DSettahr
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The sign beside the path read: “TO THE TWO GRAVES OF PETER SAVERIE AND ELIZA A. KING OF LITTLE CANADA.” I paused in the gathering darkness, debating whether to deviate from my route, or to continue on towards my destination. The last rays of daylight were disappearing through the looming crowns of the trees above, and I was eager to make it John Pond, my planned camp for the evening.
I was intrigued, however, by the mystery of what lay down this overgrown path that split off from the main trail. In planning my excursion into the Siamese Ponds Wilderness, I'd noticed the spot marked on the map with the simple label “Cemetery.” Perhaps more than any other spot on the map, my eyes had been drawn here again and again as I found myself wondering: who was buried there? Had they lived nearby? How did they die? When all came to an end for them, did they close their eyes peacefully, having lived a fulfilling life?
All of this deliberation was, of course, pointless. I knew all along that my desire to explore would, despite the lateness of the hour and the desire to make camp for the night, send me down the wild, untrammeled path in search of the cemetery. I sighed, and left the trodden tract behind and plunged into the depths of the forest. In contrast to the main trail, which followed the wide lane of an old woods road, the side path was quite filled in with vegetation, and I was often forced to push branches out of the way as I climbed uphill to a small clearing in the woods.
Two graves, side by side and marked with wooden crosses, awaited me in the clearing. It was obvious that for some, this was sacred ground, as the clearing was well cared for. A simple wooden fence guarded the graves, and fallen logs nearby told the story of a tree than had been blown down across the clearing, temporarily obscuring the interred tombs until some benevolent caretaker had freed them. A sign on a tree nearby explained that they, a young boy and girl, had died as a result of Diptheria.
Children! These had been mere children, barely old enough even to comprehend what it meant to live and die when death sucked their last breaths away. In my minds eye, I could picture them- growing up together, exploring and playing in the woods together, for what must have seemed like only a brief instant before they were taken from this earth. And indeed, I imagined the childish laughter they must have shared as they ran together through the woods, beneath the towering pines, not knowing the fate that must've laid in wait for them, far sooner than they could have possible anticipated.
As I imagined what their lives must have been like, my neck began to prickle, and my ears to twitch. I wondered if the laughter that I heard was all in my head. Was that trickling of voices that seemed so distant in time and space imagined? Or was there really something out there, running between the trees, leaving traces here and there of sweet, innocent, deceptive laughter? I continued to listen... the running chimes both dropped in pitch and gained in intensity. Just when I was fully expecting some spectral apparition to emerge from the woods and confront me, a gust of wind burst out of the darkness and into the clearing, enveloping me with the sensation of sound and motion before it continued on its way through the forest.
Calm returned to the clearing, and I laughed at my anxiety. It was late, and time for me to move on. I quickly said a silent prayer for those who lain in the isolated clearing for so long, and made my way back to the old road. As I started down towards John Pond, the first rays of the moon started to peak through the trees ahead of me, lighting the trail with a pale, ghostly radiance.
It was then that saw them. An older girl, with her younger brother, walking hand in hand down the old road, enshrouded in blue luminescence, perhaps from the moon, perhaps from within. The boy was crying, calling out, pleading even, for someone, anyone, an adult to come and put his mind at ease, and his sister, though obviously frightened herself, was singing a soothing song to calm him. Her words, and the soft melody of her voice, however, did absolutely nothing to halt the chill that had suddenly spread throughout my body and gripped my heart.
I was intrigued, however, by the mystery of what lay down this overgrown path that split off from the main trail. In planning my excursion into the Siamese Ponds Wilderness, I'd noticed the spot marked on the map with the simple label “Cemetery.” Perhaps more than any other spot on the map, my eyes had been drawn here again and again as I found myself wondering: who was buried there? Had they lived nearby? How did they die? When all came to an end for them, did they close their eyes peacefully, having lived a fulfilling life?
All of this deliberation was, of course, pointless. I knew all along that my desire to explore would, despite the lateness of the hour and the desire to make camp for the night, send me down the wild, untrammeled path in search of the cemetery. I sighed, and left the trodden tract behind and plunged into the depths of the forest. In contrast to the main trail, which followed the wide lane of an old woods road, the side path was quite filled in with vegetation, and I was often forced to push branches out of the way as I climbed uphill to a small clearing in the woods.
Two graves, side by side and marked with wooden crosses, awaited me in the clearing. It was obvious that for some, this was sacred ground, as the clearing was well cared for. A simple wooden fence guarded the graves, and fallen logs nearby told the story of a tree than had been blown down across the clearing, temporarily obscuring the interred tombs until some benevolent caretaker had freed them. A sign on a tree nearby explained that they, a young boy and girl, had died as a result of Diptheria.
Children! These had been mere children, barely old enough even to comprehend what it meant to live and die when death sucked their last breaths away. In my minds eye, I could picture them- growing up together, exploring and playing in the woods together, for what must have seemed like only a brief instant before they were taken from this earth. And indeed, I imagined the childish laughter they must have shared as they ran together through the woods, beneath the towering pines, not knowing the fate that must've laid in wait for them, far sooner than they could have possible anticipated.
As I imagined what their lives must have been like, my neck began to prickle, and my ears to twitch. I wondered if the laughter that I heard was all in my head. Was that trickling of voices that seemed so distant in time and space imagined? Or was there really something out there, running between the trees, leaving traces here and there of sweet, innocent, deceptive laughter? I continued to listen... the running chimes both dropped in pitch and gained in intensity. Just when I was fully expecting some spectral apparition to emerge from the woods and confront me, a gust of wind burst out of the darkness and into the clearing, enveloping me with the sensation of sound and motion before it continued on its way through the forest.
Calm returned to the clearing, and I laughed at my anxiety. It was late, and time for me to move on. I quickly said a silent prayer for those who lain in the isolated clearing for so long, and made my way back to the old road. As I started down towards John Pond, the first rays of the moon started to peak through the trees ahead of me, lighting the trail with a pale, ghostly radiance.
It was then that saw them. An older girl, with her younger brother, walking hand in hand down the old road, enshrouded in blue luminescence, perhaps from the moon, perhaps from within. The boy was crying, calling out, pleading even, for someone, anyone, an adult to come and put his mind at ease, and his sister, though obviously frightened herself, was singing a soothing song to calm him. Her words, and the soft melody of her voice, however, did absolutely nothing to halt the chill that had suddenly spread throughout my body and gripped my heart.
