Hey everyone, Dave here. Got another interdimensional
swap for you guys. This week we're going to be
featuring an episode from the Ghost Story guys.
Sarge and I had the pleasure of being a guest
on their show in a future episode coming out
of theirs. I believe it's actually coming out
this week. I honestly don't remember. I think
it's the 12th. It was a lot of fun. We had some
good conversations, joked a lot, shit -talked
a bunch. But it was really fun. They're really
cool guys. So definitely give this episode a
listen and then give them a follow so that way
you can be prepared for when Our interview with
them comes out on their feed. I'm really bad
at these intro things, so I'm just going to wrap
it up. But here you go. Here's the episode of
The Ghost Story, guys. Be aware. Be haunted,
Delaware. Enjoy. and close your eyes. It's half
past midnight, and you're listening to The Ghost
Story Guys. Welcome to The Ghost Story Guys.
I am the king of hay fever, Brennan Storr. And
I am a man who fears no pollen. I am Paul Bestall.
And this is the show where we talk about spooks,
specters, and all the other things watching us
from the shadows beyond the campfire. Some conversations
only make sense after the sun has set, and this
is most definitely one. Thanks for tuning in.
This is episode number 213, and we are sneezily
coming to you from that mountain cabin you dream
about but can never quite reach. Paul, my friend,
it's allergy season. There's just no two ways
about it. I even forgot the last bit of the intro
there because I have just sneezed myself stupid.
The only thing I get is a tickly throat. It sucks,
is the short version. I won't belabor it, but
if I sound all stuffed up, it's not because I
am choked with emotion. I mean, you know, any
more than usual. It is because I am at active
war with the trees in my neighborhood. Perhaps
you need to try that honey therapy. Is that the
one you sent me the video of, you sick bastard?
Folks, look, we're going to get to the ghost
stories in a second, but nothing could be more
frightening than the honey massage video Paul
sent me. I get a note saying, do not open this
in a public place. I'm like, what the fuck is
he? Oh, that's what it is. And you know what?
I'll put a link in the show notes so you can
all suffer with me. Hey, don't blame me. Blame
my brother. He was the one that found it and
sent it to me. Okay. Well, that I believe. I
made up for it. I sent you the new Predator trailer.
This is true. This is true. Yeah. Entirely different
kind of Predator. I'm just happy on life after
surviving a visit to two of Britain's spookiest
locations last week. Yes, you went on your adventure
and you were saying that you had something to
report? We saw a UFO. Holy shit. Tell me more.
So it was Thursday evening and we got this beautiful
guest house in the small sort of offshot of Berwick,
which is called Spittle. So it's literally like
a mile away. And we were on a seafront guest
house. We got a beautiful room, big windows looking.
We were literally about, I don't know, 100 yards
from the beach. from where we were. Big windows,
two reclining chairs, which I didn't realise
was a reclining chair until I thought I broke
it. And I went, ah! And then the bottom flew
up and I went, ah! So it's supposed to do this.
So we were just sat there just watching the sea
and I downloaded a ship tracker because we're
sad like that. And we're like, oh, look at that
ship. That's from Liberia. Oh, look, that's come
from Portugal. Where's it going? Oh, it's going
to Glasgow. Brilliant. And so while we were doing
that, we were taking it in and just thinking,
oh, this is marvellous. We could hear the sea.
Beautiful. Didn't do anything else for a couple
of hours. And we were pointing out and I said,
oh, look, the stars are there and whatever. And
there was one particular star we were looking
at it. Oh, yeah, that's beautiful. And then all
of a sudden, this bright white ball of light
just appeared directly underneath it. And so
at first I thought, is it a very bright star?
And the cloud has gone. But it was travelling
under the star. You could see it moving. So I
said, right, quick, turn the light off. So Julie
got up, ran to turn the light off and grabbed
the phones because we'd left them on the bed.
And by the time she'd come back, it just went
boop and disappeared, vanished. As soon as it
knew we were talking, it was almost like we started
going, oh my God, look at that, look at that.
And as soon as we said that, it just disappeared.
It was there for, I don't know, eight, nine seconds.
Son of a bitch. It wasn't a satellite. It wasn't
a plane, because I've got all these trackers
on my phone these days. You've got to rule them
out. No, that's fair. It wasn't the moon. It
wasn't a star. Stars don't move. It wasn't a
comet. It was too slow for a comet or a meteor
or a shooting star. And it was a great big, quite
noticeable white ball of light. It wasn't flashing
or anything. It just looked like a big, bright,
white ball of light. And it went. I'll be damned.
Well, that is cool as hell. Yeah. So, you know,
I didn't see any ghosts anywhere else. Or anything
at Chillingham and Lindisfarne? Because we took
an impromptu visit to Lindisfarne the following
day. Okay. I don't know the area. So Lindisfarne
is an island off the coast of the northeast of
England. You basically can only get there twice
a day when the tide goes out because the road
to Lindisfarne is under the North Sea. Oh, okay.
So we drove over first thing in the morning about
quarter past nine because Julie lived on Lindisfarne
for a bit. Oh, cool. where she met Dan Aykroyd,
strangely enough, 25 years ago, asking for extra
honey in the restaurant she worked at, and also
the cast of Cold Feet, if you're aware of that
programme. Lots of middle -aged British people
will know what I'm talking about, and some may
start crying at the merry mention of that romantic
comedy drama, shall we say. So, yeah, we went
there, and obviously Lindisfarne is essentially...
the starting point in Britain of the Viking Age
because the Vikings turned up, slaughtered all
the monks, stole all the gold from the monastery
and ransacked and pillaged the area. So on the
island, there's a castle and the remains of the
priory and statues to the saint there. And it's
like a little art. It's become quite an artistic
hotspot. So people have moved there to become
professional artists. There's distilleries there.
They make their own mead, their own gin, their
own rum. It was marvellous. Lovely. Sounds cool
as hell. And then we thought that would set us
up. And then we went to the most haunted castle
in England, which was Chillingham. And was it
the most haunted castle? It's exactly how I expected
a haunted castle to be. It's a remarkable story
because the guy that owns it now, Sir Humphrey
Wakefield, well, him and his wife. Chillingham
had been abandoned for 50 years. So a family
owned it until 1930. And one day they just got
up and went, nah, we can't afford to live here
anymore. Lock the door, fucked off. Oh. And it
was left. And so it basically began to collapse.
And he turned up in 1980 and he completely brought
it all back, rebuilt the whole thing, floors,
windows. He went out, auction houses, getting
back old. tapestries and trying to recreate how
the rooms would have looked 400, 500 years ago.
It's a remarkable level of restoration when you
look at what he's achieved in 45 years. It's
incredible. I'm very glad I've knocked it off
my bucket list, both places. No kidding. Well,
sadly, on this episode, we're not talking about
Chillingham Castle, although I kind of wish we
were. On this episode, we are telling stories
from the American state of Delaware, the Diamond
State. This is a number of items that Luke found,
plus a few things that I've managed to locate
through old newspapers. And actually, I'm quite
happy we're in between stories. We're going to
be sharing segments from a newspaper feature
on 13 hauntings around Delaware. So we have six
stories. And after each story, we will have two
of these little blurbs that the Wilmington News
Journal put together in 2006. So if you're not
familiar with Delaware, which I have to admit,
I was not. I have been to 36 of the US states.
I did not even know where Delaware was. I know.
Terrible stuff. One of my many secret shames.
I'd like to blame the allergy medicine, but I
haven't taken it, so I don't fall asleep on the
call like I have in past when I've had allergy
attacks. It could be worse. I was once involved
as a bystander and referee in an argument between
two friends over the fact that Australia wasn't
in Europe. I don't even know what to do with
that. And the reason for it was, well, they speak
English, so it must be in Europe. And I was like,
what? What? Even I'm annoyed by that point. Sometimes
people will say something so staggeringly stupid
that you just expect reality to crumple in on
itself like a used up paper cup. Like you just
think that, okay, that person should, if there
is a God, he will be sucked screaming into the
void right now. Nope, nothing. Indeed. We're
alone. Indeed. I felt a bit like Captain Britain
when Alan Moore wrote it. I have to say, I felt
like my atoms were being scattered across the
universe. Well... Before we scatter our atoms
across the great state of Delaware, we have to
thank our patrons. This one's for the patrons.
Patrons, we could not do what we do without you.
So thank you. Thank you. Thank you. For real,
guys. Every single person who downloads the Ghost
Story, guys, you help make us who we are. But
people who support the show financially are the
true MVPs. Without you guys, this great machine
would not keep going. And so we are eternally
grateful. to each and every one of you. And while
we'd like to thank all of our subscribers, we
would especially like to thank our latest ones.
They are Carrie and Paul R. Again, guys, thank
you so, so much from the bottom of our terrible
hearts. We deeply, deeply appreciate it. And
if you would like to have your name read out
here, become one. of the bright shining stars
in the ghost story guys sky become a friend of
the cabin by clicking the link in the show notes
or heading to patreon .com slash ghost story
guys that's patreon .com slash ghost story guys
or by clicking the link in the show notes all
right paul i'm gonna go blow my nose and when
i come back be ready to be aware be delaware
Pop -Pop's House Growing up being taught there
were no such thing as ghosts, Pop -Pop's House
proved us all wrong. I was 17 when we moved into
Pop -Pop's House. He died about three years prior.
I loved him and missed him dearly. I cried for
years over him. It made it harder to deal with
his death looking over all his belongings and
knowing he had lived there for over 50 years.
My sister was 12 and my brother was 10. and we
all had our own rooms there. My sister chose
my dad's old bedroom, which she was excited about
because we loved our dad. She slept in there
for about three months, and then suddenly she
was downstairs sleeping on the couch. I asked
her why she didn't sleep in daddy's room anymore.
She flat out told me that she was going up the
stairs and heard a man and woman laughing in
her room. We made fun of her and called her crazy.
A few months later, I was in my room at the top
of the stairs. I was putting my clothes away
and I heard a male voice say, What are you doing?
Now my brother, being a jokester, and my dad
never coming upstairs, I had my back to the door
and told my brother to get out of my room. When
I turned around, it was dark and no one was there.
I was petrified. I threw my clothes on the floor,
locked the door and went to bed, and I didn't
move all night. I told my brother a few months
later, and of course, I was labelled nuts like
my sister, but my brother eventually got his
payback. A little while later, my brother and
his friend were playing football in the side
yard. They were at least 30 feet from each other
when they heard a woman say, What are you doing?
They both came inside and were quite terrified.
They told me what happened and finally acknowledged
what my sister and I had experienced was real.
It took us a long time, but I told my dad what
had been happening. He never denied seeing or
hearing things there. The most outstanding thing
was that he saw a ghostly white horse run through
the backyard when he was a boy. He told his parents
about this and they told him he was sick and
that he needed to go to bed. I was so glad he
understood us and didn't tease or make fun of
us. After my dad passed away, my sister told
me that the house shook violently and they heard
the sound of a train coming through. My great
-grandparents ran a train station that was right
in front of the house in the late 1800s. The
tracks were gone when my dad was a boy, but my
sister said she smelt coal a lot outside. When
my dad died, my mother turned off all the utility
in the house, such as the phone. My dad had his
own phone because of the dial -up internet. I
stood outside the window where he worked on the
computer. The phone was turned off. Then I heard
the phone ringing. I went back in and checked
for a dial tone, but there was no sound at all.
