This winter hike was quite an exploration. We started in the info center at the Watchung Reservation, preparing for the chilly task by putting mitten warmers against our hands. The rhododendrons were shriveled as if each droopy leaf was a cloak hung up by a fairy. We hoped our laughing and singing did not disturb the spirits hiding around us, as there definitely were supernatural forces this cold, still morning. Then, we reached a mostly frozen lake and stopped for a snack. BOOM. What was that? It was the lake! Deep cracks in the ice were echoing throughout the water below. We all threw stones at the lake to hear a creepy bouncy sound, as though somebody was rapping a stick against a large drum. After walking through an abandoned field and up and down hills, we finally reached the abandoned village. It was weirdly sunny here. People were walking their dogs. We drank hot chocolate and told ghost stories just feet away from a boarded up house. A chill blew through our hair and through the corner of my eye I could see the wooden house, its windows like eyes staring at me, the door a gaping mouth. As I drove home that afternoon, I felt lucky that I had been allowed to walk through this sleeping place without disturbing the old spirits within.

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by Anna Hogarth