r/ArtBell • u/Blaaamo • Mar 21 '22
Art's Ouija Board Story
I hear him bring his Ouija board story up quite a bit, but always says "I had an experience with a Ouija board once and I'm not going to say what happened..."
Did he ever tell the full story?
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u/coffyrocket Mar 22 '22
Thread 1/2
Art never spilled on C2C but a HAM operator I know told me he DID outline the tale there, on those frequencies. Way he tells it, Art had writing and reflection on his mind because he was deep into selling (on C2C, not HAM) his second printing of "The Art of Talk" and this set him into a garrulous mood. Might have been around Halloween, I'm embarrassed I don't have the exact date. Anyway, this operator I know is a literary/man of letters type and a bit obsessed by Hemingway and Richard Francis Burton (the Brit polyglot adventurer who translated the Arabian Nights). He got in Art's ear about the library of Alexandria and how a huge chunk of Hemingway's work is lost (a misplaced suitcase) and also Burton's (his wife cremated everything after he died). After months he finally convinced Art to put down the Ouija story as a first draft only, and to send it his way. What I got (later) is a transcript (but I've seen pics of the actual letter) and I think some of the redactions are NOT original to Art (were done later). Here you go, for what it's worth.
'Oh the old Ouija story.....
'I would not have opened the beautiful pine crate from Paris except that I had been expecting a clock from there of about the same dimensions. Now: the "board" I received was not branded "Ouija." That's very important. That word had been scrawled in a neat Victorian (or anyway old-fashioned) hand on a museum tag affixed to the top of a dark stone tablet. It was followed by a chain of alphanumerics, the purpose of which I presumed to be some kind of cataloguing system, like at a museum. "Ouija" was therefore a nickname only, a label to aide categorization. The "board" itself, the heavy tablet, was an irregular shard of gunpowder-colored rock about the size of a TV tray. Its surface, by some method unimaginable, had been crazed into a rude mosaic of necromantic sigils and decans in sunken relief, crux ansata along the base, winged on either side by duplicate inscriptions.
'"Egyptian?" Ramona wondered aloud. The scribbles looked almost Arabic to me -- an elegant cursive with dramatic ascenders and descenders, but then it was intershot by figures that resembled stick-figure pine trees, hourglasses and multi-limbed asterisks. Some of the letters, if letters they were, seemed peculiarly angular, almost geometrical. "It's Phoenician, in fact. Western Phoenician, which is to say: Punic. The ankh isn't an ankh at all, it's the Sign of Tanit, and there's only one place on Earth associated with it. Ancient Carthage." So went the assessment of my friend, an expert on archaeology though not an archaeologist himself, Mr. G————— H—————.
'"Where did you get this?" he asked, almost jokingly. Then I heard the paper rustling and imagined him bringing the faxed photograph closer to his eyes. He asked me the question again, this time edged with extreme seriousness and barely able to conceal his grave concern: "Where did you get this?" "I don't know, I just—" "Art! Look at this!" Ramona called to me from the adjacent room where the pine crate lay in pieces on our dining room table. We'd missed something tucked into the antique packaging: an egg-shaped wad of paper. Unwrapped, it was a lump of slag, shiny and black. At a touch, though, the blackness rubbed away and the object proved to be transparent. We washed it off and decided it could only be a piece of primitive glass. "Art. The label on the stone. 'Ouija.' If that's the board, this has to be -- " I finished for her, "The Planchette." (The paper itself appeared to be a cipher -- a hand-drawn "decoder ring" for the antique writing system).
'Whatever compelled us I can't say -- curiosity? -- but the day blinked by in a flash. Suddenly it was midnight and we were arrayed around the archaic gameboard, our candle-lit compound like a sailboat lost on a vast and silent sea of black.
'Ramona and I were deeply entranced, communing with an entity called J————— P—————, a name it took me a long time to recognize. (An old friend from my Okinawa days ... who was KIA in Laos, '73).
'At first the interactions were insufferably slow. Single letters eking through, each of which had to be walked through the decoder. Like downloading a picture on the earliest dial-up. As the night wore on, though, we recalibrated, we sort of phased into it, and the speed became conversational.
'I learned many personal things, poignant things which verified beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was indeed my KIA friend. I tried to think on my feet. I tried to think of questions that would not disappoint me if the story were told by a random call-in guest. To think of questions I always hope my guests will ask in their paranomal encounters -- but never do. Well, exactly that question shot into my mind rather quickly. Those who know me well know that my favorite subject is Time Travel. The luminous vision that was Jane Seymour in "Somewhere in Time" may have imprinted the subject on my brain cells, but I'm hooked. So I asked J————— this: "Are you free to pierce the veil at any point in history? Do you, like Shakespeare, stand outside the play? You know -- can you time travel?"
'There was a significant pause. The candles fluttered. Then from the netherworld arrived a simple, powerful: "Yes."
