It was a dark and rainy night. It had ben raining for hours. The Weather Service was pleading for people to stay indoors and not go out for any reason. Tom waited until midnight to begin our little game, and the four of us; Rick, Joel, me, and, Tom, started by asking all kinds of silly questions.
It was a strange looking board, covered with letters and symbols. There was a plastic pointer that was supposed to move across the board at the behest of the spirits. The instructions called it a planchette.
Around one thirty in the morning, the planchette suddenly froze in Tom’s hand. It wouldn’t move, no matter how much we pushed and pulled.
Tom turned his frightened eyes toward me. “I’m not doing it,” he said, lifting his hands. I grabbed the planchette myself and tried to push it around, but it was fixed to the board.
Suddenly, a kind of electric shock buzzed through my fingers. I gasped and tried to pull my fingers from the planchette, but they were stuck. Tom and Joel both tried to pull my fingers away, nothing helped. The other guys stared with wide, round eyes, as the planchette came alive under my fingers—which were still fixed to its surface—and began to move.
“HELP.” The words spelled out under my hand. “HELP. HELP.”
The planchette kept moving back and forth between the H - E - L - P continuously, until Rick cried out: “Who are you?”
“Bd’s.” The board spelled. “My name is Bd’s. I am a geocacher.”
“What’s wrong?” Tom asked. His face was so white all the freckles stood out like darkened age spots.
“Water. Danger. Help. Scared.” The words spelled out as fast as my hand could move.
“Call 9-1-1,” Tom cried suddenly. “Quick. Bd’s is in danger.”
By this time, Rick was gasping into the phone. Then he hung up the phone. “They wouldn’t listen to me,” he told us, almost in tears.
At that instant, my hand was suddenly free from the planchette.
“He’s gone,” I gasped,
“See if you can contact him again,” Tom said urgently. “We need to know if he’s okay!”
I picked up the plastic planchette again. “Bd’s, are you there?” I asked softly, afraid of what might happen.
After a long pause, it moved slowly across the board and spelled out the words: “Too late.” And after another long pause. “Water. Flood. Drowned. 7 Mile Creek.” The planchette stopped.
I knew that Bd’s was gone.
None of us got much sleep that night. In the morning, we rushed through breakfast and then looked up the Erie Times News. None of us were surprised to read that there had been flash floods the night before. I began to read the story of a fool hearted geocacher who, despite the Weather Services pleas to remain indoors, raced out in the storm in an attempt to grab a “First To Find” and drowned in the raging water. His name was “Bd’s”……………………..
About This Letterboxing Series
A letterbox hybrid cache is a cross between a traditional letterbox and a modern geocache. Each Letterbox will be an ammo can containing a small bag of swag and a pen and logbook. Each letterbox will also include a container with an ink pad and stamp. Use this stamp to mark your own notebook or journal. Feel free to stamp the logbook with your own, personal stamp. Please do not remove these stamping items from the cache.