I thought maybe I'd just heard the neighbour's
phone. Months later, both my mum and my sister
had heard the same noise. We call it the ghost
phone. My mum had to sell the house back in 2010.
It had been built by our family over 100 years
ago, and my siblings and I were devastated. The
new owners burnt it down, but in my mind it's
still there, a childhood getaway. Jumping off
the porch and exploring the yard. And no one
can ever burn that down. I still have a key on
my key ring to the back door of that house. And
I call it the key to a ghost house. Well, I hope
they burnt it down by accident. That seems a
bit severe. Just reduce it to ashes like a Star
Wars villain. Maybe they were trying to burn
the ghosts out. Who knows? They do things differently
in Delaware. It's all that sea air, I think.
Until today, I didn't even know it was on the
water. If it was squeezed anymore, it'd be Atlantis.
It's a very small state. Not that size is everything,
as I keep contending. They should call it the
Squisham State. You know, something tells me
that the ego of a state that calls itself either
the first state or the diamond state is not going
to allow for the Squisham State. I was reminded
of something today that says nothing to what
we're talking about, but I was reminded of something
today. I've been going to a new coffee shop.
It's a little bit closer to my house. And I got
talking today when I placed my order, the barista
asked about my tattoos. And it occurred to me,
I don't think much about them, right? They're
just kind of there. I was reminded, I used to
work in a building that had a lot of security.
It was a very secure building. You couldn't get
in without a pass. You couldn't. go anywhere.
The past didn't let you go. And we had a cafeteria.
So every day when I was working there, I would
go to this cafeteria and either just have a coffee
or shoot the shit with some of the other people
from where I was working. And there was a young
woman who worked there and she was very friendly.
We got along very well. But I noticed one day
she was wearing a short sleeve shirt. She had
a tattoo on her forearm and it was the emblem
from the cover of Leonard Cohen's Uh, it's the
album after I'm your man. But anyways, um, it's
got, it's like a distinctive, I think it's like
a heart with two birds on either side of it,
but it was just that. And I commented on it.
So that's very, I said, that's, that's Leonard
Cohen, right? She goes, oh shit. Yeah. You know,
she was surprised that I recognized it. So we
talked about that for a minute about how, how
much we both enjoyed that album. And she said,
oh, thank, uh, I think it was like, well, thanks,
Brendan. She like was kind of pointed to my name
tag. And I said, oh yeah, no problem. And I realized
she didn't have a name tag. And I said, I don't
know your name. And she goes, oh, I can't tell
you. It's a secret. And I said, okay. I said,
that's fine. That's fine. But I said, from now
on, I'm going to call you Stanislaus. And she
stopped and she goes, Stanislaus was my grandfather's
name. How'd you know that? Well, I guess that's
the end of these conversations. Yeah. Just, and
that was, that was it. That was the last time
we ever had a chat. I think whatever it was,
it just, I, with my, my patented Brennan store
method, I creeped her out just enough. to end
any future conversations. You must have been
channeling the spirit of Sylvia Brown. No, because
I was right about that. Oh, that's very harsh.
One might say not harsh enough. One might say
that anything short of a Macho Man Randy Savage
style elbow drop from a banyan tree might not
be enough for the ghost of Sylvia Brown. Yes,
that was true. When someone mentioned it on the...
Facebook page, I wrote a message and then I deleted
it because I realized it was probably the most
vitriolic rant I'd ever committed on our group's
page. And I thought, no, no, I'm not going to
do that. So I turned it down a touch and just
called her a bastard. Which again, like, I don't
know if there's any amount of vitriol that would
have been too much. Again, she's one of the few
kind of big name psychics I've seen live. I had
the misfortune, I guess, of seeing a live performance
in Victoria. It was one of the most shameful
things I've ever seen. Just this woman who clearly
did not give a fuck, completely dismissing these
tearful, tearful women. It was horrifying. And
I think one of the folks in the Facebook group
pointed out this one very famous case where she
said a young lady was... past and she was in
fact being held captive. And then she did the
opposite for a case that's very well known to
Victorians, the disappearance of Michael Dunahee.
And she said, oh, you know, he's out there somewhere.
And the podcast Island Crime just did an update
on the Michael Dunahee case. And it seems pretty
clear he was, I don't like to say this about
a kid, but it seems pretty clear he was no longer
with us within a couple of days of that disappearance,
maybe even the day of. the disappearance. And
so she, again, just got everything wrong in a
way that was almost scientifically calculated
to cause as much hurt as possible. I don't think
she did it because I don't think she's smart
enough to scientifically calculate fucking anything,
but she just had the opposite of Midas. She had
the black touch. Well, to be fair, to be consistently
wrong is a skill in itself. This is true. Yep,
this is true. Maybe that was a psychic power.
He just took the opposite of what she said and
it was right. This is like the guy I know who
keeps dreaming about almost the right lottery
numbers. He never gets the right ones, but he
always dreams very, very close to the right ones.
And I assume this is like generational punishment
for something his grandfather did. Yes. Yes.
Well, I must admit, I must have struck a chord
with you because you still got your T -shirt
that you're wearing from the gig. My Sylvia Brown
T -shirt? Yeah. Sylvia is my queen. Yeah. Yeah.
God help us. All right. We're going to leave
behind the ghost of Sylvia Brown, hopefully forever.
And we're going to share two of these haunted
locations from around Delaware again. This comes
from the October 11th, 2006 edition of the Wilmington
News Journal. I'm going to read number one and
Paul is going to read haunt number two. Haunt
one, Fort Delaware. It's time for a quick lesson
for those of you not lucky enough to take a field
trip to Fort Delaware in elementary school. Fort
Delaware sits on Pea Patch Island, just off Delaware
City. It was built in 1848, and though it was
never attacked, served as a military fort until
1943 when it was decommissioned. At one point,
there were over 16 ,000 people and prisoners
on the tiny island. There aren't any people left
living in Fort Delaware, just the ghosts. One
of those lost souls is a woman. We don't know
her name, but she is one of the civilians who
lived in the fort and acted as a cook for one
of the officers. George Contant, the historical
manager of Fort Delaware, tells the tale. A group
of historical interpreters were working in the
kitchen one day about 15 years ago, reenacting
a day in the life of a kitchen worker at the
fort. The women were working at the stove when
they saw someone they didn't recognize dressed
in period clothes. She walked to the stove, looked
in some pots and at the arrangements on the table,
smiled at the interpreters, turned around, and
walked straight through the wall next to the
pantry. Since that incident, ghost hunters have
measured that corner as a cold spot. A portal
to another dimension. That's obviously not in
the article. I'm just being an asshole. About
six years ago, a camera crew went to the fort
to film a segment to run with an Addams Family
marathon. Oh, Jesus. It was a different time.
One cameraman stayed in the kitchen to shoot
some extra footage while the rest of the group
moved on. He went into the pantry and heard a
woman's voice telling him to get out. He did,
and when he came back a few years later to film
another segment, he wouldn't go into the pantry.
Interpreters have also had things move around
on them. One woman was sewing and dropped her
needle, but since she was rushing for the last
boat out, she decided to just look for it in
the morning. She was a first person back the
next day, and when she went into the room where
she was sewing, a piece of fabric was sitting
on her table, her threaded needle in it. Other
interpreters reported spoons being moved in the
kitchen, and once someone moved a wooden spoon
off the hot stove before it caught fire. Other
visitors report seeing General Archer, a prisoner
captured at Gettysburg, who had plans to take
over the fort. After those plans were foiled,
he was thrown into a powder magazine for the
summer. A powder magazine is completely dark,
with only thin slits on the brick walls to let
air in. He was released, but after he died, his
spirit came back to haunt the magazine. Daniel
Citron, the lead historical interpreter at Fort
Delaware, said he and two other guys were putting
things away for the season when they heard a
little girl giggling. They were the only people
on the island. There weren't any children. And
I gotta say, man, if I'm this General Archer
guy, and I've been imprisoned in a fucking powder
magazine, the last thing I'm gonna do when I
die is go back there. Unless he was autistic
and he's like, no, no, I like the quiet, which
in that case I get. I love the smell of powder.
That's it. I find it calming. I've done some
weird shit. You know, if I find a nice clean
bathroom with a nice, like a nice tile floor,
sometimes you just want to lie on it in the dark.
I get it. I get it. Don't give me that look.
It's been a long time since I've laid on a bathroom
floor. Right about now, RFK Jr's picked up the
bat phone. He's like, find him. Find him. He
can't find me. No, it's not you he's looking
for. You're not the one lying on the floor of
bathrooms because he finds it comforting. No,
I'm on the ceiling watching him. All right, read
number two, you beautiful bald bastard. Haunt
2, The Headless Horseman of Welsh Tract Road.
Next time you're getting some chicken and garlic
potatoes at the Boston Market on Route 896 in
Newark, keep your eyes peeled. You're in the
Headless Horseman of Welsh Tract Road's territory.
During the Battle of Coochers Bridge during the
Revolutionary War, part of the battle took place
where the Boston Market stands now, all the way
down Welch Track Road to the church. A 16 -year
-old volunteer named Charlie Miller was riding
through the cemetery during the battle. Just
as he passed the church, a cannonball took off
his head, kept going and knocked a hole in the
wall of the church. Charlie was a brave volunteer
and continued to soldier on as the headless horseman.
The night before the Battle of Chadds Ford, snipers
lined up to shoot George Washington. Those snipers
never got a shot off, and the next morning were
found headless. Charlie was also responsible
for the 38 headless soldiers found at Valley
Forge. He still rides around the area where he
lost his head, and if you go to the church, you
can see where the cannonball that took Charlie's
head went through it. That sounds delightful,
doesn't it? Paul? I nearly died when you said
Cooch's Bridge. My head snapped back so fast,
my headphones pulled out of my ear. It was fumbling
for them while laughing, while wheezing because
of you. I literally nearly died. Have you never
investigated Cooch's Bridge? No, it's a myth.
It's a myth. See, that's the thing about transatlantic
colloquialism. Sometimes they have no relevance
in the United Kingdom. And that's one of them,
even though I know exactly what it refers to.
I remember when I was at, just before we go to
the next story, when I was in New Orleans the
first time and I did the fan boat tour, the dude
who picked me up was born and bred Louisiana.
And I was explaining to him that I had couch
surfed. Louisiana, but my Canadian accent was
much more pronounced then. And so he just kept
looking at me going, cooch surfing? Cooch surfing?
Cooch surfing? No. Couch. Oh. Oh. Oh, that doesn't
sound like nearly as much fun. All right. All
right. Calm down. Yeah, that's a bit strange.
I was watching a documentary the other day about
the time there were three serial killers running
around Louisiana at the same time. Only three?
That seems low for Louisiana. Strange that they
were all active at the same time, and they all
had a different modus operandi and a different
victim. Really? What era was this? 80s, 90s,
noughties. No shit. Okay. You got Derek Todd
Lee, who attacked women in their own homes and
murdered them. You had Ronald, was it Ronald
Dominique? Which is just really strange. There's
a lot of that story that doesn't make sense.
He wasn't the most attractive man to look at,
shall we say. And he was gay. And obviously he
found it hard to meet men. And this is where
the story doesn't make sense to me. Right. But
I'm going to tell you what he told the cops and
they've just bought it for some reason. Right.
