Post by shirlee on Oct 4, 2011 14:04:58 GMT -5
dwwwdccccccchild's'st BRIDGE ROAD
October 31, Halloween. Paula couldn’t believe the day was actually here, a day when all unusual things became the norm. And what bothered her the most was that Halloween shared the month with the only Friday 13th in the year.
She was superstitious, she had no problem admitting that. And all her friends found it funny that she would take extra precautions on these days to protect herself from the unknown. What they didn’t know was that strange things would happen to her at those times, it had been that way all her life. She had come very close to losing her life more times than she could fit on one hand because of them. No, she decided, she was not crazy to want to protect herself.
Paula’s blue eyes glazed over with unwanted tears as she gazed at the horizon outside her door. Her petite form shivered under the heavy sweater she wore. She wasn’t cold. Something was coming. Something frightening was going to happen tonight, something she was sure neither her or anyone else would be able to stop or explain.
It wasn’t yet dusk, but the horizon was already taking on an eerie glow. The birds had ceased their singing and everything stood still and silent, waiting and watching. Paula took a step off her porch and walked to the end of the drive, eyes fixed to the glow, watching it spread outward and upward. Taking shape, still vague. And with it a sound, a low rumble, vibrated the air around her, and it seemed to her that it was delivering a message but one she could not understand.
Several cars drove past, blurred images inside them, and it wasn’t because of the rate of speed they traveled that distorted the images. the details of the vehicles stood out quite clearly. Only the occupants of them became distorted. Who were the, she wondered. And why were they headed for Hollow BridgeRoadd? No one lived down there, in fact it came to a dead end after about a mile, right where the corn fields started. And yet, scores of cars continued to drive past with a purpose.
A purpose Paula was determined to discover on her own. She had to know because it would affect her some way, somehow, and it would be best not to be caught unaware.
She walked to her car, climbed in and waited. Waited for darkness to close in further so she would go unnoticed. And then started the ignition, listening to the motor purr quietly before pulling out of the drive, turning toward Hollow Bridge Road.
Crossing the bridge in darkness, headlights dimmed to parking lights, she pulled the car to the side of the road. The vehicles were lined like soldiers, further up the lane from hers, empty. Paula stepped out onto the gravel quietly, and walked toward the voices that drifted to her on the night air. The glow was much brighter here, and she could swear that flames were licking the night sky above them. Parting the cornstalks gently, she made her way into the field. She didn’t have to go far. When her face could feel the warmth of the fire within, she stopped, afraid that she had gone in too far.
Her eyes were greeted by a sight totally unexpected and mysterious. With flames scorching the sky in front of him, a cloaked figure sat silently, back turned to her. Just in front of him a form, a child perhaps though her eyes couldn’t identify it, lay wrapped in a black blanket. Outside the circle she could hear the drone from the others, a chant without words, or maybe she couldn’t hear them. Paul held her breath, frightened and fascinated by the spectacle. What could be happening here, she wondered.
Paula crept up as close as she dared and knelt down in the tall grass beneath her feet. The child remained quiet as the chant continued, staring intently at the cloaked form watching over it. When it rose from its seat, Paula’s breath caught in her throat as the dark figure seemed to glide across the surface, disturbing nothing in its path and making no sound.
The voices came nearer and before long shadows appeared amongst the corn rows, stepping out soundlessly into the firelight to tighten the circle around the child. The leader stepped into the circle beside the child, hovering behind it, and still Paula could not see its features. Was it a woman or a man? No one was speaking so she couldn’t discern what any of them were. Until the silence.
The movement ceased, the chanting stopped and Paula watched as the cloaked figure raised his arms up and a pale, bone-like hand pointed a finger in her direction. A hand devoid of flesh and blood signaling to the others her existence. A chill filled her soul, her eyes darted this way and that, wondering which way she should flee even though she could not will her body to follow through with it.
A few of the group broke away and silently glided in her direction, following the leader’s unspoken instruction, searching her out. She opened her mouth to scream as they advanced toward her, a silent wail of fear unable to move past her lips. Hands,bonyy hands reached for her arms, wanting to extricate her from her hiding place, repulsed her. Every sense in her body cried No! No! And as she felt herself swept off her feet, she lost her last grip on reality, escaping into a faint, helpless to defend herself.
Several hours later Paula woke up to the sound of a child’s fear filled wail an she jumped from her resting place, fearing for the child’s safety. Until she realized she was in her own home and the sound that had awakened her had been the sound of a child’s crying on her television. Had it all been a dream, she wondered? She looked at the date and time on her television screen, November 1, 1 a.m. and then realized that the movie she had been watching was nearly over and she’d fallen asleep. She walked to the window and looked out, expecting to see a lingering glow from the fire she’d thought she’d investigated, but there was only the yard light and the moon. No smell of smoke, no steam of retreating vehicles, nothing. She’d imagined it. Or had she?
If you follow the trail down Hollow Bridge Road, there was not well beaten path through the cornfield, no haunting chants, no mysterious cloaked figures hovering near the fire. But there was a black cloth, rumpled and discarded in a heap in a clearing at the edge of the field. Beside it, a child’s toy, a discarded doll, a footprint....
