Page 31 of The Haunting of William Thorn

According to William’s phone, it was almost four o’clock in the morning.

Edward had encouraged him to soak in the bath until he was no longer shaking.

Then Edward dressed William. The action was intimate, and yet Edward never strayed over the invisible line between them.

Warmed within a thick knitted jumper, pyjama bottoms, obnoxious dog-shaped slippers, William was finally warming up.

All that was missing was a hat and a scarf, and William could’ve been that young boy in that film where he flies across the sky with a snowman.

“Have you ever done this before?” William asked as he sat cross-legged on one side of the Ouija board. Edward was kneeling on the other, staring intently down at it as if nothing else in the world mattered.

“Only once before, back in university,” Edward said. “Me and my housemates were drunk and bored, a catastrophic combination. It turned out one of my mates was a self-proclaimed medium in their spare time. I think he actually does it for a career now… last time I checked his socials.”

“I had chocolate wrappers and empty cans of beer beneath my bed at university,” William found himself admitting. “You had tools to commune with the dead.”

“What can I say, I’ve always been eclectic in my interests.”

Edward fussed around with the positioning, ensuring the board was straight. He’d just finished lighting candles across the bedroom, casting the dark room in an ominous glow of orange. From what William had discerned, Edward was the type of person who coped better when he was doing something.

“What did you do?” William asked, trying to divert the topic from the stupid thing they were both about to do.

“Excuse me?” Edward looked up from the board, leaving the overturned glass at the bottom of the board.

“At university, what did you study?”

“I get the impression you are trying to distract me,” Edward wasn’t wrong. “May I remind you that we don’t have to do this if you’ve changed your mind.”

William hadn’t changed his mind, not in the slightest. The more time passed, the more convinced he was that nothing would happen. Hanbury was oddly still, sleeping just as it should be.

“It doesn’t hurt to know a little bit more about the man with who I’m about to open the gates to hell with.”

“Someone really has watched one too many horror films,” Edward said, the whisper of a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Ouija isn’t a gateway to hell. It’s a spirit board, a communication device of kinds to connect with those on the other side.”

“The other side of hell .”

“Really, William? Did you know that hell is just a religious construct used to fear-monger a large group of people into behaving according to someone else’s rules?”

William narrowed his eyes. “Let me guess, you were one of those Theology and Philosophy BA students?”

“Masters, actually.” Edward rocked back, getting himself comfortable on the worn carpet of the bedroom floor. “And yes, I studied at the University of Bath and completed a Masters in London. Turns out, over five years of study in religion gives you a bit of insight into the possibilities of–”

“Haunted manor houses?” William interrupted, already feeling the pins and needles tingling in his toes. He regretted saying no to Edward’s offer of sitting on a pillow.

“Houses, people, objects and many other things, yes.”

“What does a person do with a master’s degree in theology and philosophy anyway?”

With every passing beat, it occurred to William that he really didn’t know anything about the man sitting across from him.

“If I tell you, you’d laugh at me.”

“I’m sat in an alleged haunted house with someone who I hardly know after just being found outside in the rain, digging up the grave of someone who killed themselves here. I think the time of laughing at random things is far behind us.”

“Touché, Will – William.”

“Will is fine,” William said, a strange weight shifting from his shoulders. “I think after what you’ve done for me tonight, that nickname is earned for you to use.”

Even if it reminded me of Archie, even if it hurt me every time you use it.

“All right, Will.” Edward tested the nickname, William almost enjoying the way it sounded on his tongue. “If you really want to know, I went to University to please my dad and make sure that the occupation I’ve always wanted was my own decision and not something the pressure of school put upon me.”

“Dare I ask what occupation that was?”

“Promise no laughing?”

William crossed his heart. “Do I look like someone that laughs a lot?”

“No. Actually, you don’t. And that makes me sad.” Edward seemed to straighten; his chin lifted higher as if he was preparing for a reaction after he answered. “I wanted to be a priest.”

William was highly aware that he was losing control of his face. “A what?”

“You promised!”

