Thursday, June 23, 2011
(Above: Graves in the grass, house in the distance)
Across from the summer home was a cemetery. When we were kids, we'd forget it was there because the grasses would grow up and no one would cut them back. Each summer we'd arrive and rediscover it as if we forgot it even existed. There weren't many headstones, but they were scattered out and if you ran through the grass and didn't know it, you could whack into one and knock the wind right out of you. More than a few times, I would get tackled by one.
In the evening around twilight when it was more dark than light outside and the lightning bugs cradled the pecan trees outside the turret bedroom, I would sit there and brush out my long hair and sit on the bed, studying the direction of the cemetery.
It didn't happen all the time, but upon occasion, a blue ball of light, perhaps the size of a baseball or softball would float around in the graveyard, going up and down, weaving in and out of the grasses, obscured by a headstone, rising back up again and flickering slightly before it fizzled out. These blue balls of light were usually just one, but a couple of times, another ball of light joined it, not dancing with it, but also in the same area, moving up and down, in and out. These lights were unusual. They were soft, but not fuzzy as if the light were contained within the ball shape, yet the moisture in the air seemed to make them seem a bit softer looking and not perfectly sharp edged.
I went racing out a few times to try and intercept the blue light, but it would be gone. I did notice where it was in relation to the plants around it. There were headstones below the grasses, but sometimes the light seemed to dance far away from the house and graveyard before I could no longer see it, so it didn't seem to be particularly seeking a certain spot.
What were these magical lights? I'll never know, but I tend to think that in the swampy area, it could have been some unusual phenomena that is nature-based in origin. It didn't seem to pick a particular grave to hang around.
These sorts of mysteries have plagued me all my life, trying to figure out what factors made it show itself one night and not another, what might have instigated it, if it was based on geology or some other conditions, perhaps even spirit-based. I seek answers to these wonders and I wonder at their answers.
Now, you officially know from last week's stories about Aspen Grove and this week's about my summer home on the Chesapeake, what made me come up with theories and seek knowledge and insight.