------Shirlee Taylor 2000
October 31, Halloween. Paula couldn’t believe the day was actually here, a day when all unusual things became the norm. And what bothered her the most was that Halloween shared the month with the only Friday 13th in the year.
She was superstitious, she had no problem admitting that. And all her friends found it funny that she would take extra precautions on these days to protect herself from the unknown. What they didn’t know was that strange things would happen to her at those times, it had been that way all her life. She had come very close to losing her life more times than she could fit on one hand because of them. No, she decided, she was not crazy to want to protect herself.
Paula’s blue eyes glazed over with unwanted tears as she gazed at the horizon outside her door. Her petite form shivered under the heavy sweater she wore. She wasn’t cold. Something was coming. Something frightening was going to happen tonight, something she was sure neither her or anyone else would be able to stop or explain.
It wasn’t yet dusk, but the horizon was already taking on an eerie glow. The birds had ceased their singing and everything stood still and silent, waiting and watching. Paula took a step off her porch and walked to the end of the drive, eyes fixed to the glow, watching it spread outward and upward. Taking shape, still vague. And with it a sound, a low rumble, vibrated the air around her, and it seemed to her that it was delivering a message but one she could not understand.
Several cars drove past, blurred images inside them, and it wasn’t because of the rate of speed they traveled that distorted the images. the details of the vehicles stood out quite clearly. Only the occupants of them became distorted. Who were the, she wondered. And why were they headed for Hollow BridgeRoadd? No one lived down there, in fact it came to a dead end after about a mile, right where the corn fields started. And yet, scores of cars continued to drive past with a purpose.
A purpose Paula was determined to discover on her own. She had to know because it would affect her some way, somehow, and it would be best not to be caught unaware.
She walked to her car, climbed in and waited. Waited for darkness to close in further so she would go unnoticed. And then started the ignition, listening to the motor purr quietly before pulling out of the drive, turning toward Hollow Bridge Road.
Crossing the bridge in darkness, headlights dimmed to parking lights, she pulled the car to the side of the road. The vehicles were lined like soldiers, further up the lane from hers, empty. Paula stepped out onto the gravel quietly, and walked toward the voices that drifted to her on the night air. The glow was much brighter here, and she could swear that flames were licking the night sky above them. Parting the cornstalks gently, she made her way into the field. She didn’t have to go far. When her face could feel the warmth of the fire within, she stopped, afraid that she had gone in too far.
Her eyes were greeted by a sight totally unexpected and mysterious. With flames scorching the sky in front of him, a cloaked figure sat silently, back turned to her. Just in front of him a form, a child perhaps though her eyes couldn’t identify it, lay wrapped in a black blanket. Outside the circle she could hear the drone from the others, a chant without words, or maybe she couldn’t hear them. Paul held her breath, frightened and fascinated by the spectacle. What could be happening here, she wondered.
Paula crept up as close as she dared and knelt down in the tall grass beneath her feet. The child remained quiet as the chant continued, staring intently at the cloaked form watching over it. When it rose from its seat, Paula’s breath caught in her throat as the dark figure seemed to glide across the surface, disturbing nothing in its path and making no sound.
The voices came nearer and before long shadows appeared amongst the corn rows, stepping out soundlessly into the firelight to tighten the circle around the child. The leader stepped into the circle beside the child, hovering behind it, and still Paula could not see its features. Was it a woman or a man? No one was speaking so she couldn’t discern what any of them were. Until the silence.
The movement ceased, the chanting stopped and Paula watched as the cloaked figure raised his arms up and a pale, bone-like hand pointed a finger in her direction. A hand devoid of flesh and blood signaling to the others her existence. A chill filled her soul, her eyes darted this way and that, wondering which way she should flee even though she could not will her body to follow through with it.
A few of the group broke away and silently glided in her direction, following the leader’s unspoken instruction, searching her out. She opened her mouth to scream as they advanced toward her, a silent wail of fear unable to move past her lips. Hands,bonyy hands reached for her arms, wanting to extricate her from her hiding place, repulsed her. Every sense in her body cried No! No! And as she felt herself swept off her feet, she lost her last grip on reality, escaping into a faint, helpless to defend herself.
Several hours later Paula woke up to the sound of a child’s fear filled wail an she jumped from her resting place, fearing for the child’s safety. Until she realized she was in her own home and the sound that had awakened her had been the sound of a child’s crying on her television. Had it all been a dream, she wondered? She looked at the date and time on her television screen, November 1, 1 a.m. and then realized that the movie she had been watching was nearly over and she’d fallen asleep. She walked to the window and looked out, expecting to see a lingering glow from the fire she’d thought she’d investigated, but there was only the yard light and the moon. No smell of smoke, no steam of retreating vehicles, nothing. She’d imagined it. Or had she?
If you follow the trail down Hollow Bridge Road, there was not well beaten path through the cornfield, no haunting chants, no mysterious cloaked figures hovering near the fire. But there was a black cloth, rumpled and discarded in a heap in a clearing at the edge of the field. Beside it, a child’s toy, a discarded doll, a footprint....
------Shirlee Taylor 2000