Marlon's Madness

In the small, quiet neighborhood where we grew up in the capital, Marlon was known for his silence and enigmatic air. A peculiar friend, reserved but loyal to those who managed to break through his shell. However, everything changed on that fateful night when we decide to play with the ouija board. We were a group of teenagers, seeking thrills in the forbidden, ignorant of the forces we were about to unleash.

The session began as an innocent game, amid nervous laughter and flickering lights. But when it was Marlon's turn, something in the air turned icy. His eyes, for a brief moment, seemed empty, as if life had been ripped from them. He experienced a fainting spell, brief but disturbing, and upon regaining consciousness, something in him had changed.

The following days were unsettling. Marlon completely isolated himself, locking himself in his room, refusing to see us or speak to us. When he finally emerged, his demeanor was that of a stranger. His words were incoherent, fragments of a language none of us could understand. He seemed to murmur names and places unknown to us, as if his mind wandered in a world alien to ours.

Months passed, and unease turned into fear. Marlon, a shadow of his former self, seemed consumed by something gnawing at him from within. His eyes, once full of curiosity, now reflected an unfathomable abyss. We were powerless to help him, and our helplessness only fed the horror we felt.

One night, the silence of the neighborhood was shattered by a piercing scream. Marlon ran out of his house, naked and crying for help, his words a torrent of despair. His eyes, wild with terror, reflected a fear none of us could comprehend. That was the last time we truly saw him as Marlon.

Since then, he has become an elusive figure, lost in the labyrinth of his mind. He speaks of visions of worlds beyond ours, of ancient entities whispering forbidden secrets. His words, though incoherent, exude a knowledge that transcends human understanding.

We, his friends, live with the certainty that that night with the ouija opened a door that should never have been crossed. Marlon is now a vessel of ancient horrors, a living warning of the dangers of delving into the unknown. And we, mere witnesses to his transformation, are left with the unsettling question: what price did we pay for our curiosity?