paranormal activity back in Cloudcroft, New Mexico

paranormal activity back in Cloudcroft, New Mexico

fiction
edward w pritchard

Love sick at 9,500 hundred feet soundly does I sleep back at the Lodge in Cloudcroft, New Mexico.

Alone with my memories across my minds eye I retrace my steps up, up, up the steep mountain roads, trod skyward across the scenic grounds of the Lodge then more higher ascending the narrow interior steps of the Hotel to the snug, warm crowded room where one sleeps as if drugged intoxicated by the altitude and thin air of the past.

Later in the Lobby I watch the paranormalists search for the Ghost of the Lodge's flirtatious chamber maid Rebecca, also the name of the Lodge's Bar and restaurant. Perhaps the play " the Mousetrap " will be performed later that night, presenting an intricate archaic mystery to be rolled about one's subconsciousness.

My ghost is secret and foreboding always alone with her secret thoughts and intentions. She sleeps soundly difficult to arouse from private slumbers worn down by invisible burdens and thousands of bloodless cuts and imperceptible bruises.

At the top of the Mountain at 11,000 feet it's difficult to breathe as one juggles two or three delicate ephemeral Anasazi pots in lifeless hands. Nearby Pueblos are lifeless, the ancient one's are vanished and silent.

Some prefer the forest trails at the tip top of a Mountain Peek 11, 000 feet above white sand desserts accessible only by a train that doesn't run anymore. Others, ghosts from the past seek eudaimonia elsewhere. Vanished, archaic, unverified but missed, extinct paranormal wanders.