“No…fucking…way!” Emily insists, “No way! There’s just no fucking way that this was here before!”
“It does seem…rather unlikely,” Tony agrees with a chuckle, rubbing his chin as he stares down at the water’s greenish black surface.
“Well it had to have been!” Kay shouts, throwing her arms into the air, “I mean, what are you even suggesting? That this…pond…materialized out of nowhere, in the – what, half hour? – it took us to walk to the cemetery and back?”
Kay’s aware that her passion might be casting her in an unfavorable light, as far as Tony is concerned, and experiences a mild panicked twinge. But she can’t seem to stop, all the same. The sight is plenty strange on its own, to be sure, but Emily’s not helping matters any by insisting it just appeared out of thin air.
Their trajectory must just be ever so slightly off, is all, Kay theorizes. Returning from the cemetery, they walked up that strange abandoned road, a hundred yards or whatever, to the spot Tony had been smart enough to mark, that taped up asterisk. Entered the forest again in the space between those two trees, the only two trees near that asterisk, and then right over that first lip of shoulder, off of the road and past these trees, they immediately encountered…this.
It’s small body of water, perfectly round, by appearances, and no more than maybe eight feet in diameter. The pond looks as though it were stamped out by a biscuit cutter, with impossibly smooth, reddish, Carolina clay walls leading down a good twenty four inches to the water’s surface. In its undisturbed state, the water manages to appear murky and clean all at once, dark but not at all dirty. They can detect no movement and see no objects within it, either, which compels Tony to grab a long branch and begin prodding its placid surface. Extracting the stick, it drips what sure resembles normal looking, clear water, and a sniff of the stick gives them the same impression.
But then Tony, against the girls’ vocal objections, drops down onto this belly, intent upon touching this liquid. Leaning into one another and cringing, as though expecting him to lose this hand, they watch with fascinated horror while he hangs over the edge, sticks one palm into the pool. Scoops and raises, without incident, a makeshift little cup of perfectly clear looking water. Smells again but refrains from tasting it, as he shrugs and stands up, shakes his hand dry.
The area around the pond is undisturbed, too, as far as anyone can see, just a pristine bed of these orange-brown pine needles. Still, something has to explain this, Kay concludes. Either it’s yet another elaborate prank somebody nearby has figured out how to quickly concoct – maybe even that tall man from last night – or else they are ever so slightly off course, from their voyage here, and simply missed this the first time around.
Debate rages about this find, as Tony shoots a ton of presumably professional looking footage, as the other two mimic him with their phones. And then during the surprisingly swift walk home, a leg of this trip which leaves them feeling great about their collective navigational skills. None of them questions direction or so much has to look at a phone app for course corrections. It’s just one short and graceful, gently northwest curving arc, and before they know it, roughly fifteen minutes later, the Druckers’ cabin and the brick schoolhouse both appear in view.
Arriving from this angle, they see that Liam’s office is illuminated, and can even make out his back, seated at the desk. Furthermore that he has some others in there with him, who are standing before his desk, from the looks of things possibly Grace and Clay. By mutual murmured consensus, they agree to drift in there as well, as good a place for note sharing as any.
They drift down the hallway and squeeze into the office, where they do indeed find Grace and Clay standing, but also Tom Drucker sitting in an uncomfortable looking wooden chair, one of those old fashioned, boxy numbers where the arm rests are made out of the same varnished but unadorned wooden material as the back. Tom glances up at them with a wan smirk, sketchpad in lap and pencil in hand, while Grace is beaming in a friendly if unsure manner, her apparent default setting, Clay vaguely glowering with hands on hips, as though challenging their presence.
“So?” Emily asks, eagerly rubbing her hands together, “you find anything noteworthy?”
“Eh, not really,” Clay shrugs.
“But we did see some interesting stuff!” Grace counters, as hopeful as she is positive, “there’s this bridge over the creek, see, and it’s almost totally gone!”
“What about you guys?” Clay asks, and it seems to Emily that even the taciturn, perpetually somewhat bored Liam Blodgett is peering up at them with interest. Although Tom has already turned his attention to that sketch pad, in his zone as the sketches away.
“Yeah!” Emily squeals, clasping her hands together, “did we ever!”
“It’s not as amazing as she’s making it sound, though, believe me,” Kay cautions, shooting them a let’s get real type glance.
“Is that so?” Liam questions, in this clipped, though rich sounding English accent, salt and pepper eyebrows shooting skyward. “And what’s your verdict, Mister…uh…? Since you’re apparently the tie-breaker here…”
“Mister Bender,” Tony explains with a low wattage smile, running fingers through his bushy black hair, all nerves, “Tony Bender. Or Anthony, if you prefer. But anyway ah…,” he chuckles, then continues, “I think they’re both right, in a way. I’m sure there’s a rational explanation and all, but man, this pond, I don’t know…”
As they take turns explaining this sight, Liam sits leaning forward at his desk. Elbows pressed into its scarred wooden surface, chin resting in both hands. Continually nodding without comment, like a therapist, or maybe a judge, as though anticipating this information. Only when they’ve finished speaking does he offer his take.
