William Royden

It sounded like she was standing only about 10 feet away from the microphone.

This went on for almost 60 seconds.

I was baffled.

I'd heard nothing as I was recording and there had certainly been no one around us.

When the camera panned, the voice was heard more faintly, suggesting the singer was standing very close to Cording and was briefly abandoned by the unidirectional microphone.

On the video screen, I could see Cording turn his head slightly in the middle of the song when there was an unusually long pause between words.

He didn't seem surprised as he watched the tape.

He told me to start recording again from that point, and we moved on.

I wanted to play the tape again and again to figure out just what had happened, but it was obvious that recording had not come here to entertain my questions.

In Robin's song, there is a small muddy creek called Rachel's Arm that flows out of the Beloit River.

Sometime around eleven I followed a courting along its bank.

The drizzle had stopped completely, and the sky above us was thick with clouds but dry.

He stopped near the creek's end point and turned to me.

He appeared to be appraising me somehow, considering how to proceed with me.

Then he began to speak.

I suppose he suddenly felt the need to start to slowly explain things, but he gave me no background about himself or his task.

Instead, he told me a frightening story, one that I was already somewhat familiar with, but I didn't reveal this to him.

He said that about 15 years ago, a couple of kids had been playing beside this creek when one of them noticed a hand sticking out of the water.

When they pulled on it, a mannequin came out streaked with mud.

It was dressed clumsily in a suit, and its face was very carefully painted to look like someone specific right down to the brown eyes.