of the Beach Boys placed a beer on the table, Adriana shook her head. “This is not a football game. This is not for drinking beer. Where we are about to go is a special place and perhaps dangerous. Women like me were once considered witches. For ages, women like me were punished for conjuring.”

After her steadfast gaze in the candlelight brought every beer but one off the table, our cowboy Beach Boy Timmy stood up and picked up the last beer on the table. “I’m out of here,” he drawled.” This is too damned creepy for me. If I stay for this I won’t sleep for a week.”

No one said a word when Timmy finished his beer, crossed into the shadows, and started down the stairs. Before Timmy closed the door, one of the candles sputtered and went out. Now there were only five flames burning.

After Adriana ordered our group of five to hold hands, she began with words that sounded Russian. When she switched back to English, she called for Froggy’s aunt to make herself known. When, surprisingly, Adriana used Froggy’s first, middle, and last name, we all looked to one another in the candlelight.

Our medium then asked if there was anyone at the table who did not believe. Before anyone could answer, something bumped or fell over in the room below. After the bump in the near darkness, another candle flickered suddenly and went out. Now there were four flames burning and everyone had sweating palms.

When the second candle snuffed out, a concerned Beach Boy broke the chain of hands when he stood up and declared. “I’m with Timmy on this one, I’m out! Sorry Froggy, but I don’t need to meet Aunt Edna.”

After the second Beach Boy crossed into the shadows, opened the door, and started down the stairs a third wick in the candelabra flickered and winked out.

As the sweating palms of the remaining beach Boys and Girls were reluctantly reunited, Adriana called for Aunt Edna to make herself known. This was when the fourth candle died and the two remaining flames seemed to gather height and strength.

Abruptly Froggy whispered. “I can smell her. I can smell the perfume she wore - just like it was yesterday! Just like when I was a kid!”

Before another word was possible, the last two candles abruptly snuffed out, the room was cloaked in darkness, and the closed windows to the musty room were awash with the sound of rushing water.

Everyone at the table dropped hands and stood at once. The windows were shaking. The sound of rushing water on the panes of glass grew louder and more defined and even more terrifying until we switched on the lights and realized it was real water gushing aloft onto the second story windows. Real water from real water hoses spayed on the windows from ground level by our two missing Beach Boys that fled the séance. Later, when we gained the ground after the last of the creaking steps, no one wanted to talk about the flames that went out one by one or the perfume from Aunt Edna. 

Happy Halloween Marco, Goodland, and Isles of Capri!

Tom Williams is a Marco Islander. He is the author of two books: “Lost and Found” and “Surrounded by Thunder - the Story of Darrell Loan and the Rocket Men.” Both books are available on Kindle and Nook.