I'm Liz Sauer and this is ghosts in the burbs. A podcast of ghost stories from Wellesley massachusetts, a warning. Adults who use adult language told me these frightening tales. These ghost stories aren't for kids. Okay, okay, this is my length fifth attempt to try to get this out sentence, But unbelievably March 28 marked this podcast, 6th anniversary and I am so happy to be back here with you, to gossip about the neighbor's tongue tied.
I've been away too long because honestly, writing a book is much harder than I anticipated. I'm used to shoving a story together and putting it out into the world warts and all. But it turns out that's not the generally accepted way of doing things. Ends must be tied up. Characters must have motivations or neurosis. Rather motivating them. Events must proceed logically. I'm working on it. I kept myself from interviewing my neighbors in an effort to buckle down and fix the damn book. Cut to me.
Mainlining nutella and anxiously watching the Nostradamus End of days series on discovery plus over and over. So, for my own mental health, I'm taking a break from this self imposed break. I just want to sit and snack and sip coffee and listen to someone tell me a spooky story, it's my greatest joy. And if we are indeed closer than ever to apocalyptic world ending events, then I want to spend this time doing what I love most. So here we go.
Stay tuned if you'd like after the story from some additional blah blah blah. Plus reading watching and listening recommendations. All right, We're on a Ghost Story # 63. Just kidding. Mhm. I can't remember if I told you guys about the Skeleton Woman Ghost I saw when I was little. I know I told someone on a podcast. I don't know if it was my podcast or someone else's and this definitely speaks to the fact that we've been having this spooky discussion for six years because things are fuzzy.
But anyway, it feels relevant right now. So I'm going to risk repeating myself. I think it was probably about 10 or 11 and one night I watched this spooky kind of anthology type show way back then we didn't have the access to all the gloriously spooky content that spooky minded kids do nowadays. It was 1989 ISH. We had the dewey decimal zero section in the library, scary stories to tell in the dark or adult horror, like Nightmare on Elm Street and Stephen King books.
There really wasn't anything in between anyhow. I don't know what I watched that night. I've searched and searched and cannot figure out what kind of show would tell a short series of unconnected scary tales on like network television. It could have been an unsolved mysteries episode, but I don't think so. Anyhow. I watched the show and went upstairs to get ready for bed. My older sister hadn't watched with me because she had homework to do or something.
So I poked my head into her bedroom and she asked how the show was, I said it was okay and kind of shrugged it off. I tell you all of this through the fog of memory, a terrible memory of that. But this is how it's always played out in my mind. Anyway, I went next door to my bedroom. My lamp wasn't connected to the light switch, so I had to cross the room to turn on the light. It was a big bedroom.
My oldest sister was away at college, so I had moved into her bedroom, the largest of the three designated for me and my siblings. So I had kind of a far walk across to the lamp around my bed and across the room. I don't know, it was a stupid setup. I was spooked. I was about halfway across the room when I heard something behind me and I turned around and I saw a woman in a long white flowing dress with her arms raised above her head, sort of gliding towards me menacingly, Her face was skeletal.
I started screaming and screaming. And then the next thing I knew I saw my sister in the doorway. In my memory I see my sister through the skeleton woman. She was transparent and then the woman disappeared and there was my sister saying, Liz it's me it's just me and I was trying to tell her what had happened, but I couldn't because I couldn't stop screaming. So she dragged me out into the hallway and by that time my parents had made it upstairs.
Having heard me screaming, my mother later admitted that my screams were so awful. She thought I'd found my sister dead. My dad took me by the shoulders and gave me a little shake and I was able to stop. So we all agreed that I'd watched a scary television show and then I just heard my sister in the hallway and then hallucinated because the television show was scary. Yeah, but my sister insists that she didn't get up and come out into the hall until she heard me screaming.
So anyway, the incident turned into nothing more than a family anecdote. It was traumatic and I think pretty significant. I think before that night I saw things and heard things and new things. I mean, I had an entire crew of imaginary friends when I was little.
I just have this feeling that that skeleton woman wasn't a hallucination, I think I could do then what I do now and then that spirit or demon or whatever the hell it was, found me and scared the hell out of me and my brain decided that was enough and it threw up some very, very strong walls so that nothing could get through again until I moved to Wellesley and you all know the story from there. First I started hearing people who weren't there.
