Michigan

The open field looked big but the woods here are bigger. The creek is deeper than you thought. You’re losing your path. You’re losing your path. You’re losing-

[dontgointothefieldalone]

I was never meant to stay

Too many ghosts

I’ve died too many times, myself

[dontgointothefieldalone]

Is anybody out there?

[dontgointothefieldalone]

I was never meant to stay

Too many ghosts

I’ve died too many times, myself

[dontgointothefieldalone]

“Have you also learned that secret from the river; that there is no such thing as time?" That the river is everywhere at the same time, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the current, in the ocean and in the mountains, everywhere and that the present only exists for it, not the shadow of the past nor the shadow of the future.”

-Herman Hesse

[highways-are-liminal-spaces]

I found a door to another world in the woods last weekend

North Ferrisburgh, Vermont

[pandavalkyrie]

Hi I live in Richmond VA and I love my city so much, this morning 60 people woke up to find old television sets just sitting on their porches or lawns. Even better, those with security cameras recorded the person(s) responsible and they cannot be identified because they were wearing a jumpsuit and tv on their head

[pandavalkyrie]

A new local cryptid I’m so stoked

[shiftythrifting]

Shifty find: a dead butterfly. Not for sale, but a little kid left it on a shelf for someone to find as a “nice suprise,” from what the cashier told me when I asked them why the hell a dead butterfly was on a shelf

[yesterdaysprint]

Battle Creek Enquirer, Michigan, February 23, 1957

[vintagecamping]

Two men, a woman, and a dog at a trailer in Hiawatha National Forest.

Michigan, 1960

[arcane-constellations]

American Summer

[spacebeige]

[si-c]

the question should have never been about who we had to hide from. the answer was always in the back of our throats, on the very tips of our tongues. we could never go out at night, never stray too far from the yard during sunset.the way the air stuck to the walls, to our bodies– there were no crickets during summer nights. the eyes that watched us were anything but holy. there was no divinity in those fields.

[florescentlcvesickness]

[dontgointothefieldalone]

The fire burns with a purpose that only the trees and field know.

[dontgointothefieldalone]

Do you think the moon is lonely? Or is she perfectly content?

[dontgointothefieldalone]

The field is calling ?

Do you hear it ?

Go into the corn for a new story

[kimikaami]

Midwestern Gothic is driving 45 minutes home from one of your weekly football games. You pass through multiple towns with less than 200 people. Most of the houses barely count as houses, some, paint peeling, and others already collapsing in on themselves. You drive by one and do a double take. There’s a group of toilets in the yard, purposefully arranged in a perfect circle. For some reason. A mile farther and you’re back between the corn and soybean fields. A sign looms in the darkness assuring you that Hell Is Real. Your mother snaps at you to ‘quit gawking’ and help her watch for deer. This is home.

[goldenprairies]

this one room schoolhouse and teacherage were built in 1914. these buildings were 20 miles down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. in the early 1900s, young women would reside here to teach and i can’t imagine what a lonely, isolated situation that must’ve been.