A Living Magazine - Day 130 - Return of the Shadow Man

I woke up with the beeping of the watch alarm at 6:00 am. There is something about being in the tent that makes me feel like I'm so secure. It might be an illusion--as what a child feels pulling the cover over his head when the invisible monsters are heard in the dark, but it lowers my blood pressure and allows me to start the day from a more settled mental standpoint.

I had spent about two hours clearing the area the night before, and after my experience with building a branch and leaf screen in Milwaukee, I was quickly becoming adept at the art of camouflage. It wasn't just the tent, but the area I was able to fashion around it that pleased me most. My base camps were now developing outward into concentric circles of my own WILL for them, based upon my current needs. In this case, at the center was the tent then a surrounding barrier of sticks and leaves, then an open area where I could do tasks, then another barrier of fallen trees and dead logs, with a path cleared through tangled vines uphill to the street above. I was proud of what I was able to do. It was a good form of pride--filled with satisfaction and void of hubris. I had worked hard and this was the payoff.

In fact, after putting on my boots and stepping out under a now-blue sky, I explored more around the perimeter of the river bank and determined that with some extra shielding I could leave the tent in place for this one day, and walk into town with a much less bulky backpack, thereby drawing less attention to the fact I was traveling. I took my new path up to the street...

Sitting (?) structures where my path comes out. Notice that
there is no sidewalk, so no one is likely to pass directly by on foot.

My view from the "front yard".

Before heading in town, I walked around the river area, across two bridges, and took pictures of my camp spot from their vantage points. It is in the center of the tree-filled images. Sorry you can't see it. Or, I guess I'm not sorry...

This is the White River--the sweet little fast running river that flows by my camp spot.

I hear ducks and other birds there during the day and night.

Confident that the tent was safe - even having written my name, number, email and "Journalist" on it with a thick black Sharpy to give an honest person the means of locating me, and a dishonest person the full and conscious knowledge about the guy from whom he would be stealing it - I headed down Meridian...

A cute little place that I would consider buying if I were located in a different life. 

An electric car power station. There have been these set-ups

in all the cities I've visited since leaving Spokane, Washington.

Without any disrespect toward my home state, I predict Maine will

not catch up to this kind of progressive system for another five years--minimum.    

Huh?

Indianapolis City Hall.

The same thing I said about the city's electric car system above

could be repeated for these rental bikes.

I found a Starbucks along the very unique and grand "Monument Circle" (of which I will have photos tomorrow), in the very center of the city...

Monument Circle. Notice Starbucks just past the 3:00 o'clock position.

It was cold out--about 45° F, and windy. I worked there, next to the front door, and was cold all afternoon. For some reason they didn't turn on the heat. Nevertheless, I did what I needed to do. I was going to buy some food from them, but was seriously turned off by the non-smiling, and gruff manager. By the end of her shift, I started to see that the other employees liked her. It must have just been her demeanor toward customers. Not superior customer service.

I was starting to get a taste of the South already, despite not having yet passed below the Mason-Dixon Line. There was a flamboyance to the architecture, and horses were all around, drawing carriages of tourists and carrying Indianapolis's finest...

The overcast was returning, and the temperature was dropping quickly. I had two miles to walk back to my tent. And I was worried for it, the way a mother might for a child left in another room. I headed out, but took a longer street back (Illinois Avenue), accidentally. When I make these kinds of errors, I use them as opportunities to see other areas. It was not as nice a street as Meridian, but I did see one sight that warmed my heart...

Blue Dawn Flower...It's in my soul.

By far, my favorite flower on the face of this earth: the Heavenly Blue Morning Glory (Ipomoea tricolor). To me, it is the Spark--cast in the form of a flower. It is the sun in an eternal sky, yellow in the middle, blue on the outside, simple, Zen-like, soft, silky, delicate, but more POWERFUL than all others, not excepting the majestic rose itself. If heaven has flowers like the kind we enjoy here on earth, then surely this is their Ruler.

When I got back to the tent, I found it fully in tact. Leaving it was NOT an experiment, as the situation where the tarp was stolen in Spokane. Short of an act of God, I was positive it would remain there. It is not something I would do again lightly, nor was it done as such this time. The night before, I'd located a much more level place for this night... 

The quicksand-like surface around it in the rain the night before had made it too problematic. And, I was not confident that the wet sand wouldn't somehow soak through the base of the tent. But this was a much drier day, and worth moving down.

Now that I knew the tent was okay, I decide to go out toward the rougher part of town, passed 30th Street, just to explore and look for possible stores and other resources, before turning in for the night. I also wanted to see how the people live...

Ironically, the Marott Apartments stood like a giant over some of the poorest blocks in the city...

The Marott Hotel.

As I began to cross over 30th Street and was approaching the Children's Museum, a tan car almost ran me over! I looked down into the driver's seat and saw this...

