Pareidolia -
When I first stumbled across photos
on the internet of Savannah’s deserted gunpowder magazine, I knew I had to find
a way to work the structure into the Witching Savannah series. I set out one
drizzly February morning to visit the crenelated red brick building, but
finding it proved no small feat. My
imagination began to convince me that it was under some enchantment, as even
though I had seen pictures and found old news articles that mention the
building, the magazine itself seemed to have faded from the memory of nearly
every local. I knew it was located off Ogeechee Road—actually an article I
found said that it was plainly visible from that stretch, nestled in among a grove
of trees. What I had failed to consider was the age of the article. Those
nestling trees had grown up and filled out since publication, and now screened the magazine from view.
I spent what seemed like hours traveling up
and down Ogeechee Road, peering out through fogged windows, stopping once at
the side of the road when I thought for sure I had finally found it, only to
realize I was sorely mistaken. The sad thing was I even had the exact longitude
and latitude for the structure, but alas, my GPS system wanted nothing to do
with degrees, minutes and seconds. It wanted good, solid street addresses or
nothing. Nearly frustrated to the point of giving up, I pulled into the parking
lot of an auto parts store that I knew had to be in the magazine’s general
location.
I went in and spoke to a clerk, describing the
building, its history—as best I knew it—and its appearance. He was sorry, but
he had never heard of the place. He did offer to ask someone who was working in
the back if she knew of it. The young woman came out, and I launched anew into
my spiel, when she smiled and pointed over my shoulder. “I think you are
talking about the building next door.” And, yes, as it turned out, the
gunpowder magazine was sitting a few yards away on the far side of their
parking lot. Needless to say, learning it was next door to an auto parts store
did strip away some of the building’s romantic glamour. But still, I had gone
to all this trouble to find the place, so I crossed the lot and managed a four
point landing in the ravine that separates the wooded area that houses the
magazine and the auto parts establishment.
I felt convinced I had wasted my
time, until I caught sight of the single story red brick castle. Like much of
the rest of Savannah, it was so accessible and surrounded by the everyday, but somehow
still magical and haunting. I hadn’t even finished brushing the dirt from my
knees before I began imagining Jilo and Mercy hiding out here, working magic
together. Even with the sounds of a steady flow of traffic coming off Ogeechee,
this place seemed secluded, somewhat out of sync with both its mundane surroundings
and the year in which I had come to visit it. A misty Savannah morning paired
itself with this writer’s overly active imagination to convince me that even though
there was no one else around, I was not alone. In that moment, Savannah wore
down what remained of my healthy skepticism, and I found myself taking photos,
convinced that one of them would show more than had met my naked eye.
Let me make one thing clear: I am not a believer
that orbs are in any way supernatural. I
chalk them up to dust or insects or pixilation, but just as there are few
atheists at 30,000 feet, Savannah had a way making me question this. I will
leave you to be the judge. The building
was locked, but there was a gap large enoughfor me to put my camera through and snap
a couple of photos. The following is a blown-up version of an orb caught in one
of these photos.
In it I see the face of a man with a
shaved head and mustache. He appears to be wearing sunglasses. Pareidolia, you say? I’m certain you are right. At
least I am right now, sitting thousands of miles away from Savannah. Still,
haunted or no, you will encounter this setting in the very first pages of THE
SOURCE (Witching Savannah #2) coming out on June 3rd.