He bit down on his lower lip to stifle the giggle that built in his throat. “I didn’t put you down as…”

“Careful, Mr Thorn. Sticks and stones my break my bones, but whatever words are about to come out of your mouth might be the end of me.”

“Priestly,” William fought to keep the laugh in.

“I told you I was eclectic.”

“Religious would’ve been more on the nose.”

“Well, I’m not. I used to be. As you can imagine, those five years at school really put me off the idea.” Before Edward let another question slip out, he asked one of himself. “What did you study?”

“I wouldn’t call it study when I dropped out at the beginning of second year,” William replied.

It wasn’t often that he thought back to his short stint at university.

“I went to master the art of English Literature, but left with a big ego after I got my first book deal, with a well-to-do publisher in my first year. The advance was healthy, so I took the risk and left one dream to pursue another.”

“Advance or no, it’s no wonder you dropped out,” Edward said, mocking a yawn. “I had a friend who studied the same course. She said that if she ever had to read a Charles Dickens novel again, she’d move to a far corner of the world and rebuke books for a lifetime.”

“Sacrilege,” William mock gasped. “Dickens is one of the greats.”

“Great bores.”

“Coming from the man who actually enjoyed reading the Bible.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” Edward said. “Now, who is trying to distract themselves from communing with the other side, me or you?”

“Double touché,” William said, turning his attention back to the board before him. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

“I’ll take the lead. All you need to do is rest the back of your fingers on the bottom of the glass.

Preferably the lightest touch of your fingernails.

That way, by lightly resting your nails, it will be impossible to manipulate the planchet.

You can’t blame me if it moves, and vice versa.

But you must not take your fingers off until we close the communication.

Simple guidelines, but they’re important to follow. ”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

“Captain? I like that.” Edward peaked a single brow, clearly amused by William’s use of words. “Okay, are you ready?”

William swallowed hard, finding his arm heavier as he lifted it into position. “Only if you’re sure this is safe.”

“I can say a little prayer beforehand if you prefer.”

“Knock your socks off,” William said, resting the back of his index and middle finger upon the overturned glass, just as instructed. Edward copied.

As their fingers brushed, a pleasant shiver coursed up William’s arm. He couldn’t help but think about how close the night had made them. Not only the part about communicating with spirits, but the fact Edward had undressed William, dressed him again and all without batting an eyelash.

Edward cleared his throat and bowed his head.

His deep voice fell into pace as he recited a prayer.

It filled every corner of quiet room. William did his best to listen respectfully, all the while sensing that Hanbury was coming alive as if it was repulsed by Edward’s words or recognised them.

Beyond Robert’s bedroom, the walls groaned, and old pipes sang to life.

Creaks and groans felt almost normal to William now, that he preferred the noise of the manor to its silence.

“Coincidence?” William asked, those pleasant shivers turning to cold trembles. “I think not.”

“Old houses talk,” Edward said. “We haven’t even started yet.”

“Then let’s get started before I chicken out.”

Edward rolled his shoulder and clicked his neck, all without taking his fingers from the planchet. “We need to build energy. Follow what I do.”

They began guiding the glass in circles around the centre of the board.

It was actually harder than William imagined it would be, considering his nails did the majority of the pushing.

It took considerable effort to keep up with Edward’s assured and well-practised movements.

William didn’t realise that he was more focused on watching Edward than the board until Edward caught his stare.

“Focus on the board, your intentions. Not me.”

Embarrassed at being caught out, William decided it was better to close his eyes. That way, he’d eliminate the very real, very distracting presence of the man before him. It turned out that closing his eyes didn’t help. All it did was make the subtle touch of their fingers tenfold in feeling.

Edward’s guidance stopped, and the planchet remained motionless in the middle of the board. “Is there anyone with us tonight?”

William felt the need to hold his breath. He didn’t want to miss anything, not even the slightest movements. They waited a few seconds, offering Hanbury the respect of their silence, waiting for something to answer.

The upside-down glass didn’t move.

“Let me rephrase that for you,” Edward said, clearing his voice. “We know someone is here with us tonight, so… I don’t know… reveal yourselves.”

“Isn’t it best we stick to yes or no questions?” William added.