It was in such a place that I found myself a while back.
Was it years ago? Months? Days?
I can no longer tell.
The first indication that this was a place like no other was the song of the crickets, unusually loud and enticing. They were tucked far away in the back corner and I found myself drawn to them like sailors drawn to a siren on the rocks.
Perhaps it was the crickets lullaby that eased and opened my mind for what was to come, lulling me into a state of readiness.
Things began to shift and change, slowly at first as to almost not startle me but then must faster. I looked around, shocked to find that things had become a cross over between time past and times to come.
Everything aged around me and I became surrounded by the words of the dead, was this some kind of trial communication? Or was I being warned?
Time lost all meaning and I began to live two lives, my own and that of the person who used to work in this strange place. How many hours had she spent here? Locked away from everyone else, toiling away among the stacks of paper and the oily machinery.
Had she enjoyed her work? Or was she trapped here, alone?
A moment of brief contact and then the world swam again, shifting and changing and becoming something far darker. I found myself pulled upstairs to where the sound of singing could be heard. A soft lullaby that seemed to echo that of the crickets that had first led me here.
At first I couldn't focus properly, the song filling my head and making it impossible to concentrate on the spectre in front of me. But soon after it had washed over me she became still, never speaking but still saying so much.
What passed between us is something I will never forget, nor will I ever say, for it was meant just for me. Time shivered and she was gone, her presence lingering in the air though.
She is still there, they all are.
Locked away in a time that can not be still nor can never move past.
Photographer: kwn!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/veggiedog/sets/
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