Feel The Chill: Forever Holes

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” . . . the whole cave would be filled with people fighting, getting lost in there, falling down forever holes.”

“Forever holes?” moaned Blossom.

“A hole that goes on forever with no bottom,” he said.

—from A Reason To Forget: Training Games

Did you feel the chill? Did you immediately see the movie hero falling, arms outstretched, clawing at the rock walls, screaming into the abyss?

But forever holes don’t really exist, do they?

Pit caves are as close to forever holes as it gets, and Walker County, Georgia is home to Ellison’s Cave and its Fantastic Pit, the deepest unobstructed pit cave in the continental United States. The drop is 586 feet. And Blossom would be the last person to attempt to descend to its depths.

Want to see the real deal. Visit the Walker County, Georgia website at https://walkercountyga.gov/discover/recreation/caving/.

Try not to scream!

Feel The Chill: Sounds in the Night

In the daylight, our rural backyard is a couple of acres of grass surrounded by a few more acres of trees meant for nature viewing and storm gazing. Wild turkeys, turtles, fox, squirrel, and myriad birds are only a few of our visitors. But at night, the real fun begins. Deer always bed down in a soft patch of zoysia near the garage. Raccoon routinely traipse across from tree line to tree line, oblivious to the resident owls that swoop from our arbor to the garden patch. Occasionally, a skunk is frightened by our air unit, and well, you know what he does! And oh, golly, that means three days of airing out the house!

At other times, while we are lying in bed trying to drift off into a peaceful sleep, my husband will ask me if I hear them, but thanks to years of playing drums, that particular register is lost to me, especially when they are far away. Tonight, as I began working on my scary, suspenseful first blog post, it was a different story and so appropriate for the launch of my new mystery/suspense website.

The sound chilled me to the bone.

Sitting in deep concentration, surrounded by three walls of night-blackened windows in our sunroom, their yelps and howls penetrated the glass as if they were right beside me. My primal fear of fangs sent my heart racing, but I had the last laugh. I bounded to the window, tripped over my own feet, hit the glass, and scared the dickens out of a massive—had to be a thousand of them—pack of coyotes.

Feel the chill below.


And yes, that squirrel on the last slide has a stolen yellow squash from my husband’s garden! He (or she) hauled it up the tree after this picture was taken!