Friday, November 21, 2008

11/21/08: Darkness At Cedar Mountain

Autumn in New England.

Crispy nights, filled with a smattering of stars and bare trees stretching their branches to the sky, summoning the spirit of the headless horseman.

A mild breeze blowing down a quiet suburban road, leaves swirling around in a small cone shape funnel as a person walks down the side of the street, bundled up from the cool autumn breeze.

I had just finished this week's feeding of the family (aka grocery shopping) and was about a mile or so from home, when a small wave of sadness came over me. Usually my thoughts really don't bother me much when I'm driving home from shopping, because usually I'm doing this in the daytime.

Night time it's a different animal. My section of town contains this blog's namesake and the local quarry, and at night, it really can do a number on your state of mental health. I'm really not sure how to describe it to everyone other than it plays out like a modern ghost story, without the ghost.

A dimly lit deserted street, a mild breeze blowing, a dark and foreboding mountain, bare trees, and a soundless neighborhood, all conspire to prey on whatever small negative thought you happened to have going. Like a virus, it quickly spreads until it threatens to destabilize your current state of oneness.

Anyways, I pulled into the driveway and got out. Looking up, I saw that the sky tonight had only a few stars out to illuminate the night sky. Looking across the street, the trees were completely naked (courtesy of Mother Nature and her windy temper tantrum this past weekend) and the branches stuck out at grotesque angles, like a bad painting from Night Gallery.

It really did start to pray on my mind as I simply stood in the driveway for a few minutes, inhaling the night time atmosphere. Looking down the street, all I felt was the mild breeze blowing in my face. No other sound could be heard beyond the inflated turkey stationed at the lamppost.

It took me quite a while to bring the groceries in as every time I went to the car to retrieve the groceries, I paused long enough to inhale the atmosphere and do a little more pondering of the days events. Bit by bit, the stillness that surrounded me began to take hold and penetrate my psyche.

But eventually, I was able to shake off the unpleasantness that permeated my being, by simply walking into my living room and watching my little four month old nephew sleep. Spending those few minutes watching my nephew sleep in front of a blaring television without a care in the world, brought me back to the here and now.

Even though the mountain's mystical natural power took a firm grip on my psyche and threatened to turn me into a quivering emotional wreck, the power of the baby was too much for it to overcome.

My peace of mind restored, I thanked my lucky stars that I wasn't completely swallowed by unholy temptation that is Cedar Mountain.


  1. I'm glad your nephew was able to offset that bleakness you so powerfully wrote about. I gotta say, I was there. Cedar Mountain sounds like a great place to write a noir style story.

  2. It does, doesn't it? I never really thought about it that way, but I do believe you're right.

    Thanks. For both the compliment and idea.

  3. That was very lovely. And, I agree. There is nothing more beautiful that a sleeping child.....

  4. That was an awesome post...there was a Wisconsin Death Trip feel to it, which I loved, since that's my favourite book...tops work!

  5. Many thanks for the compliment and many thanks for stopping by to visit.


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