“Well, in fact, there’s actually a quite popular composition about this very phenomenon. Have you ever heard the Fleetwood Mac tune Hypnotized? This is what Bob Welch is singing about. He makes mention of these ponds.”
Drucker looks up from his sketch pad with one of those twisted smirks and says, “you know, I have heard that song, but I thought he was singing about palms. Strange palms, you know, with sides like glass…”
“No, no, it’s definitely about ponds,” Blodgett explains, shooting his raised eyebrows in that direction, “it’s an experience a friend of his had, and it happened not too far away from here, in fact. In some woods up around Winston-Salem. I’m sure the old interview’s rattling around somewhere online, if you really wanted to dig it up.”
“I’ll bet that was a little weird for you guys!” Grace suggests, and giggles. Arms crossed, and rubbing a hand slowly up each, goosebumps visible as she then shivers. “Possibly even creepier than the swamp and the bridge!”
“I don’t know,” Tony reflects, “did your crew get any footage? I think this pond is more tripped out than it sounds. We’re not doing it justice. I wish we had some sort of screening room around here…”
Liam purses his lips in the manner of someone considering this a valid suggestion, and scribbles something down on a sticky note.
“Unfortunately, no, I don’t suppose we did capture any pictures,” Grace says.
“Your camera can project?” Kay asks Tony, feeling a tiny jolt at having made what she thinks is a smart, useful comment. When he confirms this with a nod, she continues the point, suggesting, “these are some old classrooms. I bet they have one of those pull-down projection thingies, remember those?”
“That’s true,” he says, “or if nothing else I could always just shoot it against a plain white wall…”
“Dammit, where the hell are these guys? They must have found something really good,” Emily says. She calls Jeremy’s number, to no avail, and leaves a voice message.
So as not to disturb any of the rooms already in use, everyone drifts across the hall, to the most central of the four classrooms, one that’s not currently in use. Tom and Kathy have already begun loading their pieces the front two rooms, in addition to shoving most furniture aside and beginning to work in those as well. Yet this, and the only classroom along the school’s backside, remain unoccupied.
Despite the lack of one of those pull-down screens Kay had mentioned, though, this central classroom will work for their purposes. There’s a bare patch of wall, to the left of the desk, which is perfect even though the paint is a pale key lime. With the familiar loud, metal on tile scrape that brings up a flood of surprisingly pleasant memories for many of them, they begin turning every chair and desk ninety degrees or so in that direction.
“I’m thinking about actually working in the back classroom,” Tom tells Liam, jerks a thumb behind them, as they kick back side by side in a middle row, “you know, leave my stuff in the front one as an exhibition space, but work back there. I like the ambiance in that room better, it’s the only one with the original hardwood floors still.”
“Is that so?” Liam asks, absently nodding in approval.
“Yeah, I mean, you know, unless somebody else has already staked out one of the rooms. I don’t wanna be a space hog and crowd everyone else out.”
“No, no, that should be fine. We’ll play it by ear, though. I’m still not sure precisely what Kidwell expects of me for these tours. So that will be my primary focus this coming week.”
As Grace dims the lights and Tony begins broadcasting his footage against the wall, it takes him a few clicks and some fast forwarding to reach the desired stretch of video. Upon doing so, he plays it a few times, with and without sound, although most of those who weren’t present remain unimpressed. One exception would be their quote unquote overseer.
“You know, this reminds me, I’ve also heard Charlie Daniels make reference to these,” Blodgett recalls, “he’s a Carolina bloke too, you know, although I believe that’s more the Eastern part of the state. Venus flytrap territory. He has said these ponds inspired The Legend of Wooley Swamp, in part.”
“Wooley Swamp also mentions these ponds?” Tom questions, as though straining to think of what lyrical passage that might be.
“Well no like I say, he only mentioned this in passing once while discussing the tune, that he’s seen such as well. But as far as I know there’s no direct reference in it.”
“Great,” Tony mutters with a dry chuckle, while rewinding the footage once more, “we’ve got a…Welch Pond and a…Wooley Swamp. What have we gotten ourselves into out here?”
Emily’s not sure how anyone can joke around about any of this. Sure, okay, she alone glimpsed the tall man last night. But they seriously need to figure out what kind of pranksters are on the loose around here, and put a lid on these activities. They are threatening to ruin what still has all the potential to be a life changing residency here.
Tomorrow, she resolves to get down to some serious work, too, as her dedication has admittedly been somewhat lacking thus far. Right now, however, she just wishes Jeremy were here, and Denise. What could possibly be taking them so long? She sinks lower in her chair, near reclining, and extracts the phone from her front pocket. Its blue screen alone is somewhat soothing, she has to admit, as she sends him a third text, and now her sister, too, for good measure.
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