Look carefully, girls and boys. You who pay lip service to raising awareness about texting and driving - but secretly tap your clean little fingers on that screen - should take note (offline!) that you may cross the wrong wallker.

You who fiddle with the lives of pedestrians as you fiddle with your phone are KILLERS in the making. Look into the eyes of the man above, and see his realization that he'd just been caught red handed. Thankfully, the road was not red with my blood. My only regret was that the license plate is illegible. Because, mark my words here, and forevermore, I WILL TURN IN anyone I actually catch doing this. Here it is a $500 fine.

For once, I felt no anger at all--even though this is the 9th time I have avoided being maimed or killed by this senseless and irresponsible behavior (and I am not counting regular cellphone use either). I had made my point to him, and I am publishing his stupidity internationally today (there are over 20 or so readers in Russia alone who will read this). I hope for his sake, Miss Karma steers this guy to my blog somehow, before he is convicted.

The wind was picking up and I was afraid it might rain, so I walked a bit around the Children's Museum before heading"home"...

Coolest dinosaur sculpture ever!

I had no idea that witchcraft went back quite so far!

On my way back under the Highway 65 overpass, and going along with the Halloween season...

And how the hell did some graffiti artist accomplish this?...

This sign is fifteen feet off the ground.

There are certainly infrastructure issues here in Indianapolis. I notice that whether in the downtown area or out here in the badlands, the seems of sidewalk section split at the roadside and crumble away. As Pharaoh might have said: "More straw!", or something.

I got back and repositioned my tent in its new location. I delighted in the assumption that I would sleep more soundly on this night, because the base was very level now...

I climbed in at about 8:00 pm, fired up the laptop and worked on some new music from ANOWAV. I was really getting into it. Editing was going quite well, and I'd just completed mastering a section of the second tune, when I heard footfalls outside. I pulled the earbuds out and closed the laptop.

I figured it was the light of the computer glowing within the tent that must have attracted someone's attention. My heart pounded, ready for a confrontation if need-be. I sat silently as the leaves outside crunched under human feet.

I heard the branches rustle loudly in the direction of the foot end of the tent. This was not an easy place to walk around, especially at night. There was quicksand, tangled vines, sharp, dead branches right at eye level. I had almost been stuck in the eye the night before. Whomever it was out there was an idiot to be exploring at this time of night. I knew the area very well at this point, having had my hands all over it, manipulating it. I was sure that the branches and larger logs I'd moved into place would - at least - trip someone if they were to venture within about ten feet of the tent.

Still, sitting there, eyes closed, listening with the ears of a sound designer, I could not determine the exact position of the intruder. I needed to go and find out. It wasn't just my responsibility to protect my stuff and myself, but to evaluate whether I might have to move to another sleeping place the next night.

I decided that the guy (and the chances of it being a woman were practically none in this particular situation) was drawing closer to the tent, walking cautiously and then quickly, then cautiously again--sneaking. He was close enough now that offense on my part would be the best defense. But, it didn't call for shock and awe, only some mind-fucking from me to him.

I slowly unzipped the tent door. It was surprisingly loud in the windless, black air. The steps stopped. That was the idea. Then, to add another dimension of fear to his night, I unzipped the tarp/fly, which had an even larger and louder sound...more slowly. I focused on the creepiness factor for him, rather than the uncertainty factor for me. The only thing I could imagine that would be scarier than wondering what was outside a tent in the damp woods, at midnight, down by the river, would be wondering what was in it from the outside. I focused on this thought intensely, and became the nightmare, rather than succumbing to any fear that might well-up inside me.

I quietly put my boots on and heard no footsteps now that the flaps were open. In order to get to me (which I didn't think he was trying to do--he just happened to be down there to do drugs or something, most likely, and I was as big a surprise to him as he was to me--maybe more so), he'd HAVE to step in some direction and give away his location. I reached into my side pocket and took out my very sharp little knife, clicking it open. I did this as loudly as possible, then pushed open the flaps, pulling myself up and out by grasping a nearby tree.

The night was perfect for terror. The clouds shifted across the moon, slowly pulling patches of cold blue light across the trees and leaves on the ground, like a sick and broken disco ball, under a malfunctioning strobe light. A duck across the river had a sudden conniption fit, like they do sometimes. Ducks may seem cartoon like, but they are aggressive and fearless. Yet, something had scared this duck. It made flinch. Shivers were flowing up and down my spine, preparing me for the worst, with an endorphin and adrenaline mixed cocktail, cocking open the hammer of my fight or flight pistol.

I stood for a long time in dark clothes, pulling the visor of my hat down over my eyes, while still looking straight forward. Then I felt camera in the pocket of my pants still and thought it might jar this guy into action if I used it; while also capturing a picture of him. I knew exactly where he was--or so I thought. Devious and yet potentially startling. It was a good idea, if I don't say so myself.