Because most of the people he killed were gay,
other gay men. Right. And so he allegedly enticed
them to coming back with him. He'd pick them
up through an advert, which would basically,
basically like a swingers advert saying, oh,
my wife is scared of men. And so she wants me
to go out to find men for her to have sex with.
And so he would bring them back to his trailer.
And then he would say to them, oh, well, I've
got to tie you to this chair so my wife can have
sex with you. Which straight away I'm thinking,
well, hang on, if they're gay men, This is going
to take a lot longer than I think anybody thinks
here, buddy. And so and then he would strangle
them from behind, apparently. And only him and
one other person claimed that this is the reason
they ended up there. However, the guy that escaped
and said, no, I'm not doing this. And he went,
oh, OK, no problem. Took him back. He was straight,
but everybody else he killed was gay. So why
would a gay man be interested in going back to
somebody's house to have sex with their wife?
This is all very reminiscent. This goes right
back to the whole pop pop thing, which always
makes me think of Arrested Development. This
reminds me of the gag about the straight bait
videos from season four, where they, you know,
she's like, oh, you can have sex with me, but
you have to have sex with my husband first or
whatever, you know. So, yeah. And then the other
guy, I can't remember, Sean Gillis. And he targeted
Ladies of the Night. Oh, OK. And he was just
an idiot. But it was him, ironically, that alerted
the authorities to the fact that there was somebody
else killing people because he said, oh yeah,
one night I was trolling the streets and I got
somebody and we were in a car park and then I
saw another guy and we locked eyes and I knew
straight away, he's the other serial killer you're
after. Big black guy. He's the one you should
be really looking for because he's worse than
I am. And he was right. It was. He basically
fingered Derek Todd Lee. Okay. But yeah, so they
were all at it at the same time. They're all
different types of men. One was a gay man. One
was a white guy killing working girls. And the
other guy was just a break and enter and attack
guy. So they were all very different. Very strange.
And they were all at it at the same time. Louisiana,
man. What are they putting in that catfish, man?
Last piece of advice before we go to the next
story, folks. Never let anyone tie you up unless
you know and trust them. Do not let someone tie
you up on a first date. That's some free advice
from me and Paul. We're not going to tell you
why we know this. Well, if only you'd told me
that 25 years ago. I'm here now. We're here for
the next young Paul to stop him from ending up
a podcaster. 13 Curves In Sussex County, Delaware,
there is a road. 13 Curves This is near the Broadkill
River in Slaughter Beach. Yeah, I know, great
names, right? They were named that for a reason.
Yeah, I doubt that. Rumor has it the road has
13 curves because it goes around Indian burial
grounds and is set to be haunted. These are 90
degree curves. People around here tend to stay
off it after dark. Anyway, on the home from Philly
on the 13th of September, 2017, my daughter and
her friend wanted to go down the road on the
way home. They thought it would be fun. 13 curves
on the 13th. Of course, I said okay. It was around
7 .38pm when we arrived. That's when it all started.
I've been down that road before, so I know how
to get to it. It took me five to ten minutes
to find it. I thought, that's odd. When we found
it, it got ice cold to the point I had to put
the heat on. Okay, no big deal. Coming up to
the first curve, I looked in the mirror and thought,
where did that car come from? There hasn't been
a driveway or street for about three quarters
of a mile, but he's going so fast. I looked back
at the road. then back at the mirror, and the
distance between us was cut in half. This person
is going to crash, I said to my daughter. Again,
I looked back at the road, back to my mirror,
and the headlights were at my bumper. How fast
does this guy want me to go? Again, I looked
at the road, back in the mirror. Where did he
go? If he turned off, surely we would have seen
headlights somewhere. It was pitch black. No
streetlights anywhere on this road. On the right
were cornfields. On the left, trees and a salt
marsh. Crap, he crashed. We turned around with
nothing to show from where he went. Okay, time
to go. Just then, three mists traveled in opposite
directions in front of the car. Two right, one
left. Okay, time to get out of here. But I couldn't
see out of the windshield. It wouldn't clear
with the wipers and fluid. The more I used the
wipers, the worse it got. Okay. Now we were freaking
out. We finally got out of that, and it took
us 15 minutes to get out of the area. But no
matter which way we went, we ended up back at
13 curves. Now mind you, I don't ever get lost.
So my daughter pulled out her GPS. It kept taking
us back to 13 curves. I finally found an area
I knew and started driving back to the highway,
or so I thought. Guess where we ended up? Yep,
13 curves. Once again, back to the GPS. We got
on the road out to the highway, and it said we're
going back to 13 Curves, but I just had a feeling
that if we kept going straight, yes, we were
back on the highway. Back on the highway, my
daughter's friend asked, did you see those people?
And my daughter finished with saying, standing
on the rock watching us go by, yes. They were
both freaked out. I didn't see anyone. That was
my second and last trip down that road. The whole
ordeal took about 30 minutes for something that
should have taken five. Now I know and understand
why people stay off it at night. All right, guys,
I'm going to tell you right now, I think that's
bullshit. It's obviously bullshit. I had a hard
time even finishing it, but I included it because
I am so interested in this particular trope of,
and it seems to be a very American trope. Now
it could be, Paul, you would know better than
I would, but. For example, I just finished, today
I'm putting the last touches on volume five,
the audio book for these haunted times for Ruth.
And there are so many stories in there of these
haunted roads where a car is said to come up
right behind you and then disappear out of nowhere.
And like she mentions, Rainbow Road, I'm familiar
with one from New York State called Buckout Road.
there's so many and i know there's two but there
are many many many stories like this and they
all follow the same pattern and i can't figure
out if it's just lazy american myth making uh
because obviously like 13 curves this is probably
something people believe is real and there may
even be a road which has some curves probably
not fucking 13 um but i i just i'm i think it's
really interesting that this is a motif that
keeps coming up in american folklore Yeah, we
don't have many. I can think of probably one
or two, if that, of ghost cars that chase people
and then vanish. Yeah. Yeah, it's such a... Even
going... Like, I just saw today that they're
remaking Urban Legend. Thank God. I will fight
you. I like that movie. I don't remember much
about it, to be honest. I mean, I think Jared
Leto dies, so, you know, it's not all bad news.
Right, I'm in. But even that, it's got the same
idea, right? The idea that you're driving towards
someone, And their headlights, like you flash
your brights or something, and then they run
you off the road. And it's all this, again, very
car -centric kind of homicidal maniac shit, which
again, maybe because America just has so much
more car culture. than anywhere else because
obviously in canada you know we drive great distances
too but i feel like it's the car is not as much
a part of our national identity even though it
is you know just as indispensable here by and
large because we don't have aside from a couple
major cities we don't have great transit and
everything is so far apart um but it just yeah
i i'm always interested when you see stuff like
this because you always think well maybe somewhere
back there there is a kernel of truth yeah i
think there's clearly some cultural touch point
there for it because like you say i think A lot,
especially post -war American teen culture is
all car -based for a lot of it. There's lots
of people souping their cars up and driving and
racing and songs written about it, you know,
Paradise by a Dashboard Light and other such
classic songs of the ilk of that nature. So it's
ingrained, I think, especially in that sort of
post -war generation's DNA, I would imagine.
And I would imagine it's part of that. It'd be
interesting to see when the first ones appear.
Yeah. Yeah. If anyone out there knows, if we
have any sort of sociologists or folklorists
in the crowd, let us know. Be very curious to
know when this stuff kind of enters, first enters
the sort of the popular consciousness. Again,
I just think it's really funny how lazy everyone
is because it's always, it's either cultists
or demon cars or both if you're feeling really
sassy, but it's always in the woods. It always
involves people in robes, usually again, Satanists
and phantom cars for some reason or another.
It is. I heard one of those exact stories about
somewhere on an episode of Monsters Among Us
several years ago. And that was one of them where
they were chased away by cultists in robes. Yeah.
Yeah. I mean, I think on one of our, I want to
say our Pittsburgh episode, we had one like that.
There's like a covered bridge or something. There's
allegedly a bunch of guys. in cult robes. I mean,
I do kind of wonder if it's just sort of like
the boogeyman in the cultural consciousness at
the time. So in the 80s, it was satanic panics.
We're scared of cultists. There's cultists everywhere.
In the 50s, we're terrified of teenagers because,
I don't know, rock and roll music and hoop skirts
are scary. Kind of makes you wonder if next we're
going to hear stories about people being chased
down dark roads by the singular they pronoun.
Honestly, I'm almost afraid to make that joke
because I think there are people out there who
actually believe that. So, you know, actually,
this is tangentially related. So I've come to
the conclusion that anyone who actually wants
to go viral has some kind of brain damage. And
I'll tell you why. Because I was at the gym the
other day and I noticed the guy in the locker
room had a T -shirt that said, this means war.
on the back. I didn't see exactly what it was
advertising. I've since been informed that it's
this one supplement brand that actually makes
pretty good stuff. But the point is, I was like,
that's a very aggressive shirt. And so I posted
something on Threads and Blue Sky, put the same
thing out on both platforms because I want to
see what the difference in reaction would be.
And essentially I said, at this point, I've been
lifting weights for 20 years and still can't
wrap my head around gym culture. There's a guy
in here wearing a supplement tee that says, this
means war. War? We're lifting heavy stuff and
putting it back down again because our dads didn't
love us, my guy. Maybe try therapy. And again,
I'm just, I'm having a laugh. Wear whatever.
I literally, I wear a gun store t -shirt to the
gym because I got it for free. So I go to the
gym sometimes with a fucking shirt that has an
AK -47 on it. So I'm not exactly, you know, cleaning
all this. So clearly this is a joke. This is
not meant to be taken literally. It did numbers
on blue sky and threads. It did way more on threads.
And I tell you, Paul, the replies to that message,
I used to say, if I go missing, it's the good
folk who you should be looking at. Now, I think
you should check the reply to that thread and
use that for your list of potential suspects.
Man, people got fucking mad at me. And again,
I'm kidding. Wear whatever the fuck you want
to the gym. I just, this is a funny little observation
from my goofy brain. Oh no. They swooped down
out of the trees like howler monkeys. It was
madness. And I thought, who wants this? Who wants
this kind of, why would anyone want to go viral?
This sounds like the dumbest thing in the world.
You made Brad so angry, spat out his supplement,
typed feverishly with his fat fingers. You're
not wrong. There were people, man, attacking
my weight, my looks, my, oh man, I didn't read
most of it because who gives a shit? They're
a bunch of dickless losers. I just like, wow,
you've just taken this to heart. Because to me,
there's nothing that says I'm balanced, like
typing the gym is my therapy in all caps to a
stranger in response to a joke on the internet.
I don't think it's working, fella. I don't think
it's working. Takes the edge off the steroids.
Yeah, yeah. No, no. I'm feeling like maybe it
doesn't. Oh, I'm just going to have some PCP
take the edge off. Oh, man. You know, it's funny.
Someone once asked me, do you take steroids?
Because if I'm really working out a lot, less
so now as I get older, but when I was younger,
I developed muscle very quickly. And the answer
is always no, because I don't need something
destabilizing my mood further. But there's this
doctor I follow on YouTube. He's a bodybuilding
guru, whatever. A lot of interesting information.
