Broken Angels

70

You stand where the waters meet, at the confluence of two great rivers. The winter sun is low in a salt-colored sky. You choose a path, follow the smaller river north, winding among lyrical names and historic places- Bartram's Garden, Point Breeze, Grays Ferry. You float past sullen row houses, past the majesty of the city, past Boathouse Row and the Museum of Art, past the train yards, the East Park Reservoir, and the Strawberry Mansion Bridge. You slide northwest, whispering in your wake ancient incantations-Miquon, Conshohocken, Wissahickon. You leave the city now, and hover among the phantoms of Valley Forge, Phoenixville, Spring City. The Schuylkill snakes into history, the nation's remembrance. Yet still, it is the hidden river.

You soon bid farewell to the river main, entering a haven of silence, a thin, meandering tributary heading southwest. The waterway narrows, widens, narrows again, a twisting tangle of rock and shale and water willow.

Suddenly, from the silted winter mist appears a handful of buildings. A huge trellis spans the canal, once grand, now fallen into neglect and disrepair, its bright colors dour and flaked and dry.

You see an old structure, at one time a proud boathouse. The fragrance of marine paint and varnish still lives in the air. You enter a room. It is a tidy place, a place of deep shadow and sharp angles.

In this room you find a workbench. On the bench is an old, but sharp saw. Next to it, a coil of blue and white rope.

You see a dress laid out on a daybed, waiting. It is a beautiful gown, pale strawberry in color, shirred to the waist. A dress for a princess.

You continue, winding though a maze of narrow canals. You hear the echo of laughter, the lap of waves against small brightly colored boats. You smell the aroma of carnival foods-elephant ears, cotton candy, the glorious tang of sauerbraten on fresh seeded rolls. You hear the lilt of the calliope.

And further on, further still, until all is silent again. Now it is a place of darkness. A place where graves chill the earth.

It is here that Moon will meet you.

He knows you are coming.