Christmas Story

Originally established in 1874 as a lumbering town that was latter burned to the ground because of an outbreak of cholera and smallpox.  The town was eight and one-half miles northwest on the Jackson, Lansing & Saginaw rail line and not far from Grayling Michigan. Remnants still exist as brick foundations from homes and stores that shot out from the broken ground in the tall White Pine forests where the town was located. The railroad tracks still go through the old town, but are covered in ferns and ash trees now.  Pere Cheney and especially the cemetery have an especially unique designation here in Michigan as one of the most haunted places in state, if not the Midwest. (Note: I did not know this back in 1972).  But I have a story about a visit Id made to the town one Christmas day while up north celebrating our own Christmas back on my families property not far away.
Christmas day was winding down at our place and I decided to take in an evening hunt near Pere Cheny. There never seemed to be many locals or others hunting near the town even during the regular hunting season, which I found odd because of the plentiful Whitetail population in around the area. I would frequently hunt on holidays after all the fanfare and dinners and opening of presents. Thanksgiving was always a hunting day for me after everybody ate also. They would all be sitting around and I would go hunt until I couldn’t see in the woods anymore.  Anyway, Christmas day ended as all others have in the past and it just seemed appropriate for me to get in a hunt before nightfall.
With my muzzloader in my hands I wandered off into the woods near off the snowmobile trail, which was just groomed a couple of days prior. I had to walk in a good ¼ mile to get to the land that surrounds the cemetery making sure to stay away from the headstones and old fence that used to be there but know was lying on the ground and covered. But it was barbed wire, so I made sure not to get close. I hunkered against a tree and leaned against it. The air was cold and I could see my breath as it came out and kinda just hung there in front of me and slowly drifted away.  No wind that evening. In the distance I heard a dog bark and what sounded like kids playing and yelling.  It seemed far away though.
In the distance between the pines I seen a flicker of light and thought I had heard something. I decided to move closer to the sound. I spotted a doe about 50 yards away and decided not to take a shot this time. I was looking for a rack now because I already had my freezer full and it was Christmas and I really didn’t care if I shot anything this evening. As I walked closer to the sound the light seemed to show more through the trees. The sun was still out but just barely. It was getting dark in the pines though but I could still see. I didn’t however want to wander off to far from the road less I can’t find my way back. I’ve been lost in the woods before and I had no intention of doing it again. Anyway, I spotted what looked like a small tree with ice sickles hanging from it and the last part of sun was glimmering off them as it set in the west.  Ahh, I said, the wonders of the woods. I stared at the tree and realized it was in the cemetery itself. I had wandered in further than I had thought.
The bark of the dog was again in my ears but it was close, very close. The sounds of the laughing stopped that I had heard earlier. There is an old concrete building in the cemetery which still stood at the time. I’ve been told that’s where they kept the bodies of those who died in the winter until spring when they could be properly buried after the ground thawed. The building was partially obstructing my view so I moved. Once I seen the tree with the ice on it, all became quiet and I could no longer see my breath when I exhaled. My heart pounded for a couple of minutes and then my breath became clear again. This is the weird part of all of this. As I approached the tree I noticed that the snow at the base of the tree was all flattened out. All around it like there had been a bunch of kids running around it and there dog prints in the snow that lead to the edge of the pine forest.
Nobody could have gotten back in there while I was there and nobody could have exited the grounds unless they went back through the Pere Marquette forest which is about 3,000 acres where Pere Cheney sits. My stomach got sick and it was getting dark and it was very quiet now. No rustling of squirrels, birds or anything. I don’t know to this day what if anything I had interrupted back there.  I ran back to my truck and threw my gear in it and just sat there for moment trying to regain my composure so I could drive.
As scared as I was I didn’t mention a thing to anybody. What did I just miss back there? Who was there around that tree and why did they leave when I approached and worse yet, where did they go into the woods like that? Ill never know but after a few years I’ve come to terms that maybe Christmas is still celebrated back in Pere Cheney.

All the children that died back then, the little headstones not telling their story and only showing death and sorrow maybe Christmas is still as special now to them as it was back then. No gifts like our children expect now, maybe it was just a nice turkey dinner back then and some handmade sweaters and gloves for the kids. I can’t explain the tree, the dog barking and the matted snow around the tree that seemed to light up from the remaining sun that hung on that afternoon. Maybe there was a purpose that I seen that tree. Maybe I was suppose to see the tree as a reminder of what Christmas was and still should be. Maybe, this year, Ill go back with my kids and tell the story.