Alive Among Ghosts - Part 2

I continued on and heard definite foot falls, sandy gravel being whisked up, heavy breathing. I KNEW someone was behind me jogging closer and closer. I stopped again...confidently turned around...and...AGAIN...nothing.

Now, please, understand.  I am the most rational person you could meet. I have never had a paranormal experience.  I don't believe in ghosts, but I know what I heard and it WAS a jogger.  The temptation was to turn around right there and head back.  That would have been the smart thing to do. The path was open, I'd already been down it once, what could be the harm of just re-tracing my steps, and going back those few miles?  But, no.  I simply HAD to see where it led to.  Maybe it is the German in me; going back was just not an efficient use of time.  Nein!  I vill go on vhether it kills me!  And the Irishman in me loved the wee bit of misty, faery land I'd just discovered.

I checked my cell phone again, it said "8:20." Sure didn't feel like an hour had passed. Another shiver ran down my spine. But I wasn't going to give up. I NEEDED to know where the path would lead.
I began walking again. This time I distinctly felt like I was being watched. But I didn't turn around. I didn't stop. I figured "...whatever will be will be..."

There was rustling in the bushes again.  Didn't turn around.  A strange bird sounded like it was laughing in my left ear.  And another returned the laugh in the right ear.  Their calls echoed for a long time.  The jogging began again, as if the person had stopped way back to catch their breath and then started up again.  The foot falls got louder and louder again.  Didn't turn around.   The breathing was labored and half-coughing.  Didn't turn around.  I simply refused to play the ghost game.  Something told me that it was the playing along that got people into trouble; made them see things they weren't supposed to see.  But most of all, because I have a skeptical mind, I simply BELIEVED that I was misjudging the situation and I wanted to get to that damn Highland Avenue intersection before it became completely dark.  Also, honestly, I knew that if I turned around, nothing would be there anyway.

And slowly, gradually, the sound faded out again.  The steps grew slower and more distant.  The feeling of not being alone subsided.  And before long, I knew I had been right to not look back.
I reached an enormous soccer field...then another...then another...then ANOTHER. Then to my right were 3 or 4 baseball fields. I kept saying to myself, "Where the hell am I am I? What IS this place." somehow I missed the dirt path that led from the paved path and out to the main road--Highland Avenue--what should have been my destination.  Even today I have no idea where the road would be, were I to be plopped back down in that field.  I haven't had the chance to zoom up on the map yet.  Ah, the joys of limited Internet use.  It certainly was NOT apparent when I was actually crossing that foggy field.

Even with the jogger-sound gone, there was something not quite right.  My instincts told me that I was isolated, in a different realm of some kind.  Again, for no good reason and in spite of my initial confidence, I felt like I was being watched.  Maybe I really was.  I mean, maybe the neighborhood kids (wherever the neighborhood was) were hiding in the woods beyond the fog?  I just had to keep going and make the call about how to get back home.

I was clueless. I even walked methodically around the parking lot and could not find the road that led out or in to it.  This began to seem more and more like a Twilight Zone episode or a bad trip.  I even began to wonder whether I was in-fact dreaming.  In the distance, towards what I judged to be the south, was a segmented fence of some kind.

Each segment looked like a solid 30 foot area and then a small break and then another solid area, etc., all the way across the horizon. What the??  There were about 20 of these solid rectangular forms. Sure looked like boxcars from a train to me. It was raining for real now and assessing my embarrassing and temerarious state, I smiled and then very consciously sighed.  I knew this would be something to sit back and laugh about (or better yet WRITE about) at some point.  But I was SO alive.  I was beaching my row boat on the Maine coast back in the 16th Century.  I was washed up on a foreign land.  I was thrust into the jaws of uncertainty.  It was a new world.  And though others might not see it as anything special.  Something in my life aligned to produce this feeling.  It was pure adrenaline and it electrified my soul.  After all the depression and gloominess of the day, now I was stuck in land of frigging Oz, in the midst of a parking lot with no entrance or exit, at the end of a physically psychedelic path, haunted by a dead jogger, standing on the buried remains of a horse track.  GOD, I loved it!  And there was NO ONE around; no houses to be seen; no traffic to be heard... I said out loud, "Well, this is what I get for taking 'the longest road.'"

