Sinister Effect: The Dark Side of Playing Innocent Games

Growing up in the blistering heat of Las Vegas, we three young sisters were always on the lookout for something to entertain our summer break boredom. You’d think living in Sin City would provide endless amusement for a trio of curious girls, but alas, our adventures often took us to the Psychic Eye Book Store. Despite strict family warnings and a solid Sunday School education, the allure of magic and the mystical arts was as irresistible as Rae’s sugar cookies.

One sweltering morning, at precisely 11:11 a.m., we found ourselves crammed into the mobile home bathroom. The fake wood walls and garish Roman tub made it feel like we were in a kitschy horror film, which, in retrospect, wasn’t far off. I, the eccentric artist of the family, had crafted a Ouija board from the back of a wooden bear painting—a quaint and ironic nod to the innocence we were about to obliterate.

Armed with our homemade tool of terror, we sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor, the static air heavy with our suppressed giggles and nervous anticipation. “Let’s talk to Grandpa,” Rae suggested, her voice quivering with a mix of hope and dread. The planchette moved, seemingly on its own. We dismissed it as a trick of the mind, a figment of our overactive imaginations.

But then, the atmosphere shifted. We asked if we could speak to Grandpa, hoping for a friendly ghostly chat. The planchette bluntly moved to "NO." Still, we pressed on, our curiosity tinged with disbelief. "Is Satan here?" I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt. As if in response, the toilet paper roll spun wildly, unwinding with mechanical precision. We froze, a chill creeping up my spine despite the oppressive heat.

Is Satan really controlling this board?" I ventured, my voice barely a whisper. The shower roared to life, spraying water against the clear door as though it were trying to wash away the sin of our curiosity. We screamed, a chorus of terror, and bolted out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind us like that would somehow contain the darkness we had unleashed.

My logical side kicked in; the Ouija board had to go. In the sweltering heat, we dashed to the dumpster behind the grocery store, tossing the board as if it were radioactive. But that wasn't the end. Strange things began happening to me, the one who had created the board—events too bizarre to recount without sounding like a lunatic. It was as if playing with the board had opened a door I couldn't close, setting my life on a trajectory that was both dark and enlightening, like a twisted fairy tale with no clear moral.

Unexplainable events shadowed me, the creator of that cursed board, for years. Stalkers, calling in the middle of the night knowing my name, and telling me Satan gave them my number. This was when people had pagers and the internet didn’t exist. Weird older men following me in stores and in cars. I always ended up in “can’t explain it, how did this happen, nobody will believe me” situations. It was like being in a horror film I couldn’t escape. We didn’t dare speak of “The Incident” until we were well into our thirties, and even then, the memories sent shivers down our spines.

As adults, we finally acknowledged the darkness we’d danced with in our youth. My path strayed into both ominous and redemptive territories, requiring countless prayers to atone for our childish folly. The experience was a stark reminder: evil doesn’t discriminate by age, and ignorance is not bliss—it’s an invitation.

In reflecting on our youthful naivety, I find the lesson clear: never underestimate the forces that prey on innocence. As the Bible wisely warns us in 1 Peter 5:8, "Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." We must remain steadfast, guiding our children and ourselves away from paths that lead to darkness. The road to righteousness is challenging, but it is the only path that ensures the safety of our souls, a lesson I learned the hard way under the scorching Las Vegas sun. Had we heeded our elders’ warnings, perhaps we would have been spared this haunting chapter of our lives.

---

AUTHOR: God's Biscuits Owner

LOCATION: United States