Haunted Legends by Ellen Datlow

Author:Ellen Datlow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

The Jersey Devil isn’t the weirdest thing in New Jersey by a long shot. As a matter of fact, I have neighbors that make him look like a patsy. The creature has gotten the most publicity, though, which is a shame because there are literally hundreds of legends that exist in and around the Pine Barrens. There’s The White Stag, The Black Doctor, The Atco Phantom, Captain Kidd at Reed’s Bay, The Rabbit Woman, Jerry Munyhon (a kind of Barrens wizard who, when turned down for a job at Hanover Furnace, cast a spell and filled it with black and white crows), more ghosts from every era than you can shake a stick at, and that’s not mentioning any of the Lenape legends.

If you live here for a while and keep your eyes and ears open to these tales, as I do, being a writer of the fantastic, it soon becomes evident that there is something about the place that engenders legend. Part of this has to do with the enormity of the wilderness, its loneliness and mazelike quality, but I think the main reason is that there is some kind of sentient energy at its heart, as if it was conscious and scheming, imbuing the lives of those who live in it or near it with some measure of its primordial consciousness. The feeling is palpable. I’ve only felt this from a landscape in one other place I’ve been: the Scottish Highlands. I spent ten days there once in a cottage near the Isle of Skye. The place was remarkably beautiful, but haunted. There was a pervasive feeling of melancholy and loneliness mixed into the spectacular views of the mountains and lochs. I definitely felt as if the place was alive, like some sleeping giant, dreaming. “Down Atsion Road” is my attempt to chronicle the supernatural influence of the Barrens. Believe me when I tell you that most of this story is true, and the parts that aren’t are the incidentals. The strange wilderness has been shaping legends since humanity first set foot here. They crisscross and interconnect like a web. Through them, it communicates with us. Consider this, a vast piece of real estate in the Northeast, within commuting distance of New York City, remains virtually untouched. Think of the money it would be worth to developers, think of the towns and malls and roads that could be cut into it. As other landscapes fall to the onslaught of “progress,” the Barrens has retained itself. Pretty damn cunning, if you ask me.

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