Dawn Berkoski

As I roamed the dark streets of Bisbee, Arizona, I felt like I was being watched. It was as if I had become a curiosity, an earthbound attraction for ghosts.

I tried to ignore the feeling. I focussed on taking photos of interesting architecture, staircases, and historic buildings. I love capturing dark alleyways and city streets at night. But the skin crawling feeling kept making me turn and stare deep into the dark.

Waiting. Listening.

I had felt a similar presence before, too many times, hovering around my house, my loved ones, a silent presence with no presence at all. Death. I had seen it just recently when my mother passed away. Only, this wasn’t the death I knew.

I started to grow curious too.

But curiosity can kill a black cat.

So, I went on my way, wanting to capture this moment of time, this cool but pleasant January evening, where multi-colored string lights swayed across the streets, long after the festivities had ended, the white poinsettia had wilted, and the candlelight vigil had ceased.

The eyes watching my back remained, and a squirmy uncomfortable pressure steadily grew at the base of my skull. It seemed to flare in certain places, like City Park, an abandoned building, a dead-end street.

It was as if I was being poked on my spine. Maybe it wasn’t a spirt at all. Maybe it was something worse. Perhaps an entity that I encountered on another trip.

I should have been scared.

All of my shots kept coming out blurry or altered in some strange way. And when I finally found the intersection that I had desperately wanted to photograph, a gate with two winged creatures hovering over it, I only managed a few quick shots before all of my electronics suddenly drained of power.

I have no explanation.

If there is one, it’s probably buried in a grave.

Dawn B~