- Genre:history
- Sub-genre:United States / 19th Century
- Language:English
- Pages:84
- Paperback ISBN:9798350956528
Book details
Overview
The first time I visited Fall Brook I felt an
eerie chill pass through me. It was not due to the
cold wind that shook the trees or the snow that
covered the ground. It was something else.
Something I couldn't explain. I had come here to
visit the souls who had left their homeland to
work the coal mines of Tioga County. I had heard
how Fall Brook was once a thriving town. How it
had a railroad, a school, a church, and a
cemetery. How it was the source of a superior coal
that was in high demand for many industries.
Other stories told how the coal ran out, the people
left, and the town was abandoned and forgotten.
I did not expect to experience the ardent emotions
that invaded my being when I came here.
Read moreDescription
Fall Brook Cemetery is located off a state
forest road in Ward Township, Tioga County,
Pennsylvania. Its fallen and broken gravestones
bear witness to the passage of time as no burials
have occurred here for over a century. The
graveyard rests in quiet abandonment with its
secrets buried among the departed. The names of
the lives once lived are now etched in moss
covered stone. Visitors who venture here may feel
the weight of history.
Fall Brook Cemetery, now a silent sentinel,
cradles the memories of those who danced at
harvest festivals, who whispered secrets under
moonlit skies, and who weathered many storms.
Their stories are like the gnarled roots of apple
trees intertwined with the very soil that cradles
them.
And so, in my humble endeavor to honor
these souls, I compile their names as a litany of
67
remembrance. I pen their stories, not as mere
dates and inscriptions, but as echoes of love and
loss. For they are more than names etched in
granite; they are the heartbeat of the community
that once thrived here.
In this abandoned town, where the wind
rustles
through forgotten doorways and
wildflowers reclaim the streets, I offer my tribute.
With each keystroke, I resurrect their voices,
weaving them into the fabric of my book. Their
legacy, obscured by time, deserves recognition—
a whispered promise that they shall not fade into
oblivion.
And so, dear reader, as you scan the pages
of my work, know that it is not just ink on paper.
It's a bridge across centuries, a bridge that spans
the gap between the living and the departed. For
in honoring their memory, we honor our shared
humanity—a beautiful tapestry that transcends
the boundaries of time and place.
"Here lies our past," the gravestones
murmur. "Remember us:"
Fall Brook Cemetery
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