Some years ago, during my time at university, my neighbours were three lads around my age. Over time, we became good mates. One day, one of their sisters decided to play with a Ouija board alongside a few friends, and that was how they summoned a child—let’s call him Alfie for this tale.
Alfie told them he’d been on his way to heaven but, hearing their call, thought staying sounded more interesting. After that, they tried more than once to persuade him to move on, but he always refused. At first, we only heard stories from those three girls about their supposed encounters with Alfie.
None of the rest of us had seen or heard anything, so we found it hard to believe them. Still, my friends had a strange habit—every time someone visited, they’d ask Alfie not to scare them, promising they’d play with him once the guest had left. It was like a ritual, repeated with every visitor.
One afternoon, the four of us were sitting in the lounge chatting. It must’ve been around four or five when a ball began rolling slowly down the hallway, coming to a stop at one of their feet. I saw it but pretended not to notice. I told myself it might’ve been the wind—or at least, I wanted to believe that. My mate picked up the ball with a grin and gently rolled it back down the hall.
About fifteen or twenty minutes later, the ball rolled back again… right to his foot. This time, I’d been watching the hallway closely, desperate to see if there was any—