Been very valuable for me as I kind of change
up the way I lift as I get older. But he takes
gear and he's very open about it. And he said,
and bear in mind, this is a really intelligent
guy, very funny guy too, actually. And well,
sometimes, but he's like, oh yeah, no, when I'm
on the gear, all I think about is violence. Oh,
fantastic. Well, this great, great, good for
you. It's shortening your lifespan and turning
you into some kind of monster. I eat puppies.
Yeah. Yeah, I feel like Liver King, we're going
to get to the Delaware bit here in a sec, but
like the Liver King, when he finally accidentally
admitted to taking 15 grand worth of gear every
month, no wonder the guy's skin is red. He must
be just in a constant state of rage. One, from
being the Liver King, and two, just the pure
testosterone coursing through his veins. Are
you sure this wasn't Thunderbolt Ross? Liver
King wishes he was Thunderbolt Ross. All right,
so this is part two of our 13 haunted spots around
Delaware. Again, this is from... I don't have
to tell you again. You're not tuning in. This
isn't a fucking radio station. Sometimes I get
confused. Just in case you're tuning in to this
podcast that you have to download. No, I'm sorry,
guys. All right, so haunt three is Patty Cannon's
house. Patty Cannon was a six -foot, 230 -pound
murderess. She used to take on boarders in her
house, but the boarders would mysteriously disappear
during the night. Legend was that she would open
a secret bookcase, drag the borders through and
kill them, then dump them in the basement. She
also ran a slave trade, Jesus Christ, kidnapping
free slaves and selling them back into slavery.
By all accounts, she was not a nice woman. No
fucking shit, guys. That's the fucking understatement
of the year. Yeah, no kidding, right? It's like,
oh, this is my pen pal, Elizabeth Bathory. And
just the concept of cancer. Anyways. Her house
is in Reliance, Maryland, and almost straddles
the Delaware, Maryland line. People used to report
her to the police, but if she saw a Maryland
sheriff coming, she'd just walk over the line
into Delaware. I don't think that's how that
works, but whatever. What the fuck? I read that
last story. I guess I can't bitch about this.
Finally, someone found a body in her basement
and took her in. This does not speak well to
the law enforcement in this area. Like, well,
this woman runs like a startled squirrel every
time they turn up. And all her boarders never
fucking check out? But cops hate this one weird
trick. Click the link now. Like and subscribe.
It was going to be a big trial. All the town
turned out to watch. But Patty Cannon killed
herself before the trial started. She was left
in a pauper's grave and her skull was later stolen.
It's in the library in Dover now. But Patty Cannon's
ghost still haunts her house. Perhaps searching
for her lost head. They should send the different
parts of her body to the different corners of
the country like William fucking Wallace. That
was an adventure. There used to be a brothel
somewhere that was built on train lines that
they used to push into a different state. Prostitution
was legal there. I can't remember where it is,
but it's a very famous case. If you remember,
you know, tell me for my friend. And they would
push it. I can't remember if it's Arizona, New
Mexico, that kind of area. And they'd just push
it over the state line. This is why we need high
speed rail. So haunt number four is the Luz ferry
terminal. If you've ever parked your car in Luz
to take the ferry over to Cape May, your car
was sitting on a burial ground. That's right.
In 1964, they needed a parking lot for the ferry
in Delaware. so they paved right over the unknown
sailor's graveyard. Brilliant. The historical
marker behind the gift shop is the only indication
that the dead soldiers lie beneath the blacktop.
There are stories of a haunted copier -toner
forming the shape of a monk, sightings of a woman
scrubbing the floor when there's no cleaning
crew on the premises, and one woman feeling like
there's an arm holding her down. They were reaching
for that one. Jesus Christ. And there's a Virgin
Mary on a piece of toast. Why would a monk be
there, not a sailor? There's a lot of unresolved
questions in this one. Well, it's always nice
to respect the lost, isn't it? Yeah. Thank you
for your service. Here's a mass grave and a plaque.
I mean, that sounds about right. I know a guy
who can't get health insurance despite the fact
he served in the US military. So this checks
out. You had your parade. What else do you want
from us? Ongoing care for the injuries you sustained
while defending your country? Oh, we're not going
to help you with that. Absolutely not. All right.
Well, you know what's not shameful? This next
ad break. Because we love capitalism here at
the Ghost Story Guys. At least when it works
for us. If you become a patron or an Apple podcast
subscriber, you don't have to listen to these.
Patreon .com slash ghost story. You're protecting
us from capitalism. Think of that, you are a
bulwark against capitalism. That's, oh, we should
have, I should have thought of this a long time
ago. Consider yourself a Che Guevara. Anyways,
here's the answer. The man in the hotel room.
This happened about nine or ten years ago, and
it's something I've never figured out, and maybe
something I'll never figure out, but it stuck
with me all this time. Let me preface this by
saying I get sleep paralysis. I've had more instances
of sleep paralysis than I can count, but I'd
say an average around four times a year for the
past 30 years. Some years it's more often, some
years it's less. But by the time this experience
occurred, I was well versed enough to be able
to identify when it's happening and to be able
to pull myself out of it, because I have my own
method. Generally, When I get an attack of sleep
paralysis, I can hear everything around me, but
I can't move or make a noise. I've never seen
the old hag, and only once have I seen the man
with the wide -brimmed hat, and he had red eyes
when I saw him. And yes, he was pushing down
on my chest. Not cool, not fun, and I never want
that to happen again. But I also knew he wasn't
real as it was happening. So about 1 % of the
time I've had a visual hallucination. Normally,
it's just I can't move or speak, I can hear everything
around me, and somehow see the room even though
my eyes are shut. But this, it didn't fit the
mould of sleep paralysis, at least not in a way
that I've ever experienced it, and that's why
it's bothered me so much then, and it still bothers
me now. My son was young at the time, maybe around
five or six. My then -husband, now ex, and I
drove to visit grandmother for Christmas. She
lives around 100 miles away from me. She's two
extra bedrooms, but other family members scooped
up the extra rooms before we could. My husband
and I rented a hotel room a few miles from her
house. It was something like a Best Western or
a Holiday Inn. If I had to guess, I'd say at
the time it was probably less than 10 years old.
We checked into our hotel room quickly, dropped
our stuff off and went straight to my grandmother's
house. We had Christmas dinner with the family.
I don't think I'd had any alcohol at all. If
I did, it was maybe just a glass of wine. And
it was a long drive down to her house, two hours
at least, and then an eventful evening, so we
were beat. We left her house probably around
9pm and headed back to our hotel room. We drove
around for an extra 20 minutes, trying to get
our cranky son back to sleep, which made me even
more exhausted. The exhaustion is the thing that
had me thinking that maybe this was sleep paralysis,
because that usually triggers it for me. But
again, what happened next is like nothing I've
experienced before or since. The layout of the
room is that the hotel door opened up into a
little hallway, and directly to the left is the
bathroom with a tiny closet next to it. Moving
just past the hallway, the wall on the left turned
90 degrees and the beds were also to the left.
To the right, you could follow the wall straight
to the corner. There was a dresser along that
wall, and in that corner was an armchair. From
that corner… Follow the wall and there was a
window facing the parking lot and in the next
corner there was another armchair, maybe three
feet from the head of one of the queen beds.
This is where my husband and I slept. So we're
exhausted. My son had fallen asleep in the car
and I tucked him in and very quickly got changed
and into bed. My husband was in bed only moments
later and I shut the lights off. Before I fell
asleep, I observed that the light from the parking
lot peeked in over and around the side of the
window curtain. It was brighter than I would
have imagined with the curtains drawn, but I
was too exhausted for it to bother me, and I
passed out quickly. Sometime in the middle of
the night, I hear the click of a door handle
turning, the lever kind. I was alarmed, but my
body was still heavy with sleep, and I'm also
facing the direction of the door. I watch as
the orange light from the hotel hallway slides
across the wall opposite of me, and then slowly
disappeared as the door closes again, quietly.
I felt like I was passing in and out of sleep,
so the sight of this almost had a strobing effect.
A young man wearing medium blue, baggy jeans
and no shirt walks past the end of our beds.
At this point I'm more alert, but laying in bed
trying to figure out if this is real or not,
because it's so vivid. but I also have this feeling
I was passing in and out of consciousness still.
From the moment I heard the click of the door
handle, I'm scared out of my mind, but I'm still
so, so tired. I want to get up. I want to scream,
but I can't tell what's holding me in bed. Is
it fear or exhaustion? At this point, the man
is behind me. I can feel him looking at me, but
I'm absolutely terrified to turn over. If I turn
over, Is it going to spook him and he'll attack
my family? Right now I can tell he's not moving,
just looking at me. I finally felt alert enough
and realised my eyes are closed. What? But I
can feel him in the room. It was the scariest
thing I've ever done because I might be facing
an attacker in my hotel room. But I force my
eyes open and turn over. Nothing. There's no
one in the room. My heart's racing. Jesus, that
was so real. I look at my husband and he's fast
asleep with his back turned to me, snoring gently.
My son is asleep. Everything is how it was when
I fell asleep. I'm still on my back, looking
at the armchair in the corner at the end of the
beds with the soft white light of the parking
lot falling onto the chair and I begin to calm
down enough to fall back asleep. I can't tell
you how much time passed but it was dark and
then all of a sudden I can see the armchair in
the corner of the foot of the bed again. but
this time the man that entered the room earlier
is now sitting in it. With the light shining
from the window I can see him a little better.
It's a soft light and I can tell that his hair
is budged short and it's dark brown. He looks
young, around 18 to 25 years old. He's either
white with a tan or maybe Hispanic. I can't see
his face features too well but he could be a
model. I don't know celebrities well enough to
be able to compare him to someone but he's strong
cheekbones. the sort of perfect nose and a strong
jaw. Too dark to see the details, but just his
silhouette. He's sitting there, calmly, just
staring at me. He doesn't feel threatening or
menacing, but I'm still scared out of my mind
because there's a guy in my room in the middle
of the night sat staring at me. This time the
line between asleep and awake is even blurrier
in my head. Am I asleep? Are my eyes open? I
don't know, but I'm afraid to find out. I can
feel my husband asleep next to me, so I decide
the best move is to try and discreetly wake my
husband. He's still snoring with his back turned
to me, but my hand is on the bed next to his
back, so I decide to slowly move my hand closer
to his back and poke him. Finally I decide, F
this, I'm not dealing with this alone anymore,
and I turn towards my husband slightly, lift
myself on my elbow. This is where I'm sure I'm
awake, but before this, everything was blurry.
and I'm about to grab his arm and shake the hell
out of him when I notice the man is no longer
sitting in the chair anymore. Now I feel crazy.
What's going on? Where is this guy? Is he real
or not? I'm so tired, confused, frustrated and
scared. This man feels real. The details are
so vivid, but as I'm trying to sift through what
is reality and what isn't, I realise. I think
I can only see or feel this guy when I'm asleep.
I pray to myself that that's the end of it. and
I'm trying to convince myself now that this is
just my brain creating an elaborate lucid dream
and I'm safe, and it should stop now because
this is just a stupid dream and I've realised
this. I roll towards my husband, facing his back.
I close my eyes and start to drift off to sleep
again. I swear it was only a few minutes later,
and this time I can't see anything, but I feel
the guy looking at me, but this time while sitting
in the chair that's three feet away from my husband's
head. So I open my eyes and nobody's there. For
the rest of the night, I probably woke up every
hour or so. Every time I fell asleep, I could
feel this man's presence in the room. He never
tried to hurt us. He just watched us all night.
