Split Rock
There was a place we would go sometimes, when we were young, for quick thrills. To tease the fates. Urban legends grew here in clumps, sometimes creating shadows where truth would hide in dark nervous little pockets. There was a reservoir tucked deep in the woods that covered a piece of land too vast for any of us to know. What little we did see was just a bit in and was occasionally pock marked with buck shot. We found the shell of an abandoned school bus once. Around it was littered all manner of trash marking what didn't, just then, belong to the trees. Along the outer rim of the woods were communities that lived like imitations of suburbia. My favorite art teacher lived in one of these. The house he lived in was one he had built and he had left it the color of wood. I was never inside but did get the $3 tour of his back yard. The space he had staked out was cut from the forest and was just big enough to fit a baseball diamond, a basketball court and plenty of room for his horse...