Some games are only games.

But others come with rules, warnings, and the uneasy feeling that something may be listening from the other side.

In this Short Haunts listener story, Xanthe shares a strange and unsettling account from her childhood in Steveston, British Columbia. Raised in a home where the darker side of life was never far away — with horror films, mourning jewellery, taxidermy, antique clocks, oracle cards and a collection of Ouija boards — she became fascinated by the one object her parents were always reluctant to let her use.

When she finally did, the experience began innocently enough: a birthday sleepover, a board, a planchette, and the familiar question — is anyone there? But what followed slowly became something far more consuming. Heavy footsteps outside a bedroom door, unexplained shadows, hours spent communicating through the board, strange games of hide and seek, and details revealed that Xanthe had no memory of knowing.

Years later, her mother would reveal that during the same period, she had been seeing strange figures in the house — small crouched forms at the edge of her vision, a tall man moving through the hallway, and one chilling detail she could barely process.

Atmospheric, personal and quietly disturbing, this is a story about childhood curiosity, family sensitivity, and the lingering question at the heart of every Ouija board account: when you open the door, do you really know what might come through?

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