When I finally saw daylight through the curtains,
I got up and woke my husband up and told him
we had to leave. I tried not to alarm him or
my son. I just got them up and dressed. and I
think we were out of that hotel by around 7 .30
in the morning. The whole thing had a surreal
quality to it, because with the exception of
a few distinct moments, it was hard to tell when
my eyes were open and when they were closed,
when I was fully conscious, and when I was maybe
semi -conscious. There were parts of it that
I could write off as a dream if they weren't
so damn vivid. And that whole night, the lingering
feeling of being watched, even when I couldn't
see him. Every time I recount this incident to
myself or somewhere else, I'm no closer to understanding
what happened. I refuse to go back to that hotel,
though. I mean, in fairness, even though that
very much seems like normal sleep paralysis,
I would also not go back there. I don't know
why, but I feel I've seen that story before.
Oh, really? Literally within about two paragraphs,
I thought, I know this story. It's about a young
man in a hotel room that stares at her. And it
was. Interesting. Maybe we've told it on the
show here. I don't know. It's just really struck
a chord with me. I felt like I'd read it somewhere
else. I mean, we source these online, so very
possible you've read it elsewhere. That seems
exceedingly likely. It seems strangely familiar
to me. I don't know. Maybe I've pushed through
time again. I mean, you do have a knack for this,
I will say. Maybe. It reminded me of this book
I'm reading right now. It's called Raw Dog. It's
a road trip book where the author, Jamie Loftus,
samples hot dogs from all over America. She drives
across America trying all these different sort
of legendary hot dogs and also kind of mixes
in with talk about competitive hot dog eating
and the history of the hot dog and how it's made
and things like this. And I'm only about a third
of the way through, but one of the very first
hotels she stays in, there is very clearly a
meth deal happening while her and her boyfriend
are checking in. I just think, yep. I mean, I've
had not quite that experience, but one close
to it. And the only thing scarier than having
someone in your room is knowing that that same
hotel is meth central. And it's very possible
that person is actually someone in your room
and not just sleep paralysis. I wouldn't know.
Waking up in a crack house is pretty frightening.
I lived in one. Yeah. No, it was. It was great.
It's quite startling. Especially if you didn't
start the night there. No. Oh, okay. And I don't
do crack. What the fuck am I doing here? What's
going on? It's like going to a barbecue place
and having a sandwich. Why am I here? This doesn't
make any sense. Just having the sandwich. Yeah,
yeah, there you go. That's it. I'm here for the
great conversation, obviously. See, if you hadn't
let that lady tie you up, none of this would
happen. They're in my eyes. They're in my eyes.
What are? What are you on about? Can you not
see the little men? Yeah, great night. I've only
ever been around that once. And that was enough.
I remember, I'll never forget the smell. And
I said, what is that? And someone went, crack.
Oh, cool. I'm going. I'm going to go be somewhere
else that's not here. I'm going to go, I don't
know, stick my head in a lion's mouth, play Frogger
on a busy free, anything that's not hanging around
around crackheads. Yeah, I once got chatted up
by a very attractive young lady and we were outside
and I was having a cigarette and she said, oh,
do you mind if I smoke? And I went, no, of course
not. I mean, I'm smoking, what are you on about?
And she just pulled out a crack pipe. And I went,
okay, I don't think we're going to have this
conversation much longer. So, I can only tell
part of this story. It was you. Surprise! Pull
off my wig. Hello! Old man Smithers! No, I was
at, I used to have a customer who'd come into
the store and it was someone I'd worked with
as well. And her brother -in -law, her former
brother -in -law ended up getting together with
a very beautiful, like a shockingly beautiful
young lady. And it was bizarre because this guy
was no prize and she was extraordinarily attractive.
And at first, when they first got together, they
would come in the store and he just, of course,
he's beaming because he looks like a troll and
she looks like, you know, the bride on top of
a wedding cake. But then over time, they would
come in and she looked progressively rougher.
She was still very beautiful, but, you know,
there were some miles that the cake had been
left out in the rain in MacArthur Park. But he
looked haunted. And I eventually ran into...
Uh, my friend who, uh, who this woman I'd worked
with, who was brother, ex -brother -in -law this
was. And I said, so what's going on with so -and
-so? And she went, oh God. So he got together
with her. He was so happy about it, but all she
wants to do is have sex and smoke crack and it's
killing him. So be careful what you wish for
folks. All right. Next up on our tour of haunted
dental wear. We have Haunt 5, The Rockwood Mansion.
The ghosts at Rockwood aren't lonely. There are
plenty of spirits around to keep them company.
One of the ghosts is believed to be named Mary,
one of the last Renhurst daughters that lived
in the house. She lived at Rockwood until she
was 100 and died in the mansion. Philip Nord,
the museum director at Rockwood, said people
smell a lady's perfume and see a woman in the
room that was Mary's. The psychics and ghost
hunters at Frequent Rockwood report that ghosts
don't mind people being there, but Mary doesn't
particularly like people being in her private
space. I'm with you, Mary. I get it. One of the
psychics had conversations with several of the
ghosts there, Phil said, including a young girl
who had been jilted by her boyfriend and an elderly
man who didn't know why he was dead. There are
also several ghosts who don't live there, but
pass through from time to time. Phil said that
he was at Rockwood for an evening program once,
when he felt like he was hit by a cold, wet cloud.
He was spooked. Add that to the apparition and
it sounds like we've got ourselves a ghost. Or
several of them. And that kind of reminds me,
I actually forgot to bitch about this with that
bullshit story I read last, but they said three
mists. How the fuck can you count separate mists?
No. I could easily make out the three discrete
mists. Get the fuck out of here, Jesus Christ.
Write better fiction. Strangely, that's reminded
me, when we were wandering around Chillingham,
We went in one of the drawing rooms and the guides
there were brilliant. All the staff there were
so friendly and polite and nice. It was really
good. And we went in the drawing room and we
were talking about that. And Julie says, oh,
have you ever seen anything? And she says, well,
that's the thing about here. So you don't really
see things. You feel them and you smell them.
And she said, actually, a little earlier on,
probably about two minutes ago. the whole room
filled with the smell of lavender and that's
who we prescribed to one of our ghosts Ethel
I think she said and she said it was so strong
if it was still here I'd invite you you could
come under the ropes and have a and take in the
aroma which was a bit sad that we just missed
it but it was quite interesting that everybody
we spoke to that weren't there didn't sort of
tell us it was all full of ghosts and stuff it
was all sort of very it all seemed very gentle
I like that I honestly I think that's a way to
handle these kinds of things I think Leaning
too heavily into the ghost stuff feels crass
because, as you and I both know, you can't force
it. And then the opposite, you've got Craig Draw
Castle in Victoria where they just are like,
no, this is not a real thing here, even though
I've fucking felt spirits there. Yes, like the
lady in our local Tudor hamlet. When I said,
oh, what do you know about the white lady? She
says, oh, not that nonsense. Yeah. Again, going
back to Ruth's book, the number of people who
take the time to write it and say, well, I've
lived here 30 years and I've never had an experience.
Who fucking cares? Precisely. Nobody's keeping
count. Calm down. Haunt 6, Turnquist. On Delancey
Road, just off Route 40 at the Delaware -Maryland
line, is a neighbourhood called Turnquist. In
1963, a plane with 81 passengers was flying over
the Maryland -Delaware border when lightning
struck the wing and ignited the plane. The plane
crashed, and the 81 people all died. and their
bodies were scattered all over a field on Delancey
Road. Turnquist was built on that field, and
residents report many strange happenings, noises
and sightings. All that remains of the ground
where those bodies fell is a remembrance plaque,
right next to the sign for the neighbourhood.
Town planners in Delaware don't seem to give
a shit, do they? I was thinking someone's cousin
owns a plaque -making business. Lots of people
died here. Let's build something. We'll honor
their memory with this Curves Fitness Center
and a Jamba Juice. Cult House Road Back in high
school, we used to go out to the valley and mess
around Cult House Road, like I'm sure every Delawarean
has. We'd meet at Wendy's, what is now the new
Starbucks, on 202 and pile into one or two cars
and head out for a ride. Most of the time, it
was just a summer drive with the windows down.
One time, we were stopped by cops because they
were filming that M. Night Shyamalan movie, The
Village, but... Nothing else ever really happened.
One night, one of our older friends was eager
to pass down some knowledge to us. He knew of
a few places where people used to go out and
have secret bonfires. We were feeling like veterans
of the valley rides at this point, so we thought
we'd try to find where these secret gatherings
were. We drove out to the valley in two cars,
found a little pull -off to park near Coldhouse
Road, and began walking into the woods. There
was about seven of us, so at first we felt safe
in numbers, but that feeling didn't last long.
The further into the woods we went, the quieter
it got. We talked less and less and the sounds
of the road faded until the only sound we heard
was our footsteps through the thick brush. It
started to feel a little off and the hairs on
the back of my neck were standing up. No one
wanted to be the one to say they were creeped
out, but all of us felt it. It was a strange
feeling, like we were being watched. It didn't
feel right. Someone or something was aware we
were there and shouldn't be. Then we heard a
loud and abrupt scream in the direction we were
heading. Not close, but too close for comfort.
We all stopped dead in our tracks. And then we
heard it. And then again we heard it. And again.
It was short and high -pitched and sounded like
it was getting closer. We stood there panicking
because we didn't want to end up running into
the darkness and getting lost. But then we heard
a crash coming from above us. something falling
from the treetops, breaking branches on its way
down, heavy enough to make a thud when it hit
the ground. We took off. Lucky enough, we made
it back to the cars, getting into the same ones
we arrived in. We immediately got back on the
road, some of us laughing, some of us scared
silent. At the time, we didn't know what it was,
but now that I'm older, I know that the noise
was a fox. If you've never heard one's bark,
even if you have, it's horrifying and loud, albeit
harmless. But when you're surrounded by darkness
in the woods, it has a different effect. I don't
know what fell through the trees, but I'm going
to guess it was either one of the group members
throwing something heavy, or a larger dead branch
that broke off. I never tried to define it more
than that. But the night didn't end there. We
started to head back towards 202. We were going
to meet at Golden Castle Diner, as we usually
did after a valley ride. We were starting to
calm down now that we had a better feel for our
surroundings, but we were still in a remote enough
area that there weren't any other cars around
than us. The roads were winding and there were
no lights. I was in the lead car. Around one
of the bends in the road, our friends in the
car behind us started to come up on us quick,
flashing their high beams and honking their horn
at us. We were finally getting to the point where
we could all laugh about what just happened,
and we could see our friends in the car behind
us felt the same. Then they started to come up
on the side of us, on the opposite side of the
road. The roads were still winding, so this was
not a smart idea. After riding our ass and pulling
the stunt, we decided to call them, just as we
were getting back out to one of the main valley
roads. What the hell are you doing, man? Quit
driving like an asshole, someone said. The response
was scarier than the woods. What are you talking
about? We're about to be at Golden Castle. We
went silent again. In the chaos that happened
in the woods, we didn't realize we got to our
car last, and they had already taken off. The
flashing headlights behind us turned off once
we got back out to the main road as if to usher
us away. Whoever it was wanted us out of their
territory, and we were happy to oblige. That
really put an end to our valley rides for a while.
