Sometimes, Kids do Stupid Things.

And sometimes, kids let stupid things happen through their inaction.

When I was younger-- maybe nine or ten-- a girl moved in down the block. This girl's name was Lissa. Well, it was probably Melissa, but I only knew her as Lissa.

Lissa was cool. Unspeakably cool. Her mother let her do whatever she wanted. Lissa was only a couple years older than me, and she didn't have a curfew. I was too young to understand that this was probably a result of bad parenting. I'd lived with my parents who wouldn't even let me cross the street by myself all my life. Hell, when I'd run halfway down the street to go play with another neighbor of mine, my mother would watch from the front porch like a hawk. So in my young and unadjusted mind, this older, rebellious girl was a badass.

Lissa and I hung out a few times. Everything was awesome.

One day, Lissa came over to my house to play. My older sister wasn't home. Lissa had a fantastic idea.

Lissa wanted to play with a Ouija board.

I didn't know what a Ouija board was-- and I assured her I didn't have any such thing in my possession. I was politely confused but desperately curious.

So Lissa left. My mother had gone to the store, and my father was puttering around outside. When Lissa returned, she had a black sharpie, scissors, and a large piece of cardboard.

And, on the floor in my room, Lissa constructed a homemade Ouija board. It was around that time, looking at the deceptively innocent-looking piece of cardboard laying on my floor, that I began to get a bad feeling. I asked her what the Ouija board was for-- what it did-- what kind of game lacked dice, chutes, ladders, or brightly-coloured fake money.

When Lissa told me that a Ouija board let you ask questions and talk to ghosts, all the hair on my arms stood up. This was sounding more and more like a terrible idea, and I was quickly growing sure that I wanted no part of this. However, Lissa, being older and cooler, was in charge. I didn't dare tell her that I didn't want to talk to dead people, because then she would think I was lame and wouldn't want to hang out anymore.

So Lissa and I hunched over the Ouija board and she started asking questions. I distinctly remember feeling sick as the piece of cardboard she'd cut out to be the planchette started moving to letters and numbers. I don't know if Lissa was pushing it or if it was actually moving on its own, and to this day, I really don't care.

I don't remember what she asked or what the answers were, but I know that when I heard my mother walk into the house carrying the groceries, I was unspeakably relieved. Lissa told me not to tell my mother about the Ouija board and to hide it. I did exactly as she instructed.

Lissa went home and a few days passed without incident.

However, it needs to be said that I am just terrible at hiding things.

My mother found the Ouija board and, understandably, freaked out. What followed was a long line of her angry questioning and me sobbing uncontrollably as I ratted Lissa out like a coward. I didn't even feel bad for doing so. I wanted to wash my hands of the whole affair and be free from talking to dead people.

My mother, thankfully, believed me, and told me that I wasn't in trouble, but that I wasn't allowed to hang out with Lissa anymore. I wasn't even that upset about it. Frankly, I'd started to realize that maybe Lissa was just a lunatic with parents who didn't care if she stayed out til 11 at night and spent her time talking to ghosts.

I've not seen Lissa since then. I'm okay with that-- especially because I now know what Ouija boards are actually capable of. The world of the paranormal greatly interests me, but I can safely say that I certainly don't bring Ouija boards along with me to possibly-haunted locations. As a matter of fact, I haven't laid a finger on one. Parker Brothers is stupid for deciding that those things needed to be made into a kids' toy.