I am thoroughly discontented right now. I cannot manage to find my camera chord that plugs into my computer to put the pictures on.
I have very strange, ghostly pictures to post... although maybe I shouldn't. I am a strong believer in spirits, I mean, why not? Today, I had my first walk- in into the office of horror.
Ah ah ah, too dramatic. Really what I mean is that I walked into, found a way in, aka made a way in, to a bath house made in 1850's or so. This exploration was in Sharon Springs, Up state New York. I cleared some brush, stepped over some rotting pieces of wood, and stepped through a hole in the wall. *Looks behind shoulder in paranoia*
Eerie, blue, and old the building was. Those descriptions, along with rotting, absolutely inspiring/ mysterious, and chipping also rammed into my mind, now hidden behind a sheath of awe. My mind suddenly took on the mentality of someone walking into a trap/ museum.
Instantly, as instantaneous as instant-ality can be, I though of ghost hunters, Supernatural, and all those shows that debut on Discovery and other channels during the daytime. Why was I here?
Then I saw the antiquity of it all, and a new image swept into my mind, of my 10th grade History teacher, a fanatic one might say. He once said that he was in the proximity of Napoleon's death-curtains. "Posted: DO NOT TOUCH", meant little to the man who gets thrills by touching history. So, he did. Touch it that is. His interpretation was funny.
But I wasn't in a safe gaurded place, I was near fading history, history that I was convinced held death.
But a bath-house... really? Did someone drown? All quite possible, not out of the ordinary, I'd say.
We were in a strip of hall way lined with doors every couple of feet and in these small rooms were angular old bathtubs, just sitting there. I didn't expect them to be floating but, still, they were just sitting.
And then, mind you I need to go lock my shutters now, - I walked down the hall and stared into a bigger room while my friend was the opposite way taking pictures, and looked down.
Hair, from a broom, no that's not fur why would that be fur? Hm looks like wool. Oh, is that a duck head? What? Why would a duck head have hooves as a face? Oh.
"OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. HEY. HEY LOOK AT THIS... COME HERE!" stumbled out of my mouth as I took in the site of a discarded deer leg with the shoulder bone, white, still sharp edged and potruding, as if to be re-connected with a body some day in the future. A little ahead, the spine and ribs. The latter material was indeed animal skin, much to my wide-eyed recognition.
I backed away, although I was still, strangely captivated. Lemme say, if someone is telling you to go to something they're backing away from, do not go.
I did not get a picture of that and we left soon after.
I am considering, though, to delete my photos of that place if something doesn't delete them for me... mysteriously you know? I can imagine looking at my photos of the day and seeing them file into the trash can of their own accord. Or maybe, a face will show up in the picture, just floating along by.
I have something to post from one of my favorite books this week, but as I have posted a story already, and people these days seldom take the time to read long things, I will wait until tomorrow.
In the mean time, I highly recommend the book My Life and Hard Times, by James Thurber. It is hilarious, published in '33. It is the funniest take on human error and common sense I have ever read.