Let me say I do not recommend looking for anything
in the valley. It was stupid and dangerous of
us to do that. There are strange people doing
stranger things out there, and they do not want
you around. I've heard of a few people being
shot at for trespassing. We were lucky no one
got hurt. And I will say, fucking around in the
woods like that, you are more likely to end up
on a meth lab than you are a cult house. Yeah,
yeah. Well, there's many stories, especially
in Oregon and Washington, of unsuspecting hikers
and travelers wandering into an illegal growing
area. disappearing, aren't they? I think I told
that story years ago. I was drinking in the bowling
alley in Revelstoke and I got talking to this
guy who was a friend of a friend and he was telling
me the story that one time he had been asked
to help out at a black market grow during trim
season. They basically just, they needed guys
and someone, the other guy who he was supposed
to cover for, he decided he wasn't coming to
work so they needed someone. His buddy said,
will you help us? And he said, yeah, no problem.
But he was out there, he was working. And all
of a sudden he heard this guy behind him say,
don't move. Turn around slowly. So he turned
around. This guy was pointing a pump action shotgun
at his face. He was one of the managers at this
place. He had not been informed they were going
to have another guy on staff. So he thought he
was there right in the place. And he said, man,
you don't know fear until you're staring down
the barrel of a shotgun. He said, your whole
world shrinks down to that barrel. Yeah, it does.
As a survivor of Shotgun Frank. I can attest
to that, yes. Especially if it's a double -barreled,
sewn -off shotgun. That would do it. I mean,
I guess getting shot by one is as bad as getting
shot by two, but the fear of it would be substantial.
Character building, I feel. You know, I've fired
shotguns, and I'd rather stay on that side of
them, if all things are equal. Yeah, I don't
fancy being shot by anything, really. That's
why I always get salty about people who are irresponsible
with guns. Because some of these gun dipshits,
it's a fetishization thing. They're not responsible
with them. And again, those are not fuck -around
machines. It will end very badly if you do. Yeah.
All right, speaking of respect, let's pay respect
to some more haunted spots in Delaware. Number
seven, the Ticking Tomb. In the mid -1700s, Charles
Mason and Jeremiah Dixon were staying in Delaware
while they worked on their famous line. Mason
was also working on another project, a chronometer,
basically the original version of a watch. He'd
perfected his invention and wanted to leave to
go back to England and collect enough money to
be rich for the rest of his life. But he'd left
the chronometer in a tent that he and Dixon had
set up and went to get some fresh fish from the
fish market. While he was gone, a fatty little
kid crawled... How the fuck did I know he was
fat? That seems very, very specific. I feel very
called out by this, is what I think. A fatty
little kid crawled into his tent and ate everything
he could get his grubby little paws on. Jesus
Christ. A fat kid pissed this person off at some
point. I think there's a lot of sort of trauma
here in this story. A lot of plaques and a lot
of trauma. They probably built a plaque there.
Fuck it. Fuck it, 810. Well, we're not done yet,
so we could find out that's the case. But according
to this, Chunk also ate the chronometer. When
Mason realized what happened, he tried to get
the chronometer out, but it was too late. The
chronometer was... I'm certainly... The author
was just like, no one's going to keep reading
this far down. I'm just going to say whatever
bullshit I want. Mason raised a toast that the
fatty keep the chronometer with him until the
end of time. Jesus Christ! This is 2006? The
kid grew up to be a clockmaker. Fuck off, he
did. He could shit clocks. Need a new clock?
There you are. Look, there's all the bits of
that. That's what I do is I eat the parts and
then I shit out a clock. He was buried in the
graveyard at the London Tract Church in Landenburg.
His grave is a flat marker. We have yet another
plaque. next to a crumbling heart tombstone.
If you lay on the ground and put your head to
his tombstone, you can still hear the ticking
of Mason's chronometer. Jesus Christ. What a
terrible episode this is. The stories are just
garbage. This is a garbage state full of garbage
ghost stories. Holy shit. Fucking Captain Hook.
I invented the clock, but then a kid ate it.
Honest. A fat kid, no less. Have I mentioned
he's fat? The fatty, fat little bastard? I invented
the watch. and a child edit that apparently didn't
shit. What goes in comes out, because as far
as I'm aware, the body can't digest metal of
that magnitude. Was it you who introduced me
to the movie Tiptoes? No. Have we talked about
the movie Tiptoes? We have talked about Tiptoes.
I saw the trailer, and I was like, oh my fucking
God. Yeah, so folks, Tiptoes is a movie where
Gary Oldman plays a little person, and it's pretty
bad. It's very, very bad. But the people who
wrote that movie know nothing about any of that
world. They very clearly, they did zero research
about any of the causes of dwarfism or what life
is like, what it's like to live a life with that
particular medical, nothing, absolutely nothing.
They're just like Gary Oldman, have him walk
around on his knees with shoes stapled to his
jeans. We're done. Let's just shoot this fucking
thing and move on. And I feel like whoever wrote
this newspaper knows nothing about children.
Or the obese. And they're just like, you know,
I bet they don't shit. I bet that's why they're
so fat. They just don't shit. You know, again,
like I cut this guy off in traffic one day and
he's like, fuck him. And he just wrote a whole
newspaper article about how mad he was at me.
But through the form of like a ghost story. I
suspect that somebody at this newspaper got hold
of a copy of old ghost stories and just thought,
fuck proofreading it. We'll just copy and paste
it all. Because I'm sure it'll be fine. Look,
this book's from 1936. I mean, how offensive
can it be? We did a find and replace for the
N -word. What else do we got to do here? Holy
shit. Well, we have more of these, Sterling.
We have got to get up to the fucking 13, so strap
in, folks. I'm sure there's some latent racism
hidden in another one of these stories. I think
it's very generous of you to assume it's kidding.
I'm trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Let's find out, shall we? In story number eight,
dead presidents. Ever feel the hairs stand up
on the back of your neck while you're sitting
at the bar of dead presidents? Don't blame the
beer. Blame a customer who frequented the tavern
in the 1950s. He was a prankster, always playing
jokes on the staff and other tavern regulars.
The poor prankster didn't get the last laugh,
however. I know, I know, I just read it myself.
He slipped in a puddle of urine whilst in the
men's room in the late 60s and died. But he liked
the place so much he decided to stick around
as a ghost. Tale all this time there. We've all
died slipping in a puddle of urine in the toilet.
I mean, slipping over, as far as I'm aware, doesn't
kill you. There seems to be some pertinent information
missing from that story. Yeah, like there were
six inches of urine on the floor and he just
slowly drowned in it. That's all I can figure.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. You've heard of dry drowning?
Don't go to Delaware. Delaware, drowning in piss.
We call it the pissy state. This is the dumbest
show we've ever done. Drowning in piss is my
favorite metal band. Yes. There's a lot missing
from some of these stories, like facts, evidence,
and reality. I just love, too, like some guy,
some prankster, name him. If there is some legend
out there who used to tickle people's neck, I'd
love to see you do that shit in a bar and get
away with it. Titchy Tony. Come out live. Yeah,
Titchy Tony, who drowned in piss. Yeah, he didn't
slip in the toilet. Big Malk didn't like him
tickling his watch neck and rammed him through
the mirror. And then said, oh, no. Tickly Tony
slipped in some piss again and he's dead. He
died of natural causes. He was shot six times.
It's suicide. To the back of the head. This week
on Unsolved Mysteries. We're going to take another
ad break. After I apologize for this terrible
fucking show. Good Lord. Green Man. The setting
is my dad's old house that is debatably haunted.
It's located in a small one stoplight town in
rural Delaware. It was built in the early 1900s
and surely has a long history that I'm not totally
versed on. My dad moved here to live and run
his business after splitting with my mum when
I was nine. Without sounding too stereotypical,
his house just had a weird vibe to it. So much
so that my dad's girlfriend, who often stayed
with him, would get a hotel room when he was
out of town on work travelling duty. She claims
you would hear the typical haunted noises like
footsteps and doors closing on their own. Aside
from paranormal activity, it was factually documented
that there were two degenerate kids who lived
with their parents there in the past who were
known for being troublemakers and often getting
arrested. Before I try and describe the main
event of this story, it's worth noting at the
time that my dad was a full -blown alcoholic
trying to recover. He would tell of agonising
nights trying to quit drinking cold turkey, where
he would wake up in a delirious sweat, hearing
what seemed to be a full -blown party happening
in the main room downstairs, with clinking glasses
and shouting voices. But when he would open his
door, it would all cease. He would also be visited
by living and non -living friends of his, who
all aimed to help him get better. He'd become
fully sober and live another twenty -odd years
alcohol -free. One night, I'm staying over at
his house, and it's when I'm about nine and sleeping
in his bed. He'd just moved in and didn't have
my room set up yet. Nothing out of the ordinary
so far this night, but I still get goosebumps
at this point. We're dead asleep, it's probably
around 2am, and I wake up for no apparent reason
and look across the bed on my dad's side to see
a small, translucent being sitting or standing
beside, staring at me. I fear sounding off the
wagon here, but it looked like a small alien
-like being, except it was see -through and sort
of emanating a greenish light. It looked away
from me and got back to what it appeared to be
working away on a computer of sorts, which I
couldn't really see because it seemed to be below
the mattress line. I didn't know what to think,
so I rolled over. I processed what I thought
I saw, rationalised it must have been a dream,
rubbed my eyes and looked over again. And it
was still there looking at their computer screen.
At this point, I realised I was fully awake and
totally unsure of what I was seeing. So I closed
my eyes and tried to go to sleep as fast as possible.
My dad never stirred and was passed out the entire
time. And the being made no noise. The alien
just came by to use the computer. All right.
Well, let's bring up more Delaware stories, because
I don't know. Good for him. I don't think these
are going to be better than the ones we're reading.
But this one is number nine, Deer Park Tavern.
Back in the days... Oh, God. Slaves were traded
on the porch of the tavern, and some spirits
may still linger there. Before it was the Deer
Park, it was the St. Patrick's Inn, which burned
down. Edgar Allan Poe visited the inn on December
23rd, 1843. He was trying to get out of his carriage
and get up to the steps to the inn when he got
stuck in the mud and fell. Not just one get up
and brush himself off, Poe put a curse on this
building. Oh, Jesus. There it is. There it is.
We found it. The lowest point in this entire
article. Because apparently Edgar Allan Poe was
a fucking warlock. Anyway, so yeah, Edgar Allan
Poe put a curse. The curse lingers and people
who've had a little too much to drink have been
known to blame their stumbles up and down the
stairs on the curse. Boy, they were really struggling
to get to 13 for this fucking thing. Haunted
10. Ghosts at UD. There are several resident
ghosts at the University of Delaware. They must
have gotten ghost tenure. Struggling already
here. A man named Edward Roach was murdered on
the steps of the Old College. Old College is
the building on Main Street, right across from
South College Avenue. People have seen his ghost
on the steps there and in the lobby. In Mitchell
Hall, a ghost named Elmo rose. Mitchell Hall
has an upper level and a tall dome. The story
is that Elmo fell from the dome to his death
on the floor of Mitchell Hall. Residents of Warner
Hall, a girl's dorm, report hearing banging during
the night. This could go one of two ways here.
