Something of the Supernatural

A spirit washes over Grassy Sound. Cars wiz by above, oblivious, on the bridge that nobody loved. During my second year here, I took my paintings into the nearby beach town and put them on exhibit in the annual lighthouse street fair. People commented with extraordinary interest. For generations they have passed the mysterious structures at Grassy in their cars and boats. To an alarming degree, passers-by had no idea the Sound was inhabited. I did nothing to make them think differently. These two tiny bungalows, were once the childhood home of a special man; he now lives in number nineteen. Befriended by spirits during his innocent and accessible years of childhood, he is now completely at home with all facets of the mystical. His Grandmother who passed from this realm before his tenth year, watches over him through these cracked and foggy windows and visits with him on nights when the mood for company strikes. They sit together on his dock or in his crooked mansion and talk of nothing or go on and on about how much the world has changed.

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