Beside the ouija board on the couch Imogen sat, hoping she could answer questions the guests of the manor had. It was where she always was, just waiting. Eyes flickered up from the board when she heard someone approach, then stood and moved to the other side. Now crouched, knees pressed to her chest, she placed her fingertips on the planchette. It’s then she noticed the other not coming to take their spot. "What is it they’re waiting for,“ she whispered to herself.








