GUILT can be a powerful thing. Over the years, these 鈥渞ocks鈥 鈥 actually chunks of ancient petrified trees 鈥 have proved irresistible to many light-fingered visitors to the Petrified Forest National Park in Arizona. Eventually, often decades later, conscience prompts some to return their 鈥渟ouvenirs鈥 anonymously, along with a little note of apology.
It鈥檚 easy to see the temptation. These chunks of organic matter gain a rich, colourful beauty as minerals such as quartz, cobalt, iron and copper fill the pores of the original material over hundreds of millions of years.
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So many pieces have been returned that park rangers have created a conscience pile to store them, as well as displaying some of the 1200-plus letters.
鈥淭he rocks were very appealing,鈥 writes one visitor, 鈥渁nd in a moment of exuberance we took the rock with us as a memento of our trip.鈥
鈥淚鈥檓 returning this rock that belongs in the forest,鈥 writes another. 鈥淢y conscience has bothered me ever since I brought it home.鈥
But it鈥檚 not only guilt that prompts a change of heart. These rocks hold a secret: a curse said to plague anyone who steals them. From car troubles and cat attacks to financial losses and even a plane crash, all have been attributed to the prophecy of the rocks. 鈥淭he final straw was when I stepped thru the ceiling of our new house,鈥 one letter reads.
Photographer Ryan Thompson, who stumbled upon the conscience pile during a trip in 2012, was interested by the 鈥渃ombination of humour and heartbreak in the letters鈥.
鈥淚 was immediately curious about the attribution of power to an inert mineral,鈥 he says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not difficult to imagine what possesses visitors to pick up a small souvenir, but it鈥檚 a lot more interesting thinking about the reasons for their return.鈥
And Thompson admits yearning for them too. 鈥淲hen I arrived home after my second trip,鈥 he says, 鈥淚 purchased a few pieces of petrified wood on eBay in an attempt to satisfy the desire.鈥
This article appeared in print under the headline 鈥淧etrified with guilt鈥



