High above the sleeping lavender fields lies the remains of a village I will not name.
Odd of me, I know and not terribly professional but so be it. Up we climbed, as always with Ben, our Golden, running back to me with impatience. Come on, time to discover. Hurry up to find.
The village had been abandoned long ago. And I mean really abandoned as in “take the last ball of yarn” not the semi-recluse yet nonetheless charming villages that I have visited before.
And yet, oddly, it felt alive. Very present. The simple beauty of the church, the force of the vines pushing through the house’s foundations as if they were holding the walls in place for their owners to come back.
The texture of the stone was exceptional, fascinating. All of those many nicks by hand. Fitting into each other long after the mortar had evaporated. Worn away by a trilling wind.
I began taking photos like mad.
And yet a wave of cold washed over me. Stopped me in my tracks. I raised my head and looked out over the horizon. The farthest hills had turned black with the snow clouds rumbling. Could it be just the temperature falling?
Remi was working, Ben was with him. I felt so drawn to this place, almost euphoric at times but then again, that chill would come out of nowhere.
Mysterious arches led to deep tunnels in the ground, I did not dare see where they went. I scampered up higher where the sun shone brighter. Remi was there and he met my gaze questioningly but said nothing.
In a clearing a large tree raised its branches like proud crows wings and the edges were tipped in the red of new growth. A glowing red. A circle of carefully laid stones was in front of its trunk. Something wasn’t right.
I crossed behind the church towards one of the outer buildings. I heard a deep rustle from within the buildings shell. Louder than a small animal rustle and yet there are no large animals in these parts. “Remi?” I called out, moving quickly away.
I found him with Ben and I don’t remember who asked it but we both quickly agreed. Haunted. The sun was diving fast as we found the cemetery. I didn’t dare go in. Remi did. There were only three graves and it made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. And I think it goes without saying that he is not a man that spooks easily.
Still I felt within me a pull to stay even while I felt a stronger need to get off that mountain before the sun set. We did. Its beauty was undeniable and the light otherworldly. I will spread my frantic photos out over a few posts.
Oh and the reason why I won’t tell you the name? Not because it is haunted, I realize that is up for debate. But as we came down from the village, I saw a sign that I had somehow missed in my initial excitement: “Proprieté Privé, Acces Interdit, Danger”. Private property, no access allowed, danger.
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It makes you wonder why a place so high up and with the perfect setting was abandoned. Perhaps the souls you felt were simply people needing company. Love your images of a past long forgotten.
Enjoy your day!
XX
Debra~
I love the way you captured the sky. I can get completely lost in a French sky; you can see the paintings in them.
I have to forward this to my friend Charley of 365thingsiloveaboutfrance because she is writing a Cathar ghost stories compilation. Maybe you can share the name of the area with her?
aidan
Spoooooky!! LOVE these pictures so much! Especially the ones where the buildings are lit up with golden light with the dark sky in the background – beautiful. In the photo with the monument with the cross on top, I think I see your shadow – or is it a ghost?? Ooooooooo!!! I love it!
Another outing captured as only you can do!Stunning photos and even more Stunning words…………
So, your here state side?!!Welcome HOME!
I wonder what the backstory is of the abandoment.
Merci, mon amie. But you know, there was tons of sunlight when we arrived and it ALREADY felt…strange. Some bad memories there for someone, for sure…
That is just the most lovely compliment Lindley–thank you very, very much!
Merci Francine, mais franchement…I really don't think that you want to go!
Well, Poet Whale, that monument is by the cematary and where it was the scariest–coincidence or not?