Somehow, I gathered myself up and resolved to continue on.  I really had no choice.  A melted orange glow hung diffused against the western sky.  The sun would be gone long before I got out of there.  Of course I had spent nights outside before. If I had to again I would. Thankfully I had my faithful and well-stocked backpack, with extra clothes, a lighter, a flashlight, meat ends (ha!), a pint of milk, a fleece jacket, a towel, a pocket knife and a rain poncho.  But this spending the night was a ridiculous notion to contemplate!

If worst came to worst, I'd just find the head of the trail and walk back again.  It seemed my soul wanted an even larger experience that my mind was willing to allow.  Not being one to beat around the bushes--as it were--I headed for the segmented "fence." As I approached I realized that I had been correct with my train theory; it was indeed a series of boxcars, left there for god-knows what reason.

"Ha, ha!" I said, "If I can get on to the tracks I'll be able to see a traffic crossing at one end or the other."  Then it was simple and straightforward, I'd just follow the tracks to the intersection.  I started through the tall grass toward the tracks.   When I got close enough, and after falling in and stepping into several hidden pits in the ground, almost twisting my ankle, I worked my way up onto the tracks at the end of the line of boxcars.  Right on cue I heard a distant train whistle.  Like a friggin' movie!  I wished so badly that my camera had been well-charged.  Documenting this whole thing would have gotten me a grant...

But I couldn't see a god-damned thing. About 100 meters in each direction faded off sharply into the now darkening fog. I could hear the inner-Homer in my head say, "Doh!!!"

I noticed there was another track beside the one I was standing on.  I walked over and through another pit-filled gully and a black pool of rust-colored ,oily water, to stand on the next set of tracks.  But alas, no view, only fog again and - not surprisingly - a louder train whistle. "Shit!" I said, and then ran back over to the other tracks, then skipped over the pits this time and back on to the field. Obviously there was a turn-off off of the main track and these cars were being stored.  They each displayed the word "Boston," along with some of the filthiest graffiti I think I've ever seen.  Even *I* blushed.  It was apparent the boxcars were waiting to be used again soon.  I looked for hobos but only saw myself... Ha!

Now I was feeling pretty stupid and was GLAD no one was around. At this point I was becoming fed up and decided that going back to the path was my only choice.  It was 9:15.  Darkness had pretty-much enveloped everything. I was happy to be out in the open where there was still a bit of light from the sky.  Yet the notion (no matter how brave I am) of walking a couple miles back along a pitch black trail with the jogger ghost panting behind me was not exactly a welcome one.  But what choice did I have?

I figured I was almost back around to the head of the trail anyway. It was one-soccer-field away.  I had circumnavigated the whole complex of fields.  I made my way along the gravel siding next to the tracks, and now instead of water coming up through the holes in my shoes there were small stones AND water. 

As it grew darker and darker, I had to stop two times to dump out my shoes before finally rounding the corner to a straight dirt road leading to the paved part of the path again, up-aways.  Upon the third dumping-out of my shoes, I noticed two dark brown forms way up ahead, in the same place I had started off across the field at. They were too far away for me to tell whether they were people or tree stumps.  As I put my sneaker back on, I reached in to the lower pocket of my backpack and removed my binoculars.  I stared through them, focusing first the middle knob, and then the right lens.  Sure enough, it was two people; one tall one short.  I strained to see them better...  They were walking but I could not determine if it was toward me or away. 

