If you follow Bear Creek below the train viaduct and cross the river at Cutter’s bridge, you’re bound to see her, the Rå of Bear Creek. She came up here in ships with the Swedes about 80 years ago. She’ll whisper in the wind. She belongs to the forest– its guardian, and you’ll see her if you stray too far into the pines, if you are carefree or careless, if you are handsome and strong and follow Bear Creek below the viaduct. You are.
Joy dances in the water, the brook and you waltz, you tumble, and the earth pirouettes on an axis you cannot fathom. All the wilderness of joy is hidden throughout the forest, a trail carved out of your laughter and a forest floor bathed in the cool of your smile. Meanwhile starving eyes watch your waltz over Cutter’s bridge. Seconds from the snare, you dance for the last time.
Do not go where she leads you, but since you are tangled in her web, you are bound to her will. Do not go where she leads you, though you will have no more choices, bewitched by her. Do not go where she leads you; she will plunge into the night and you will, without warning, step into the dark with her. The Rå, she’ll eat your soul. She will eat every piece of your sanity. So, do not go where she leads you; but you will… happily… or so you think.
The Rå, she’ll eat your soul, where she leads you. Bewitched by her. Bathed in the wilderness of Bear Creek. A forest floor, the snare– a fathom deep–, and wind will eat your sanity. Do not go. Tangled in no more laughter. Tangled in her. A trail carved into the night. Do not go. Do not go. You are too far. She leads you.
D’you ever get so hungry and so cold but nothing fills you or set your bones aflame? D’you ever taste something so sweet that every grain of sugar turns bitter in your mouth? Or, or, or something so painful across your belly that you’re hollowed out from jaw to gut? You ever want Death to embrace you in her grip and hold you, hold– hold you until you’ve drowned in only blackness but you know even Death’s hold cannot release you from the Rå’s grip?