A month ago I posted an article about the odd attraction people have to our parking lot and speculated that some type of mystical force might be at work. This week I present definitive proof that our parking lot is possessed. I’ve already discussed how Dublin residents are inextricably drawn to our parking lot like […]
A month ago I posted an article about the odd attraction people have to our parking lot and speculated that some type of mystical force might be at work. This week I present definitive proof that our parking lot is possessed.
I’ve already discussed how Dublin residents are inextricably drawn to our parking lot like moths to a flame. What I failed to mention in my previous post was that you do not even need to live around here to be affected by its evil power; its spell has gone viral.
For many years the editorial staff of Yankee Magazine has been baffled by the popularity of our webcam. It is consistently one of the most popular items on our website, and yet it shows next to nothing. It’s simply a fixed image of our parking lot, with a little stretch of Rte. 101 in the background.
And yet people watch it. We know that they watch it, because people caught in the spell of the webcam feel compelled to contact us. They want to be closer to the parking lot and learn more about it. They’ll come up with silly questions as a pretext for starting a conversation. “Is the flagpole on your property?” “What kind of tree is that?” Next they’ll feel the need to celebrate the extremely modest action the webcam captures. If someone is caught mowing the lawn or arrives at work at an odd hour, a devotee will send us a comment about it, almost as though they just wish to remind us that they are watching. We’ve even had instances when an article of clothing is accidently left outside, and within an hour someone on the webcam spots it and asks us to go out and get it. And God forbid the webcam should ever malfunction or go out of focus. The devotees will contact us en masse, demanding the return of their idol.
If you need any more evidence of the parking lot’s power, consider also its ability to defend itself. We have often discussed in editorial meetings the possibility of moving the webcam. If so many people are attracted to it, why not move it to a more scenic location, like downtown Peterborough or Keene. Surely the Main Street of some quaint New England village would be more appealing than our parking lot. But somehow it never happens. The plans always stall and slip away. Is this laziness on our part, or is the parking lot forcing us to forget and thereby preserving its connection to the broader world?
I can understand if you are still skeptical. I was as well for a very long time. But I will provide one final piece of evidence that should end any argument: a picture of the face of evil itself! One of our webcam followers noticed this image and sent it to us. It was taken by our second webcam that points at the garden and, because the garden is not haunted, has a much smaller following. Here you can clearly see the demonic presence that lurks between our bumpers. Death walks amongst us! Avert your eyes from the nefarious webcam before the parking lot notices you and comes for your soul!
Justin Shatwell
Justin Shatwell is a longtime contributor to Yankee Magazine whose work explores the unique history, culture, and art that sets New England apart from the rest of the world. His article, The Memory Keeper (March/April 2011 issue), was named a finalist for profile of the year by the City and Regional Magazine Association.