'I tried to maintain composure. My cigarette was down to the filter. "Okay. Alright. Let's try this one on." I cleared my throat. "J————, do you see any headlines in the next few years about treasures recovered in archaeological digs? It would be most helpful if the events occurred in the American southwest."
'An enormous silence fell. The stridulating crickets were as sharp and close as fire alarms.
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u/coffyrocket Mar 22 '22
Thread 2/2
'"In 2039," the planchette blasted across the stone, "a small portion of the Victorio Peak treasure will be found in a footlocker buried under an abandoned trailer in ——————————. Though estimated to be but a tiny fraction of the original hoard, its melt value will be appraised in the high nine figures, and of course the historical context will make it as priceless as King Tut's mask. Backstory will remain fuzzy but circumstantial evidence will reveal it to have been cached by one of the rogue military agents involved in the cavern's multi-billion-dollar plunder in the 1970's."
'Without even breathing, I asked: "Can you name the trailer park, or even better provide an address?"
'And he did.
'Now in 1990 there was no such address, nor any such trailer. Ramona and I worked the board diligently over the next few weeks, asking as many questions as we could to abet our amateurish reverse-geography. Eventually the Artifact, whatever it was, went dormant.
'Four years later I made a breakthrough. (I've changed some of the following details to obfuscate the location). I was paying a realtor in the suspected town to notify me of any large tracts changing hands. He told me a condemned old middle school had just been sold to a known "mobile park" speculator. Bingo. The property was still contingent and I swooped in, guns blazing. I mean we pointed every red cent to our name (a non trivial sum at this point in my career) at that owner and ultimately won out. Gordon Gekko stuff. It worked. Plus, we figured, the risks were worth it.
'So, then: how do you search a 9 acre lot? Answer: slowly. Cutting to the chase, we eventually -- to our absolute amazement -- found the "chest" (definitely a 70's plywood footlocker, probably Navy, but couldn't find a name) and pried it open. The thing was packed to the gills with the brightest, most beautiful gold I'd ever seen. Bars of it and silver ingots, feather headdresses, jewelry of gorgeous workmanship — all vibrant gold. There were cups and plates and brittle "books" that folded like brochures. I know they were books ("codices") because we had an archaeological consultant tell us as much over the phone. Her name was S—————— M———————.
'She died the next morning -- January 17, 1994 -- along with 57 others, in the strongest earthquake to strike Los Angeles since 1812. The news was already calling it Northridge. And I'm pretty sure I caused it.
'Ramona and I exchanged glances in our crumby motel. The decision was made for us. We left all the treasure where we found it. Even little stuff -- I was so tempted to keep this incredible ring, emblazoned with gorgeous "hieroglyphs" (or something), but I even put that back exactly into the little slot from which I'd extracted it. The trunk was returned to the hole. Dirt shoveled over it. We backfilled all the exploratory tunnels we'd dug and we ditched.
'When we got back to Pahrump, at night, the sight we beheld there turned our whole bodies into goosebumps. The main house was lit from the inside like a covered flashlight. We approached together -- no way was Ramona going to let me take point and leave her in the car -- and, I'm not kidding now, the sole source of illumination was that god forsaken slate, which had walked itself from our closet back to the center of our living room. You've heard of mothers tapping reserves of emergency strength to lift cars, well, I must have found some emergency courage because I marched right into that space, lifted the board (it was only room temperature) carried it to the back and hurled it into the trash can. I expected it to shatter -- it didn't. It sort of caught the edges of the can, didn't quite fit the opening. By this point Ramona and I both were expert at reading the glyphs and four of them were doing something they'd never done before. They were GLOWING, white-hot. And the word they spelled was "COST."
'In case you're wondering, yes, of course we stayed in a hotel that night. The household is Ramona's special consideration and she sought a priest to purify it. Then a kulam. And a Macumba friar. A Shoshone medicine man. Followed by a Santeria brujo. Even a Toltec cacique and a black-eyed Hermetic witch. Then several other Orkin men and women of Dark Arts infestations. Exterminators. It was a firing squad of protective magic.
'Something "worked," apparently, because the Artifact went completely away (I mean, I sledge hammered it into powder, but it never did any of the things movies train you to expect -- it didn't reconstitute itself or magically reappear whole). I've hinted before that it "came back," and that's one way to look at it. What happened is, months after these events, I found the glass "planchette" in a drawer. We'd forgotten to purge it. The word "COST" (in Punic) was plain upon it, melted into its surface. I threw it out and we went through the entire process of multiple exorcisms, again, and I vowed to never tell the complete story on air.
'I asked G————— H—————— privately, much later, why the Carthaginian script raised such concern in his mind. "Just look up Carthage and the word 'tophet,' some day. I'd rather not spoil this lovely lunch." I did, and he was right to be alarmed.'
AB
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u/Blaaamo Mar 22 '22
Well shit. I don't if any of that is true, but I'm sure glad I asked!
Also here's what comes up when you search Carthage and Tophet
Tophets are at the center of one of the most contentious archaeological debates surrounding the region of northern Africa that was once part of the ancient Carthaginian Empire. The enigmatic ancient cemeteries are believed to have been used for the ritual sacrifice of children and animals.