The lenses flattened the image, which also shook slightly.  At this distance there was very little depth of field... And then... They stopped walking and stood there side by side.  Now I just felt weird.  I crouched down to rest my elbows on my knees in an attempt to settle the image, at the risk of looking like I was trying to hide--though I wasn't.  The image wasn't shaky anymore.  But these people had no distinguishable characteristics; no faces or light clothes.  Their arms were straight down at their sides.  You'd think that if they were talking or something they would at least turn to face each other?  One looked like he was wearing a hat, old-style, like Indiana Jones.  But they just stood there as the rain steadily fell.

I just DID NOT get it.  What the hell were two people doing way out here in the rain, at this time of night? They could surely see me. My shorts alone were khaki, but looked bright white in the gloomy reflection of the overcast night sky as it was lit from below by distant city lights.  And they looked to be right where the paved trail led back into the woods--that is, right where I needed to go. Like a fool, I waved. But they just stood there.  They wouldn't have seen the wave anyway.  They were just silhouettes.  Why would they just stand there? Were they facing me or away from me? Maybe they were walking and I was just too far away to tell?

I slid the heavy backpack back over my shoulders and carried on toward them. I walked on and on. they didn't move.  It seemed to take forever and the forms of their bodies didn't seem to resolve themselves any better as I approached them.  About halfway to the spot where I would run into them, I stopped and took out the binoculars again. Before bringing them up to my eyes I got my bearings, since it had become so dark and I needed to make sure I was pointing the binoculars in the right direction.  I used my naked-eyes to do this, then finally looked through the binoculars... And like a mirage...they vanished!  I quickly removed the binoculars from my eyes and like the fading of a frame in a video, they were completely gone!  Oh man!

The third shiver of the evening passed over my back and neck like a train of ants up a log. "Wonderful!" I said out loud.

Mentally adding these phantoms to the now-long list of unfortunate things I might face along the way back down the trail, I grit my teeth and bucked-up to the challenge of meeting at least SOME of them.

The fatigue and desire for this little adventure to just be done-with took over.  I threw the binoculars back in the pocket of the backpack and walked quickly now toward the place where the two people had been standing--the head of the path. In military history there is what is known as "the forward retreat."  That is when you are surrounded, knowing you will be cut down if you remain on the battlefield, desperate for a way out.  It forces you to run forward through the enemy's lines and - God-willing - break out behind them, where you would presumably keep running all the way "home."  Well, I wasn't going through the indignity of running, but I just didn't give a shit anymore.  It was time for the forward retreat.  I was going to get back down that path and back to my my some-what abnormal life, no matter what it took!  Earlier, when I had removed the binoculars I had also taken out my pocket knife, opened it and carefully slipped it inside my shorts' pocket (notice the word, "carefully").  It was better to be safe than sorry. Better to have a knife and not need it then to need a knife and not have it.

In virtually no time I reached the path head. I didn't stop. I wasn't afraid. No! I was THRILLED! THIS is what I desired so much: the uncertainty of where I was; the threat of being ambushed by who knows who or what and having to fight for my life in the black overcast with the threat of even heavier rain...

This was TRULY living!  THIS was what I didn't get to have in my former life; what most of us never get in our safe comfortable, but stale, existences.  THIS was why Iwallk!  I marched like a soldier, muscles tight, jaw clenched and ready, down the path.

I made my way around the grassy, land fill hills. I re-entered the darkest part of the path shivering again but determined...on fire for what lay beyond.  I resigned myself to follow it no matter what, though I couldn't see a thing.  By sheer instinct I walked on and on.  I stayed in the middle by judging the grade, as the width of the path arches slightly down on either side.  I didn't speed up and I didn't slow down, I simply marched at good and confident clip.  I considered stopping to pull out my flashlight, but then thought better of it.  If there were people around they would be able to see me and my light better than I would be able to see them in the shadows.  A sickly orange glow was occasionally visible through the ceiling of leaves above.

