About a year ago, I was really good friends with this girl from South Korea. I'd always noticed strange happenings when I was with her (just little nothings.) But I never really thought about it much.

One friday night I was at her house, like every other friday night. We decided it would be fun to read some ghost stories, and try out a Ouija board. Of course, she didn't own one herself, so we decided to make one of our own. We included everything that needed to be there (the alphabet, numbers 0-9, hello, goodbye. that sort of thing). The two of us were seemingly fearless, and had always wanted to actually contact a spirit. As a precaution, we decided not to use the Ouija board in her room, for the simple fact that it would be un-nerving to know that there was something else sleeping with us at night. So we used the Ouija in the only place we could think of without getting caught - the bathroom!

We tried patiently for several hours but nothing happened. We are both patient..but not THAT patient. So we left the home-made Ouija board and the glass we used as a planchette separate from each other to avoid any strange happenings......This didn't work.

We were a bit shaken up by the ghost stories, so to calm down, we decided to smoke a few cigarettes on her balcony, since her mother was asleep in her bedroom. We spent a good two hours on her balcony talking. As a human being, I found the need to use the bathroom. At this point I was still very aware of the Ouija board sitting on the floor of the bathroom, the make- shift planchette sitting proudly atop the counter, and the candle we used for dramatic effect, sitting right next to the planchette. Obviously assuming that they would still be sitting right where we left them. When I opened the door of the bathroom, I opened my mouth to scream, but a whimper was all I could muster up. Sitting boldly atop the home-made Ouija board was the planchette, set over "Goodbye". Next to the Ouija board? A lit candle with the flame burning much higher than usual and a "strike anywhere" match sitting on the floor, still burning. Forgetting my manners, I barged into her mother's room and yelled, asking her why on earth she would play such a cruel joke. Of course, this poor Korean woman just looked at me dumbfounded, groggy from being awoken from her nap. She told me that she had no idea what I was talking about, and that I should explain myself before jumping to conclusions.
After showing her what was in the bathroom, she laughed and told me that it must have been her daughter playing a silly prank. I turned to my friend quizzically, and she only shrugged. She swore on her life that she had no idea what had happened. I knew it couldn't have been her anyways, because she was with me the entire time.

That night, though it took us some convincing from her mother that things would be alright, we slept soundly on the downstairs couches. Call me obsessive compulsive, but I like to have my nails short. So short, in fact, so as to not see any white (yes, I am a nail biter).
That morning, I woke up at an ungodly hour because of a sharp pain in my cheek. I went to a mirror hanging on the wall by the couch and was shocked to find a long, deep scratch from under my eye, to the start of my jaw line. What was even more shocking was what I saw when I went to touch the cut. My nails were longer than those of a common prostitute! So I assumed that I had scratched myself. Now that explains the cut. But nothing explains the strange growth rate of my nails.

Needless to say, we didn't spend too many weekends at her house after that.