My psyche has given up long ago in trying to frighten me.
I've woken from nightmares and laughed at it's attempts in the middle of the night. In the midst of a horrible dream I'm able to recognize and control the outcome-- I'm the Steve McQueen of the dreamworld-- unshakably cool and collected. Sorry if that makes you jealous.
The other day I ventured to Spider Gates Cemetery on the outskirts of the big Woo. For those of you not in the know-- it's actually an active burial ground for the Quakers which has a sinister legend owing more to it's remote location than any actual facts, as in all good legends this one is based entirely on stuff that's made up.
You can google search Spider Gates and learn about its eight gates, its portal to hell, its relation to the river Styx, ties to Satanic Rituals and a nearly endless body of stories that link everything from the hooked hand lovers lane killer to some of our more famous ghosts to this plot of land situated just behind Worcester Airport.
There are several roads which lead to the cemetery, none of them marked and all of them gated so that you have to venture down on foot. #3 son Adam and I made the trek down from the main road in a pretty steady rain with a pair of large umbrellas. It was just about Dusk on this cool October afternoon-- and as anyone who knows about the supernatural can tell you, dusk is the most dangerous time of day.
We found it about 1/2 mile in down a very lonely overgrown path. The cemetery is certainly still in use as we found one headstone from 2008 nearby. We didn't stay long-- the point was to find it so that when I meet Nancy Sheehan of the Telegram later this month to conduct an interview about my latest graphic novel I'm not driving around for hours watching my GPS go 'huh?'
Afterwards I watched THE EXORCIST via Netflix while I was working-- with my studio growing increasingly dark with nightfall and the whole place deserted save for the dog who seemed noticibly spooked by something-- I knocked off my latest assignment and then headed out for the deserted country roads that lead to Veronica's residency in Hardwicke. The house she's staying in is colonial and the layout is completely the opposite of our apartment--which is done as a long rectangle allowing you to see from one end to the other. This one is a series of walls and rooms that to my horror biased mind seems very much like the kind of place Leatherface would do his work-- all that's missing is a walk in freezer.
It was a perfect cap to a perfect fall New England day.
