Texas Hill-Country Gothic

  • Tiny family graveyards of half a dozen headstones, all but forgotten as they are reclaimed by cedar and oak.
  • Rusted barbed wire, faded flags, slowly decaying fence-posts. The bones of cattle, half hidden by waving grasses, bleached by the sun. At least, you hope they’re cattle.
  • Tiny ghost towns less than ten miles from sprawling cities, yet farther away than the moon.
  • In Spring bluebonnets carpet the hillsides; you sit amongst them to have your picture taken, but faintly you hear whispers. The sun is warm, the breeze is gentle, you begin to feel sleepy…
  • Remember the Alamo. Remember the Alamo. None of us can forget the Alamo. None of us can forget the Alamo, no matter how hard we try.
  • Ghost lights flicker at the top of Enchanted Rock, Tonkawa warriors trying to find their way home.
  • The Heart of Texas isn’t just a figure of speech. it exists, beating, in the hills. It exists, and it can be killed.
  • Limestone caverns dripping with moisture, stretching below the earth, emitting cool air like the hissing breath of a great beast. It smells like sulfur.
  • The stars at night are big and bright. Much too big, much too bright.
  • A baptismal cut from the rock of the creek bed, once used by the congregation of a nearby church, now little more than crumbling stone. The creek is long dry. When you climb down the shallow steps and stand in the oblong depression, the birdsong turns to voices, hymns, praise to god, but not the god of Abraham. When you wake several hours later, there is something else behind your eyes. You are born again.
  • No one would want to Keep Austin Weird if they knew how terribly, mind-bogglingly, horrifyingly weird it really is (it probably has something to do with the bats).

Having lived in the hill country.. some of these are so very legit. So verrry legit.