There was a girl who lived there who committed
suicide and her ghost stayed behind. Now the
ghost spends the night banging against a false
wall somewhere in the dorm. Yeah, that noise,
it's a ghost banging. There's nobody in Brenda's
room. It's the ghost. Oh man, it's just like,
if AI had been a thing in 2006, I would say this
person just said to AI, generate the worst possible
article about ghosts you can. Here's the thing
with things like this. This is what always annoys
me. This is when you always find badly written
ghost stories. I mean, I bought a couple of books
when I was up northeast the other day. One of
them, apparently a man starved to death after
four days. And I just thought, that's fucking
bollocks, right? So, and I just went, bollocks.
I shouted out loud, reading this book to myself,
I went, bollocks. And Julie said, what's wrong?
And I explained it to her. And she said, yes,
that does sound a little unplausible. And I went,
no, it's bollocks, Julie. Bollocks. That's what
it is. Some say somebody committed suicide. Well,
I'm sure they would have had a fucking record
of it because they would have had to have taken
her out of the building, told all her family.
She had to probably go to hospital. There would
be a record. You can't say in 2006, you know,
this is not like we're reading something from
1938 where there's no idea of resource or records,
right? You can't just say, oh, such and such
happened and don't say any names, dates or anything.
It's just... intangible bollocks. I mean, who's
Elmo? Somebody called Elmo fell off a fucking
roof. Everybody would know about that because
surely everybody would go, oh, like Elmo off
Sesame Street, oh, with people tickling him.
And everybody would know. They'd know who fucking
Elmo was. They wouldn't think, oh, yeah, that
sounds right. Why is he on the dome? What's he
doing up there? Stake in the ground. There aren't
that many guys in this world named Elmo. When
we lose one, we notice. Exactly. Exactly. It
would be major news. Oh God. It reminds me of
whenever I Google, uh, whatever, like I Google
kind of famous historical hauntings and you just,
you realize they're all using the same bullshit
details and you just think, well, okay, so this,
this is all lies because you're all repeating
exactly the same facts to me. I was reading something
about a haunted location and people keep calling
because they say, oh, there was a lunatic asylum.
That's what it was. There was a lunatic asylum
and the doctor was experimenting on the patients.
And this person said, no, this has never existed
here whatsoever. I don't know where you people
keep getting this. And it's the same quality
of research. Yeah, absolutely. It's like all
those people who are going about the Winchester
house who basically say, oh yeah, all the ghosts
came because of a husband inventing the Winchester
rifle and it was all the ghosts of everybody
that was killed by it. So why did she have a
fucking shooting range in the house, boys? Yeah.
And why are the houses of people like the Crump
family not haunted to all hell? Yeah. I've noticed
recently that people have started claiming the
Valeska house, right? Which is one of the most
heinous murder cases in 20th century America.
I mean, numerous axe murders that were going
on there, which I clearly think are very much
linked, personally. You could just jump on a
train going wherever. and murder people and they
wouldn't have the first clue, would they? And
so now certain, I'd say paranormal investigators,
but essentially bullshit artists are claiming
that it's demons that haunt the house, not the
poor bastards that were murdered in their beds
by some maniac. No, no, no, it has to be a demon.
No, you don't need to elaborate that awful story.
What happened there on that night is heinous
enough without going down bullshit boulevard
and bringing demons into it. Deal with the horror
of the reality of what happened. That is all
you need. You don't need anything else. Honestly,
man, I think these people just have a, like a
spitter. And they just hit it and they spin.
And so it's like demons, skinwalkers, whatever
the bullshit thing of the moment happens to be.
They just, oh no, it was this. That's it. It
was, uh, it was, uh, it was a rake this time.
Boomed by an orb. Yep. Yep. Slenderman was here.
It's just embarrassing. Yeah. I, I mean, when
I was doing that research for the show I was
on, you know, I, I guessed it on a podcast recently
and I did some research and just looking at some
of the YouTube stuff I found. It's just, again,
part of it is I think people like being lied
to. They like, they respond to this shit. So
to a degree, I can't blame them. But at the same
time, I can because it's got zero integrity and
it's just sad. Yes, absolutely. It reminds me,
a couple of years ago, somebody sent me a video
of this UK paranormal investigator who I've never
heard of. And watching this particular video,
I never want to hear it again. And he claimed
to have gone to this abandoned house where this
guy had murdered his wife and three children
in the Manchester area. Right. And so rather
than carry on watching this, I thought, well,
I know about horrible things. And that would
be with the amount of crime documentaries and
serial killer things I watch. I would have seen
that case. I know I would have because stuff
like that doesn't happen very often here. It
does happen, but not that. That would be front
page news all over the place. Nothing, absolutely
nothing of anything happened in the area that
he claimed it had. Couldn't find anything anywhere.
And you just think, why would you just create
bullshit to promote something? There's enough
horrible things that go on without it. I mean,
Julie's been watching a series recently. called
evil lives here which is quite amusing because
there's like 13 seasons of it i mean there's
evil everywhere it would seem this particular
series should basically be called i ignore red
flags is what it should be called because there's
like one woman going oh yeah well um when we
first started dating he used to take me to strip
bars and i just thought that was odd but that's
just the way he was and so they were showing
this clip of like this recreation and she sat
next to him looking really disapproving while
he's wanging money on stage at these strippers
And I'm thinking, right, at what point do you
think, hey, this is the man for me, right? We've
got bits where I'm like hanging the kid's doll
from the bed above her and waking her up going,
look at your doll's dead. Your doll's dead. What
the fuck? Every night, right, he goes out the
house wearing a jet black coat with a gun. And
he just says, oh, I'm off for a walk. And he
goes for five hours and comes back. And she thinks,
oh, well, it's just his thing. And I'm like,
what's going on here, right? His mum won't allow
him to come to the house when she's on her own,
right? And she thinks he's a really good catch.
He goes away for a weekend. Doesn't tell her.
He just goes out Friday night, says, I'm just
going for a drive. Turns up Sunday night looking
exhausted. Where have you been? Oh, my car broke
down. What? Hang on. What? My hands are sure
tired from all this strangling. What? Here's
the best one, right? The next door neighbour.
The whole street gets locked down. The police
have to turn up because the next door neighbour
jumps through a bedroom window to escape a man
wearing a baraclava, right? What's he got in
his wardrobe in a special box? He's got a baraclava,
right? So when she says to him, why have you
got that in here? He goes, oh, well, it's when
I'm cold. And she goes, oh, all right then. Right,
hang on. Your next door neighbour, right, has
just had to jump out the window, which he didn't
mention. It was the daughter that told her. And
he went, oh, yeah, yeah, she fell out the window.
Well, she didn't, because everybody's saying
she had to jump because somebody was in her house.
You've got a band of clobber, which he'd been
walking around in the house wearing before the
attack happened. Eventually, after something
else happened, she goes, I just wasn't sure anymore.
Anymore? Back in hell, love. Meanwhile, BTK's
wife is like, honey, come on. I ignore red flags.
I live with, I'm a fucking idiot. They might
as well call it, really. I found a sock full
of women's driver's licenses in the bureau and
there's a smell coming from the basement. What
do you guys think I should do? The wedding's
in an hour. That's typically something you would
read on Reddit. Yeah, yeah, exactly. My husband
-to -be has a room in his house that I'm not
allowed in, but I've sneaked a look around the
door when he opened it and it seems to be full
of trinkets and jewelry. I often hear anguished
cries and pleas for mercy. He watches some weird
programs. He's got a giant picture of Ted Bundy
above the fireplace. Should I be worried? He
just likes to strip down and flex in front of
a mirror. All right, folks. In the interim between
stories, Paul and I made the executive decision
that we're not going to bother with the last
story, which is probably going to be equally
as terrible as some of the ones we've read so
far tonight. And so instead, we are going to
just finish out this 13 most haunted locations
around Delaware, this fabulous piece of journalism
that the News Register has brought to us. And
I will start us off with number 11, Old New Castle.
Old New Castle is riddled with ghosts. There
are the ghosts of people who were hung and burned
at the stake in front of the courthouse lingering.
The most popular and most seen ghost in Old Newcastle
is a resident of the Amstel House, Bruce DeLeo,
the director of the Newcastle Historical Society
said, Many people tell stories of seeing a woman
in blue in the windows of the house when there
is no one there. The woman in blue has been seen
for more than a century. In the 1940s, a caretaker
who lived in the house was interviewed for a
newspaper about the woman in blue, and seeing
an apparition walking around the house with her.
No one is positive who she is, but something
must have happened to her there that was strong
enough to bring her back to it. Jesus Christ.
This is just, the guy's just given up like we
have. There's something about Delaware that just
does this to you. You're just like, fuck. Maybe
he's on allergy medication too. He's like, I
just, oh God, just make it end. I don't know,
something. There was a newspaper somewhere. All
right. One woman named Elizabeth gave birth to
a child in the house. The child died after a
few days, and Elizabeth died because of complications
from the birth within a few weeks. Her husband
has a mourning ring made and inscribed with the
words, I mourn thy virtue lost to me. That ring
is still on display in the house. Okay, we have
one fact. We have an actual proven fact. Another
was a woman named Anna Finney, who was engaged
to a British officer killed in 1755 in the Battle
of the Wilderness outside of Pittsburgh. She
was devastated. She was devastated and so grief
stricken that she took to her bed and refused
to marry. Her father had other plans and married
her off to her cousin, making her Anna Finney
Finney. I don't think that's how that would work.
I mean, don't get me wrong. I believe that someone's
father back then would be like, well, whatever
your property, we're going to marry you off to
someone. Because, you know, it was a horror show.
But I don't think if you marry someone who's
got the same last name as you, you just pile
it on. I'm not sure how that, I don't think that's
how that works. You know, I think we're just,
we're seeing this author like gradually just
lose touch with their sanity. They're slowly
going mad and they're just inventing more and
more unlikely things in the hopes that you will
stop reading so they don't have to finish the
article. If you read it back to front, it's quite
an uplifting story about a journalist who rediscovers
his love for writing. I like that version better
because otherwise we're just watching some guy
climb into a bottle. Hey, why is Mike over there
with two pencils in his eyes? Mike, are you okay?
I'm just writing this fucking article about ghosts.
A genie came and showed him the future of journalism.
He's like, fuck it, man. I'm out. Go on, get
back to Finny Finny. Yeah, yeah. That's it. That's
it. That's it. Just Anna Finny Finny, Finn. And
then there was another Elizabeth who lived there
and watched as her husband and two of her three
children died of TB in the house. After their
death, she moved in with her husband's family
and rented out the house. Maybe the woman in
blue is one of them. Honestly, this author could
basically just write who gives a fuck under every
one of these things and the effect would be the
same. Maybe it's real, maybe it's not. I'm just
sitting here in my study polishing my shotgun
waiting for God to finally stop being a coward
and take me. I mean, yeah, because people dying
of TB is really rare in those days. Never happened.
No, no, never once. I'm going to read a story
that's clearly been... written by Zach Baggins.
Haunt 12, The Valley. Though the valley is mostly
urban legend, it still has to be addressed here.
There is a house off Cossard Road called the
Demon House where ghosts peer through the windows.
Straight away there's a bit of disconnect there.
While you drive up to the Demon House, the trees
look like they're moving and bending away from
the house on whatever is in it. Legend has it
if you get too close, black SUVs will chase you
away. We don't want to get close enough to find
out. Fucking hell. You know who's driving that
black SUV? It's the poor guy that owns the house
going, I wish these people had fuck off. Trees
that bend. Whoa. Fuck me. Do they not get wind
in Delaware? Paul, I just opened my eyes. Like,
I just looked at the page and immediately I saw
slave napper. I'm going to hate this so much.
