Welcome to the Silent Woods

The Silent Woods are part of the saga of the haunted farm. The eerie quality of the woods both alluring and sinister. I think they represent the development of an oracle deck quite nicely. They "speak" in their silence in much the same way a good deck does. They cause one to pause and contemplate direction. The Journey Deck is a personal deck and as such its development is a personal endeavor. It is not really a venture to produce and publish a deck. Simply a way of celebrating a history that includes some quite unique and interesting aspects. I mean when you grow up on a haunted farm...there's just a whole lot of stuff that happens in life...and as a woman of "age" I think it is a wonderful way to pass down family history and leave a "mark" so to speak.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Card 48: Nightly Visitor

Doors are interesting things...don't you agree? They let people in and out of buildings, churches, stores and our homes. With the twist of the knob someone new and interesting might enter into our lives but living on the haunted farm made me come to realize that many feelings and many things  can come with the turning of the knob.
It was in the darkest hours of the night that the turning of the knob could signal our almost nightly visitor.  This phenomena happened as far back as I can remember. Perhaps it was always there like the little man in the attic but my knowledge of it lay hidden in the dark recesses of my mind. Tucked away like a key to something I would never truly understand.
I can't really remember exactly when it floated into my consciousness and even now it amazes me how seldom we talked about it.  On many nights, well past two in the morning we would either be awakened by the sound of the front door opening or by our small dog barking vigorously at something in the living room.
The layout of the small house was such that my bedroom door opened into the living room but was slightly obscured by a enclosed staircase that led up to the attic. Slightly down from my room was the door into my parents bedroom. Sometimes my father would get up and try to sneak silently into the living room to catch a glimpse of whoever or whatever entered.
The door was old and creaked. We seldom locked it and quite honestly I'm not sure there even was a lock for many years but regardless the visitor had no problems entering.  With the creaking of the door the dog usually charged into the living room. As I lay silently in my bed I could hear the dog's paws clicking on the wooden floor. Not just clicking but jumping up on something and then falling to the floor again, and again, and again.
Once again I am struck by the oddness that I don't remember any fear. Perhaps the fear became buried under all the layers of twisted oddity that occurred in the house, the woods, the lane and in our lives. I know there were some nights when we were curious, perhaps even slightly anxious but not the gripping fear you might expect when you "think" someone is in the next room and you wonder what they want and why they are there.
When it awakened me I can assure you I didn't have the courage to hop out of bed and blunder out into the living room to investigate but neither did I lay quivering in my bed filled with dread. Generally I waited and after a bit the dog fell silent and most of the time before I drifted back to sleep I would hear the door again as our nightly visitor left.

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