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The spookiest part of the cemetery is the cat. It’s been months since I’ve
last seen it wandering around. I tend to avoid mentioning it in the reports.
It must sound crazy. Spotted black cat walking out of the cemetary. Invar-
iably I omit black, concerned about it’s superstitious implications.

I know it is silly. Late, at the magic hour, when everyone is asleep, ~2,
and I am alone on the path to the cemetery I feel eyes from the woods. It
is impossible to ignore. The air shifts. I am suddenly aware of how expo-
sed I am. When it snows, you can see the ground, but otherwise it is a b-
lanketed void.

I shine a light. Green reflections from animal eyes startle me. It doesn’t
happen often. It is only natural. All is silent. Still. Then, a fox darts
across the path. It is startling. Our brains are hardwired for recognizing
and detecting movement. Paranoia has an evolutionary basis.

The omen of a black cat, though, is difficult to shake. I see deer; rabbit-
s; skunks; possums; turkeys; birds. These are expected in natural environm-
ents. You see a cat you look for a collar. Cats have been domesticated for
thousands of years. Nature is not their natural environment.

Especially this far away from people. On a freezing night in winter. It’s
looked at me several times. Sizing me up. Late at night, I always see cat-
s. Mostly in urban environments crossing streets. I laugh at the sight of
their little legs running. Centipedal in some odd way.

I hear them fight. I’ve seen them, at weary drunken hours, in the middle
of streets making unearthly sounds at each other. I’ve heard sounds of pr-
imordial violence and death from the woods through my window. I heard su-
ch a sound a few weeks ago.

This is another concern. I’ve seen all kinds of animals. Foxes, the bast-
ards that they are, poach squirrels and run in circles with them in thei-
r mouths. Twitching. Everyone hates squirrels. No one bats an eye if som-
eone shoots them with a beebee gun. UMASS Amherst can perform experiments
introducing new species into the woods. Who cares?

But cats? If you see a fox walking around with a dead cat in it’s mouth
it’s going to fuck up your day/night. That is a greater concern to me t-
han the bad juju associated with black cats. What if it gets attacked?
Where did this thing come from?

I saw a turkey corpse with it’s head ripped off about two weeks ago. The
sun was just going down and it lay there in the bloody snow. I was drawn
to the area because of the thousands of feathers strewn about. And the w-
ing. Whatever the predator was, it ripped off the wing and it’s head. It
was horrific gore which set an ominous tone.

Lady K told me it was likely an owl that ripped off the head. The wing, I
was told, was ripped off to prevent it from flying away. She mentioned it
was likely that several different animals had their way with the corpse.
Later, around the magic hour, I entered the cemetery & noticed the corpse
was gone.

It had been taken some time in the previous hour. It’s moments like that
which inspire paranoid glances into the woods.

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