Shivers kept running up my back. I felt like I was on some kind of amphetamine; like I had just injected the strongest speed.  But, it was better than any drug.  I'd never done that kind of drug anyway, but I figured THIS must be some-what how it felt. There was a rustling on my left side I turned my head, but did not stop.  It got loud--like stomping, and then seemed to run away.  Maybe a deer? 

I saw nothing as I pushed on, just pitch black.  My mind seemed to light the entire forest from within me; fed by the luminosity pouring out of my soul.  I was a bat or a dolphin way down deep in the blackness of the ocean, seeing with my ears.  A glow began to fade in to my vision, faintly up ahead, ghostly, ominously on my right side.  I marched on and on.  When I got within fifty feet I saw that it was the tent. Obviously, its occupant was there now.  Maybe he or she or they were the ones in the field?  No time to stop and ask.  I just kept walking.  I swear "things" were breathing audibly all around me.  It seems they wanted me but could not quite find the right moment to plunge in.  I was one of them now, a creature of darkness, a demon ready to fight or bite my way through this.

Strangely, unbelievably even, I still felt NO FEAR; none at all.  I was ready for anything.  I knew that passing through this wasteland of imagination was proof to myself that the world could throw anything at me and I would be able to face it like a man.  After this half hour of blind uncertainty, no human being could ever intimidate me again.  Even the specter, death and the devil himself, who once pushed my face into the mud, no longer had power over me.  I would live-on...EVEN if I died. 

Yes, I was ALIVE, bristling with energy.  Every nerve was expecting trouble...wanting trouble.  And I LOVED every single second of every minute of it.  Dreams, visions, nightmares passed through my mind.  Long-ago scenes from the deepest reaches and darkest ditches of my life experiences passed through me.  Ink-like, suffocating blackness from the sleep seasons of my past flooded into my mind.  There was nothing else to see but them.  But I was ready for even these inner torments, conjuring them up on purpose.  And still I pressed on, HOPING almost praying that something would jump out at me from the shadows.  I gripped my knife in anticipation...but...nothing did.

Approaching the entrance (now exit) to the path, the street lights and the noise of the traffic lay just beyond and attacked my heightened senses like coming up out from under water, up for air.  As I passed by the concrete re-enforced pillars that blocked cars from entering the path, I knew it was over.  The test was over.  I slowed my pace. The restaurant whose parking lot I now invaded like an army of one, was closed.  I slipped by it's lonely outdoor tables and flickering lights.

On the road next to the sidewalk I was now safely making my way on as cars zoomed by.  A truck peeled out from side street.  Someone was yelling at their kids from the front porch...AH! To be back in "normality." I jacked up the straps of my backpack, reached inside my pocket and closed the knife with my right hand, while I gently wiped some tears of genuine joy from my eyes with my left hand.

And while I moved along this well-traveled and familiar path, I wondered why every day couldn't be like this one. I thanked God for my Odyssey and my life of uncertainty.  I knew then that I was doing the right thing.  What more could I ask for as validation? What spice could be more awakening? I knew presently that I had just emerged from the woods as the new Ulysses and in the adventures yet to come the collective challenge of post-modern humanity would be mine to express as best I could.  And IF I could, anyone could.  It prepared me for the great duty that I will be called upon to complete.  I don't know what that will be but it won't be an easy task and it may cost me all of even the small amount that I still have left in this world.  But I will gladly fulfil it, whatever it is. 

And...maybe...for a passing moment...my mind really WILL "light up the entire forest from within; fed by the luminosity pouring out of my soul."  Even if it IS only for a moment, what joy of human life could be more satisfying? 

No, I have no home.  I have no things.  I have no rest.  I have no comfort.  I have no bed with warm blankets.  I have no idea what my future will hold.  But, for the first time in my life, I DO have this feeling of becoming new, becoming truly alive.  Now I dare to say to myself that I really AM worth something.

I slept well later, on that dark night of the soul, dreaming richly and colorfully of things yet to come. 

Now the REAL work begins..........