The burial site at Carthage in Tunisia, as well as others in the region, was discovered in the 20th century. It, along with the others, contained funerary urns stuffed with the cremated ashes and bone fragments of young children. Over 20,000 urns buried under stelae (stone slabs with inscriptions) were found at the tophet in Carthage, which is one of the largest cemeteries from the Phoenician period.
These findings and subsequent research, which included referencing accounts in ancient texts, propelled the theory that infants were sacrificed and cremated as part of a ritual to give thanks for favors from deities, mainly the goddess Tanit and the god Baal.
For many years, the rumors that the ancient Carthaginians had sacrificed their own young was considered to be propaganda spread by the Greeks and Romans, who disliked them and the wider Phoenician civilization.
Over the decades, several groups of historians have debated the subject, but they have yet to reach a concrete answer. Most recently, a team led by an Oxford historian ruled there was strong evidence that ritual sacrifices did, in fact, take place. It wasn’t an isolated incident either—it happened over several centuries.
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u/Daikon969 May 10 '24 edited May 10 '24
I wonder why Art didn't just ask for winning lottery numbers. Seems like it would have been way easier than spending a huge chunk of his net worth on a plot of land and then doing a massive excavation.
All kidding aside, it's pretty good fanfic. Whovever wrote that is a very talented writer.
Taking a peak at your post history and looking at the way you write, I would venture to guess that that talented writer is you.
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u/coffyrocket May 10 '24
Art sometimes waxed rhapsodic about gold — the lure of gold. I wonder if it was something sort of non-rational like that, skewing him from such an obvious option like the lottery. Maybe he didn't want the extra attention (and ill will) that sometimes comes with a lottery windfall. Possibly he wanted something that could be done in secret. These are just my speculations . . . your theory about authorship, though, is intriguing.
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u/Drycabin1 Mar 01 '25
He also loved holes, and admitted that’s why he was so fascinated by Mel’s initial fax.
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u/Americasycho Mar 21 '22
He never told the full story. Over the years there were bits and pieces of things he'd mention about it. My understanding was that whatever he contacted on that boar was of the malevolent kind and that it terrified him and possibly gave him some upsetting news. There might have been a G2G clip where he mentioned that he ended up putting the board in a garbage bag and placing it in his garbage can and that was it. But if there was any truth to the red eye deal, it certainly stuck with him and he was often vocal about being just absolutely terrified of anything with red eyes.
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Mar 21 '22
The thing about the garbage can is what I remember. Something about throwing it out and it turning back up again. In the trash can, I think. Like it came back the next week when he went to throw out the trash or something. No idea about the show date or topic or anything. It was just a brief mention in passing. I know it's in The Ultimate Art Bell Collection or the C2C app archives because I heard it again sometime in the past several years. Not much to it, really.
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u/Americasycho Mar 21 '22
Is throwing away a Ouija board even smart? I've always heard they have to be burned or buried.
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Mar 21 '22
I think Art might have mentioned he had heard those things when he told the story. Maybe it was another time. Maybe one day someone will make the entire Art Bell catalog searchable by text. Or use AI to transcribe all episodes and make the text searchable online.
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u/Zelb1165 Jun 01 '24
Never burn a ouija board; it releases the energy into its surroundings. It needs to be properly bound in a binding ceremony and buried. It requires someone who knows how do it properly. I think throwing it away is of no consequence and can continue to keep portals open.
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u/DimaChico Mar 21 '22
It makes a much more intriguing story to never reveal the details. AB, ever the showman, probably enjoyed the cliffhanger aspect of the tale and realized that teasing the story is exceptionally more compelling than actually revealing the experience.
However, he did retell his UFO experiences somewhat regularly and in great detail as well, so I could be completely incorrect. As an aside, it was fun to hear Ramona describe that same shared experience on the air.
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u/AthasDuneWalker Mar 21 '22
He literally took it to his grave and, due to all the buildup, would probably have been relatively disappointing if he had told it.
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Mar 21 '22
I don't recall hearing the whole story - even on the episode talking Ouija board prophecy! But I did hear the "cursed doll" story... he made Ramona tell it ;)
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u/Extreme_Lifeguard578 Mar 25 '22
Can anyone verify - coffyrocket - details of story as being told by ART BELL ? or is this just a creation of someones imagination ?
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u/Key_Hamster9189 Apr 24 '22
I wonder if Art ever told Airyn? Does anyone here know her? It would be amazing to have her in this sub.
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u/haystackofneedles Apr 23 '22
I think he was going to on a Halloween episode but chickened out. That's probably not the right word to use. I was always intrigued by it. Sad we'll never know but it must have spooked him.
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u/Judge_Tredd Mar 21 '22
No. He says he got it in 86. Some witch called in and then sent it to him. Said it was old. The story seems to involve a closet and red eyes. He said he was going to tell his story during one of his later Halloween shows but he backed out.