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Curse of the Mentalist



Fictional Story by Andrew deRuiter


In the dimly lit parlor of a grand Victorian mansion in the autumn of 1918, Professor Andrew deRuter (D-right-r), a renowned mentalist, prepared to hold a seance unlike any other he had ever conducted. His reputation as a master of the supernatural had drawn people from far and wide to witness his extraordinary abilities. Tonight, however, the professor's confidence was waning, for he was about to confront a series of predictions that had haunted his dreams for months.

The room was adorned with ornate burgundy velvet curtains, heavy wooden furniture, and flickering candles that cast eerie shadows on the walls. A small group of eager participants, each dressed in their finest attire, gathered around a circular table adorned with an antique Ouija board. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the first drops of rain began to patter against the mansion's windows.

As the séance began, Professor deRuiter closed his eyes, his long fingers gently resting on the edge of the board. His deep voice resonated through the room as he called upon the spirits of the past. "Spirits, reveal to us the secrets of history," he intoned, his words echoing in the dimness.

Suddenly, the atmosphere grew colder, and the candles flickered wildly, casting eerie dancing shadows on the participants' faces. A shiver ran down the professor's spine, but he pressed on, determined to face the predictions that had plagued him.

The Ouija board's planchette began to move, spelling out cryptic messages. "War," it spelled, and the room seemed to tremble with an unseen force. Professor deRuiter's heart raced as he realized that this was the first prediction, one that had already come true. The Great War had ravaged Europe, just as he had foreseen in a previous seance.

But there was more to come. The planchette continued to move, spelling out dates and places that chilled the professor to his core. It revealed the sinking of the Titanic, the outbreak of the Spanish flu, and other tragic events that had occurred over the past few years. Each prediction had been made during private seances, and each had come to pass with eerie accuracy.

As the professor's mind reeled from the weight of these revelations, a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the room, revealing the faces of the participants, twisted in fear. Thunder shook the mansion, and a loud crash sounded from upstairs, as if something heavy had fallen.

In that moment, a cold gust of wind swept through the parlor, extinguishing the candles and plunging the room into darkness. Panic spread among the participants as they fumbled for matches to relight the candles. In the dim light, Professor deRuiter's face appeared ashen, his once-confident demeanor shattered.

Then, a voice echoed through the darkness, a voice that was not of this world. It spoke the professor's name, chilling him to the bone. "Andrew," it whispered, and the professor recognized the voice as that of his long-deceased wife, Eleanor.

Eleanor's ghostly figure materialized before him, her eyes filled with sorrow. "You meddle with forces you do not understand," she said, her voice trembling. "These predictions are a curse, and they will consume you."

Tears welled up in Professor deRuiter's eyes as he reached out to touch his beloved wife, but his hand passed through her ethereal form. The participants screamed in terror as the room filled with a cacophony of ghostly whispers and shadowy apparitions.

In the chaos that followed, the professor's sanity unraveled. He realized too late that his gift of foresight had become a curse, one that brought only sorrow and despair. As thunderstorms raged outside and the mansion seemed to come alive with malevolent spirits, Professor Andrew deRuiter was left to grapple with the chilling realization that his own predictions had come true in the most horrifying way imaginable.

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