The Quarry

Went for a ride the other night with Gretchen. We did the quarry side of Marsh Creek.

The quarry is creepy.

It's at the farthest point away from everything else. There's a long narrow gauge rail bed that stretches out into the dark to the quarry.

It's literally colder out that way.

The quarry itself is fenced in. Presumably for safety (more like liability. the two are not the same) that might not have been present in the past when it was needed.

So you have all that, then you have my over active imagination. As I get closer, whether going that way or not, the skin behind my ears gets tight. My peripheral vision gets more acute (imaginatively).

Then the voices start. The voices of warning. The voices in my head or in the woods. The voices about the boy that drowned in the quarry.

Of course the closer I get the louder they get until I get right there - right there at the quarry, then it's quiet - very quiet. Nothing moves. There's no scampering in the leaves or lazily swinging limbs in the breeze. It's all very still, very quiet, and cold.

Gretchen's collar jingles beside me. We are the only life witnessed by what's not. We pass through as quietly and quickly as we can. We climb from the bottom to the top and off the backside - through the garden of the dead, then we're gone. The voices are gone.

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Yeah so that's all the shit going through my head. It's my imagination. I've seen too many creepy movies.

I have no idea whether anybody ever died there. It's probably better that I don't know.

We ride it anyway. It adds a good two miles to the loop with some decent climbs and descents.

The word picture is called a Wordle. You can create your own here. I thought it would better capture or at least visualize the jumble of voices and words that go through my mind. It sort of did.

- b