Has anybody here actually heard of Axford, New York? Probably not honestly. And even if somebody had they probably couldn’t tell it apart from any other town in the Catskills if they’d never been. But if they had stepped foot in that town, they would know it. The meticulously kept main street, a local business in every storefront. The painstakingly landscaped parks and central plaza. It was almost a glorification of small town America.
Axford always had an aura surrounding it. I could never really put my finger on it but it bordered on elysian. The place seemed to just ooze this sense of relaxation and safety. An isolated paradise that was somehow disconnected from the rest of the world despite a K-Mart being only a short drive away from our house. The town was cradled in a valley, green sloping peaks of the Catskills on three sides and the Esopus River on the other. This only added to the feeling of seclusion we all felt, with the rest of society physically hidden from us by natural beauty.
Of course Axford was not really isolated. It had the highest tech communications network money could buy, a popular commuter railroad station utilized by locals and weekenders alike and of course US Route 28: The lonely two lane road that pierced directly through the town as Axford’s main street. And other than daring to cross the railroad trestles that stretched the Esopus at either end of town, it was the only way in and the only way out.
I’m sorry I get a little carried away when I think about Axford. My girlfriend Kelsey has been prying at me to open up about what I went through during my childhood, what had happened in Axford. What had happened to Axford. I mean she knew my home life had been difficult, that wasn’t exactly a well kept secret, but anytime she’d ask about my childhood friends, memories, my home town… I’d just shut it down. We’ve been together since college at Kutztown University and after six years well… I just don’t know if she’d listen to me or just throw me in a psych ward by the end of it. And I suppose that’s why I’m here, to see if anybody else remembers Axford, New York. To see if what my waking nightmares keep reminding me of actually happened at all.
Sometimes memories pop into my mind through the mention of some kind of trigger despite me still not really knowing exactly what would trigger them in the first place. Others appeared seemingly at random. Last night, a memory I’d long suppressed became all too vivid through what was essentially nothing at all. It was late, I was laying in bed with my girlfriend already fast asleep beside me. I looked around the darkened bedroom, nothing but shadows distinguishing the furniture surrounding me. It was quiet, dead silent. In my adult life I rarely found a time to truly stop and experience such a deafening silence. Only when I was a child, far away from the constant noise pollution of the urbanized world, did I find that level of stillness. But last night, with the snow storm we’d been expecting pounding southeastern Pennsylvania, society truly stood motionless. And that alone, the setting I found myself in through circumstances seemingly out of my control, brought this memory to the forefront of my mind.
My childhood home was one of the smallest in town. It was a run down ranch with faded brown siding and a lawn spotted with dead yellow grass amongst the green. Its blades were just a bit too long compared to the neighbors. It wasn’t much when my parents had bought it in 1984 and never became much more, especially after my father had left, but it was home nonetheless. It felt safe and secure, like the rest of town really. The covers of my bed were a layer of bullet proof armor that would stop anything from hurting me. That was until my young sense of security was shattered by a single sound. A sound that I’d search for many years after to find.
I was only 5 that night, in the fall of 1999. It was only my second week of kindergarten at Axford Public School and I was actually feeling excited for the next morning. It was a Friday, a day I knew would soon be my favorite of the week, and my mom had even arranged for me to play at my classmate Nelson’s house after school. I was laying giddy in bed, the moonlight shining through the window to my left. It left a streak of pale white light on the far wall of the room, highlighting a Rugrats poster hanging by multicolored thumb tacks. I yawned and turned to the side, facing my bedside table with my alarm clock’s digits burning a bright red amongst the darkened space. 9:42. The latest I’d ever stayed up. My bed time was 8:00 sharp but the extra Minute Maid apple juice box and thoughts of going back to my new friends at school the next day kept me wide awake. The numbers on the clock changed over. 9:43. The only thing that worried me was the idea of my mother finding I wasn’t asleep. However almost instantly, my mother was the last thing I was concerned about.
At first it was distant, its origin seemingly across town, on the other side of Mount Kearsonin perhaps or even farther. But it soon grew louder. And with its volume it became more violent in tone. It was a sound impossible to describe. Deep and booming but shriek and piercing. It was something beyond what I’d ever experienced. Unrecognizable as natural or mechanical. I sat up in bed, my 5 year old mind racing with horrific ideas of what the source of the sound was. It amplified further, sounding as if it was right outside my window. I spun around to look out into my backyard but it remained as it always was, empty with the soft sway of the overhanging tree branches in the evening breeze. The world outside seemed to be ignoring the sound, despite its oppressive presence all around. To me it felt like hours passed as I waited for it to end, praying the unholy noise was not some permanent hell I’d somehow found myself stuck in. I had retreated back under my covers, tucking myself in as tight as possible to protect myself against an invisible foe. The source of this sound that I was sure was out to get me. But that foe never came. The sound finally began to fade, drifting further and further back where it came. It reverberated off the hills surrounding Axford before finally, mercifully dissipating completely. Soon, the room had returned to a now much more eerie silence. My eyes darted around my bedroom, still expecting to see a monster jump out at me. Once I’d determined the room was clear of any danger, my body started to relax, if only slightly. I turned over to my side once again, reading the alarm clock. 9:44.
That next morning, a man was reported missing in Bowling Green, Ohio. When interviewed, his wife of 26 years claimed that he got into bed and was asleep before her. His kids had claimed their father went upstairs and said goodnight to them before turning out the light to his bedroom. He was a regional manager at a local Mack Concrete facility on the southside of town so it was not unusual to find him asleep right after dinner during the week as his wife said in her official statement. When asked about his history, his family said that the man had lived in Bowling Green since he was a teenager. He had come from a troubled household and ran away from his home farther east to stay with his relatives there in Bowling Green. That was 35 years ago and the man was now a well respected and proud Bowling Green resident. The Wood County Sheriff’s Department found it impossible to pin down any sort of suspect or even a single piece of evidence despite extensive background searches and utilizing every resource available to them. After 180 days, the case was officially shelved. For all intensive purposes, the man had gone to bed early as he did every weekday and the next morning he had simply, truly disappeared.
Of course I never knew about this man as a child, and frankly only today did I even think to try to find him or any other candidate that would fit the description. But he fit it perfectly. Despite him having seemingly no direct connection to the experience I had as a child, trust me when I say he did.
I’ll probably regret even posting this but if I don’t, I’ll try to find another story I’d feel safe sharing. It’s risky even putting any of this out there. I know what the consequences are if they figure out I’m doing this at all and the last thing I want to do is put myself or especially Kelsey in any danger.
I can’t stress enough that if someone here dares to try to visit Axford (Which if you are, I strongly suggest you turn around and never consider such an idea again), I insist you tread lightly. Despite a lot of its revenue having come from tourists, small towns don’t always take too kindly to strangers poking around. Especially this one. Trust me, I know.