Dan Zimmerman devoured by spectres in his sleep
The paint branch trail between my apartment complex and school meanders through tornado destroyed forest, wide stretches of experimental farmland (ask Liz, she knows their unholy secrets), and a swamp full of uprooted and broken trees that licks the edge of the trail, swollen with frequent rainstorms.
I've traversed it hundreds of times since I moved to Maryland. I called rob tonight while I watched the aurora on this trail... he didn't answer. He did call back later though, after I had dinner and decided that I wanted to see more lights. I talked with him as I rode out to Perk on my bicycle. I was creatively thwarted several times upon my arrival; people that went for the guitar moments before I did; blogger.com erring in a fashion unknown to even itself. Lattes consumed, I departed...
The cool moist almost-as-late-in-october-as-you-can-get air cut through my sweater as I hit high speeds on the Rt 193 onramp (yes, bicycle. focus.) The fog lay low and halloweeny as I passed in close proximity to the water, black broken trees stark against the deep blue, feet submerged, ankles obscured occasionally by the mist.
My bike headlight sliced out in front, a thin diverging column piercing the fog, scaring away the ghosts (and deer, I think, too). As I rounded the corner near the golf course (haunted golf course) the beam began to lose definition; the spot projected began to brown and dim. That was all. I was left with the fog and the ambient light noise, enough to see, not enough to see much.
My apartment complex loomed on the horizon, sodium vapor orange shot out between trees, and home depot launched its own at right angles, both flashing as i sped by.
I made it home, but I almost certainly picked up a haunting, or posession, or other supernatural infestation.
If things gave chase, they did so stealthily. They may be here right now... considerate enough to allow me to post, but intending to consume me afterward.
happy birthday heather