It was a
sunny spring morning and we were taking off on an adventure to a couple “haunted” cemeteries. The first stop was the breezy shores of Lake Huron to swing by Minnie
Quay’s pink tombstone in Forester. We were in for a surprise because of all the
coins on top of the grave and some of the disrespectful litter strewn about. I
walked around filming some of the headstones and realized, off in the distance
I heard a whispering beckon it was a female's voice. The voice shrouded me, chilled
me, and I ambled toward it. Maria was walking with Cocoa, through the many
headstones, admiring some of the arcane inscriptions and detail and I was
pulled toward the icy shoreline with video rolling. Before I made it to the damp
sandy shore the female whispering faded and I looked to an old building nearby,
two buzzards perched on top of an old shack, resting from a busy day of
feasting on carrion and they followed my moves with beady untrusting eyes. Dead
leafless ash trees shrouded the old shack and the birds eyed me further. I was
startled as the whispering voice I could only identify as Quay’s continued to
lure me to the icy waters. I walked, filming, startled by how hypnotized I
became. I heard Maria call out my name in the backdrop but my head wanted me to
venture onward toward the voice. The voice a beautiful song, elegantly dancing
through the small breeze, mixed with the calm sounds of water lapping the sand,
my feet were sinking into the shore and my legs felt the pains of freezing
water that had soaked my pants. I backed up, but the voice, Quay’s, sang to me,
luring me to join her. I broke from the voice, almost instantly forgetting what
had happened and walked through the ancient tombstones and to the comforts
of our car, joining Maria and Cocoa.
Our next
stop was nestled among oak trees and old dead leaves crackling underfoot. It
was the Old Bay Port Cemetery, otherwise known as “Ora Labora” (Pray and Work).
It was an old eighteen hundreds cemetery nestled on a hill, neglected, worn and
sitting in a dark wood. It was peaceful and serene as we drove slowly down the
old Sand Road and made our way to the literal “dead end”. Maria took Cocoa for
a walk through the cemetery and I filmed. There was an odd presence of energy
as we strolled through many of the old German Colonist’s final resting places.
The colonists had settled in the area and were wiped out by illness. It was a
sad reality that all the hard work ended in death
and finality. It created a true sense that maybe our life, as well as the life
of many others as banal as it may seem, is still life and energy and ends in death, or was it a reminder that we should grasp
life each and every day because ultimately we live to die? Questions I’m sure
that surface the older we get.
You can
view the most recent video of both of these cemeteries on our newest Dark Nest
Travels video here:Ghost & Goblins Episode at Dark Nest Travels on youTube
thanks so much for coming back and journeying through this thing we call life.
I appreciate each and every one of you! Thanks for reading!