So, I reached in, withdrew the case, unzipped it, and removed the camera. I knew if I just turned it on, without covering the screen in back, it would bathe me in light, and that wouldn't be good. I held the back against my stomach, and clicked it on. The lens made a robotic sound as it extended, but no light shone. Slipping my hand under my shirt to keep the screen covered, I raised the camera, shirt and all, pointing it in his direction, and clicked...

No sound, no movement, no leaves kicked up in fear. I was astonished. I thought for sure, he would have done something. Now, I was beyond curious, and not feeling so confident. Who would just stand absolutely still, knowing they had just been photographed (I had not yet looked at the photo, again, to avoid being seen via the camera glow)?

Now, I was becoming agitated. I turned off the camera crouched and gently placed it on my sleeping bag in the tent. It was time for physical action of some kind.

I gripped the knife tightly, and walked over to where the tent had been the last night, just to make damn sure he wasn't there. It was in the opposite direction of where I'd heard him. I checked the green glow of my watch. A half hour had gone by. I wasn't going to be ruled by this guy, and I sure as hell wasn't getting back in that tent without investigating every corner of my adopted land.

I made my way back to the tent, and then straight out to the place I'd just photographed, standing there for a couple of minutes and listening intently. Nothing. Still NOTHING.

I was right next to the giant fallen elm and knew nothing - no animal or human - could penetrate through it tangled mass. When the tree had fallen, it had taken down several other smaller trees which were now brained tightly like a dreadlock. There was one last place to look. And, turns out, I hadn't been there yet--the other side of the fallen tree.

Through several holes in the chaos of the braid, I could see the bright orange, metal halide street light of the Meridian Street bridge that crossed over the river illuminating that region quite nicely. But, my viewing angle was not wide enough to see all the way across the small valley there. I sighed, gripped the handle of the knife again and walked at one step per second toward, and then around, the tip of the fallen giant and into the orange glimmer.

There, standing about fifty feet away and with his back to the street light, stood the silhouette of a man about my size, hooded, and facing me. I could simply not believe my eyes, and blinked them several times. It looked exactly like the Shadow Man from Spokane! I was frozen. It was the strangest sensation I'd ever felt. I actually did feel a supernatural kind of fear for a moment.

I waved. Nothing. I have a relatively mid to high range voice for a man, but conjured up my most masculine low tones, saying, "Hey man!" Nothing.

How could I possible be in the same situation as Spokane? THIS time though, I wasn't going to take my eye off the dark figure. And, I was absolutely determined to get to the bottom of this once and for all. I walked forward toward him; not in a threatening way, but with determination. He stood his ground.

His long shadow was cast all the way to the tips of my feet, when a helicopter came roaring over the community college building above us, flying low. I instinctively looked up at it, and within the same second, caught myself and looked back in front. He was GONE!

I yelled, "NO! You son of a bitch!" and ran as fast as I could through the leaves and up to the only passage out, right next to the bridge. I didn't care who saw or heard me.

Stepping up on to the bridge, there was no sign of any other activity. The helicopter banked and flew off toward the nearby airport. I'd screwed it up again! My heart pounded so loudly that I could hear it in my head. In disappointment and confusion, I walked, downcast, back to the tent and paced back and forth turning the incident over and over in my mind, until I'd calmed down.

Logically, I knew he hadn't made it far enough to actually even know there was a tent there. But he had come up to the other side of the fallen tree. I knew this, because of how close the footfalls had been, approximately ten feet away. How he moved silently from there - through the thick leaf bed - to the edge of the bridge where I saw him, I don't know...

I hate not knowing the answers to why things happen. I have a bunch of "always" statements that I joke with myself about. In every town, there is always a Walgreens; there is always a Wall Street, there is always a Wal-Mart. At the bottom of every liquor bottle there is always a "spider" (the name for the last drop, with its evaporating "legs" climbing up the sides). And, most importantly, there is always an answer to that which happens in the material world. I'm a rationalist. I'm not in the slightest way superstitious. I never use the word "luck" to describe a circumstance. But, the Shadow Man will remain a mystery to me for now.

Chalk it up to coincidence. Chalk it up to happenstance. Chalk it up to random chaos in the matrix of reality. But, even I can't explain away why these two events took place in the way they did. The Shadow Man is not a threat. He is not an angel, nor a ghost. He seems to be the material manifestation of an archetypical part of my own mind--put into flesh and blood. We all know that it just happened to be two different guys in similar circumstances. But, my mind clothes that with a big fat question mark.

I climbed back in the tent and stowed the laptop away. I don't remember falling asleep, but I did. And, I dreamed of many things unrelated to the Shadow Man, waking occasionally to deal with a much more mundane issue regarding my new sleep spot. More on that tomorrow...