Haunt 13, Woodburn Mansion. There are ghosts,
then there are our kind of ghosts. Ghosts that
like to drink. This is the one true thing you've
said this entire article. Woodburn Mansion in
Dover is the governor's mansion, and also home
to four ghosts. Our favorite ghost is also known
as the Tiplink Ghost. The afterlife apparently
could not quench his love of good wine. If you're
in Woodburn and happen to leave some wine out
overnight in a glass, when you wake up in the
morning, it will be you. And the dog sleeps all
day. Weird. There's no connection at all. Okay.
A couple more paragraphs, then we get to do ghost
parts and go home. One night, two residents sat
at a table with wine in front of them and were
determined to stay up all night to see the ghost
come and drink their wine. They fell asleep in
their chairs, but when they woke up, the wine
was gone. This ghost takes down an entire decanters
of wine and may have made a trip down to the
wine cellar. Our question for the Tipling ghost
is, are there hangovers in the realm where you
live? Another ghost is a man dressed in turn
-of -the -century garb, breeches, puffy shirt,
that kind of stuff. That kind of stuff. I guess
this guy's just fully given up at this point.
Nobody was wearing puffy shirts at the end of
the 19th century. See you later. He may as well
just put in a stage direction, dismissive hand
wave. You know. He's joined by a little girl
who appears to float across the reflecting pond.
The fourth ghost at Woodburn is not as good -spirited
as the first three, probably because he never
gets any of the wine. He is the ghost of a slave
-napper. Yep, I hate this already. He used to
kidnap, free, or escape slaves, chain them up,
and then hide them until he could sell them back
into slavery. One night, the slave -napper...
I don't love that they've given him, like, a
playful nickname. Yeah, you should just write
The Bastard. Yeah, at best. At best. Anyways,
one night the bastard was being chased. He hid
in a poplar tree on the grounds of Woodburn.
He hid so long that he fell asleep and accidentally
strangled himself with his chains. Of course
he did. They really did save the best for last.
Who hasn't done that? This is like me trying
to end a Fear Daily story. Oh, and then he strangled
himself with his chains. I don't fucking know.
Whatever. He shat himself to death. He was in
the tree and then a fat boy, ticking, turned
up and ate the tree and him. Yeah, ticking fat
boy came out of the pond. Anyway, what can people
hear near this tree? Oh, you're going to make
me read it, aren't you? You can't leave us hanging
like this, unlike him. The poplar tree is gone,
but the ghost is still there, rattling his chain.
Holy shit. Guys, I promise the next episode will
be better. Good Lord. I'm jacked up on allergy
meds, and I still think this is bad. I'm incredulous.
God, I hate loose stories. You know, I found
this in the newspaper. I was so stoked. I was
like, oh, great. We can thread this in with our
thing. And I read the first couple. I'm like,
yeah, that's fine. It's fine. It's just kind
of a little bonus thing to add to the stories
we've already got. And it just, I was not prepared
for, you know, not only would it go off the rails,
it would go over the lip of the canyon and crash
on the rocks below. Yes. Do we have many downloads
in Delaware? Not after this. Well, with our sincerest
apologies, that was our Delaware episode. Me
too. It gave us the clock boy. It gave us drowning
in piss. I think, you know, it's not all bad
news. Yeah. We went on a journey tonight, folks.
I don't know that it was somewhere we wanted
to go, but we went on a journey. That has been
our Delaware show. Thanks for listening. Thanks
for enjoying this much of it. If you live in
Delaware, send us an email. Explain why your
ghost stories are so bad. Ghoststoryguys at gmail
.com. We'd like to thank the Tourist Board of
Delaware for sponsoring today's episode. Thanks,
guys. I think their director of tourism is going
to be on the building across from mine. I'm going
to see a red dot appear on my chest. It's going
to send bullseye after you. Shoot that smarmy
son of a bitch. All right, guys. Again, if you
want to get in touch, ghoststoryguys .gmail .com
is the place to do it. We're also on Instagram
as The Ghost Story Guys. We're on Facebook as
The Ghost Story Guys Finally Made a Group. And
we're on Reddit as r slash ghoststoryguyspodcast.
We're going to take a quick break and we'll be
back with the Ghost Wars show notes. Hey there,
listeners. Before you reach for that skip 15
seconds ahead button, I promise you this isn't
an ad. We wanted to take a minute to talk to
you about mental health. On this show, I've always
tried to be as honest and open as possible about
my struggles with depression and anxiety, because
even though we've come a long way towards acknowledging
the very real damage these things can do, there
is still way too much lingering stigma about
reaching out for help. And when you start to
feel like there's no help, it's easy to start
feeling like there's no hope. But Paul has joined
me today to remind you there is always hope and
there's always help. We're not going to try and
talk you out of self -harming right now because
we know that's not how it works. Instead, what
we wanted to do was tell you something now and
hope that should things get bad, you'll remember
it and make a phone call or send a text message
before you make any permanent decisions. As someone
who knows all too well, Just how important mental
health can be, it's never too late to reach out.
In Canada, the number to call is 133 -456 -4566.
In the USA, the new number to call is 988. That's
988. In the UK, the number to call is 116 -123
or text SHOUT. That's S -H -O -U -T. to 85258.
In Australia, the number to call is 131114. However
bad shit seems, it will pass, and no matter what
your brain might be telling you at any given
moment, and believe me when I say I know this
intimately, there are people who love you, and
people who care deeply about how you treat yourself.
Should a time come when you find yourself despairing,
Please know that we've both been where you are,
and there is a way back to the world. Take care.
Welcome back. The Ghost Story Guys are Luke Greensmith,
who helps us find our stories. Sarah Kent, who
manages our Reddit community. Tanya Downing,
who helps manage our Facebook community. Our
paranormal conductor is a very sniffly Mr. Brown
Snow. And of course, my friend and co -host is
the one, the only, the inimitable, Paul Bestel,
the paranormal Johnny Carson himself, host of
Mysteries and Monsters. Paul, what's coming up
on M &M? We head to Scotland as I unpick, in
the company of Malcolm Robinson, the Bonnie Bridge
UFO enigma. As we talk about, one of Britain's,
if not Britain's, most notorious hotspot for
UFOs, with thousands of reports going back. which
saw a massive influx of people, news reports
and camera crews from all around the world turning
up in the 90s. But it's still going on. The locals
just can't be arsed to talk about it anymore
because they're sick of people taking the piss
out of them. So we have a good chat about that.
And it's, yeah, it's a really great overview
of that particular area, which, you know, as
we were talking about Chillingham earlier, seemed
to have been one of those places where you mention
UFOs in the 90s. It was Bonnybridge. It was the
place to be. They were even talking about building
a spaceport there. There were petitions handed
into Parliament and the Prime Minister of the
time asking for an inquiry and the government
refused to do so. So it's still going on there.
It's a very interesting location for all kinds
of weird things in the sky. Fascinating. And
where can everyone find you online? You can find
Mysteries and Monsters across most social media
networks and all podcast sites. I'm LargelyTheTruth
on Instagram, Threads, Blue Sky, and Letterboxd,
and you can find my horror fiction show, Fear
Daily, everywhere fine podcasts live. As we said
at the top of the show, we couldn't do this without
our patrons, Apple Podcasts, and YouTube subscribers.
And if you would like to join that merry band,
head to patreon .com slash ghoststoryguys, that's
patreon .com slash ghoststoryguys, or become
a friend of the cabin on Apple Podcasts or YouTube.
That gets you access to bonus conversations between
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if you support the show at the $20 level, well,
my friend, that makes you part of a very elite
club. That makes you part of a little something
we like to call Ghost Force. That's right. Patrons
who support us at the $20 level and above get
thanked here. Every second story episode. Because
you're crazy. And we love you for it. This time
around, the members of Ghost Force... Oh, God.
This is killing me, Paul. And I took the allergy
pills. It is not helping. Take more. You'll be
hosting the show by yourself. I'll be asleep
at my keyboard. Best time around, the members
of Ghost Force are... Jenny Bunanenny. Jenny
Bunanenny. Jason R. Slaughter. Slaughter, Slaughter,
Slaughter, Slaughter. Jennifer Mullen. Joseph
Camero. Kissin' Kate Barlow. Liam Hudduck. Mara
Noriega. Mark Sammler. Megan Rocket. Merlin Hanson.
Peter Gunn, 08 .5. Robin Teen. For real guys,
thank you so, so much for your generous support.
We cannot tell you how much we appreciate it.
And if you want to have your name read out in
that mad roll call, head to patreon .com slash
ghoststoryguys and sign up at the Ghost Force
level. You can also sign up to Ghost Force via
YouTube. Paul, my friend, any guest spots coming
up? I will have one at the end of May. Okay.
And that is all I can say. Keep an eye out for
that. As for me, I was just a guest on an episode
of Hometown Ghost Stories. They did a live stream
on the ghost town of Two Guns, Arizona. So I
had a lot of fun with those fellas. And you can
find that on their YouTube channel. It's a video
show. They tell you, man, they have a hell of
a production over there. I was very impressed.
I really kind of drove home that I have no interest
in becoming a YouTube show because that's a lot
of fucking work. Yes, there's many a cog turning
there. Holy man. They managed to make it look
easy, but I know it's not. That's skill. Indeed.
As always, you can find all of our appearances
linked in the blog at GhostStoryGuys .com. And
speaking of GhostStoryGuys .com, head there if
you want some Ghost Story Guys merch. We have
lots of cool stuff. We've got stickers, t -shirts,
all manner of goodies. And again, that's all
at GhostStoryGuys .com. Our theme song, Radio,
Into the Darkness We Go, is composed and performed
by Peter Kurosawa of Bizanta Music. Find more
from him by searching for Bizanta Music wherever
you get your tunes. As always, that is streaming
courtesy of Night Harvest Recordings, the Ghost
Story Guys house label. And I think that's going
to do it. We'll be back next week. But until
then... I'm going to sneeze for a while. Then
into the darkness we go. Good for you. Oh, no,
I have no doubt. Although I would argue that
you maybe can't hate something without knowing
much about it. I would say that is a rare quality.
Sorry, one of the cats just threw themselves
at the door. What the fuck? Outside to get in,
bastards. So, yeah, since we've had the room
done, the door doesn't shut properly. And so
the cats have decided it's a really good game
now just to push it open and fuck off. Well,
I've noticed we've had a lot more internet problems
since you moved back in there too. I don't know
why, because I'm closer to the signal. Oh, weird.
I was going to say, like, I'll send you a range
extender, but no, okay. Yeah, I think we're,
I don't know what's going on. You pissed something
off is what you did. Hey, I'm not the one who
upsets the fail all the time. That's true. That's
true. I'm just going to take that right from
the top. Oh, that's all coming up. I learned
some stuff today. That's one for family viewers.
Yep. Well, like I said, that's all coming out
of the show anyways. Some of it will survive
in outtake form, but not most of it. Yeah, it
does get quite tiring, I have to say. Yes, I've
also had lots of experience with, anyways. Chill
out. Yep, I know that from experience. Yikes.
Obviously, that's not staying in the show, but
boy, that hurt. Thank you.