Then I began sort of knowing things that I shouldn't and then finally I began to see ghosts. Until recently it started maybe about a month and a half ago. Things got quiet blissfully. So things have been so hectic that it didn't occur to me to question it at first, but I kept noticing my ears ringing and that's sort of what clued me into how quiet everything was over time. I have learned to put up some guards for myself so that I'm not so incredibly wide open.
But I haven't been doing that when I realized I hadn't seen or heard from Claire in over a week, I knew something was up. So I forced myself to sit quietly and open up immediately I heard listen to me. My eyes snapped open. Whoever had spoken was obviously very upset and I expected to see an angry spirit standing in front of me, but no one was there. It wasn't a voice that I recognized.
It may sound strange given everything I've experienced in the past few years, but it was more frightening that I didn't see anything. I forced myself to close my eyes again and attempted to open up to the other side or wherever the hell these spirits reside. Nothing happened. That's not true. I heard a loud ringing in my right ear like loud, but that was it. So I carried on with my day, now very aware of how empty my world felt without all the usual spirit interruptions.
I could truly focus on conversations with friends at school pickup. I could zone out while I waited toward her coffee and a scone at cabrera. I could scroll Tiktok without picking up on the emotions of the person who's video I watched. I made the mistake of telling Betty and got her opinion. You're a stress case. Thanks. Her theory was that I had reached some sort of mystical critical level and my subconscious slammed on the brakes and through the walls back up.
She had a point, I've been on edge for a while now, but haven't we all? I'm doing my best to manage my anxiety, but I struggled to do that before everything went wonky the world over. So yeah, I can absolutely say that my anxiety has been wearing me down for the past few months. But what's weird is that the ghosts don't give me anxiety anymore. It has its creepy moments of course, but I've come to think of them as company and I really felt their absence. They didn't add to my stress.
I explained this to Betty. Well, once you get your anxiety under control, I'm sure things will go back to normal. Unless unless what? Unless you're being shielded. But he said slowly from what have you talked to Judith she asked, ignoring my question, I shook my head. Betty gave me an an annoyingly knowing look. Okay, so we're on the same page then anyhow.
It's too late to make this long story short, but basically I'm not hearing or seeing ghosts at the moment, Not even claire and frankly, I don't have the bandwidth to dig too deeply to find the reason why, because as I'm sure you've gathered from the past couple interviews here, it's quite possible that something big is coming and frankly, I don't think I want a warning or insight about it. I'm kind of happy to spend the lead up to whatever the hell is coming in.
Blissful ignorance for as long as they let me. But that doesn't mean I don't want to hear someone else's spooky story. The cat's been out of the bag for a while here in town. I'm the woman who writes ghost stories but it's still an awkward moment when a stranger puts two and two together and spots me out in the wilds of Wellesley. That's just what happened with Dana.
I was in Starbucks, Of course I'd ordered my drink and a set of those little egg bite things and was unloading my laptop onto the table when a woman approached me, I thought she was going to ask he was a chair across from mine, but no, excuse me, she said I'm sorry to bother you, but I was behind you in line and I just I gazed up at her, My face frozen into what I hoped was a pleasant expression because I wasn't sure what she was going to say next.
Had I cut her in line, Forgotten to pay, done something unintentionally rude. Your list. Right. I nodded. Shit. I panicked. Is she a parent at the girls school? I racked my brain trying to make a connection, gorgeous. Long dark brown hair, pretty dark brown eyes. Athleisure, Chloe bag. Fuck my facial blindness. I seriously didn't recall ever speaking to her, but that didn't mean a damn thing. I'm sorry. She apologized again. I don't want to bother you. You look busy, but I've read your stories.
Oh thank God, I wasn't supposed to know her. Oh, I laughed. Do you live in town? We're on Cottage Street near Dana Hall. Oh sure. Yeah. Great neighborhood. Your stories are unbelievable. I mean, they're scary totally. I know, sorry, I replied awkwardly. My social anxiety beginning to rev up. It's so weird. I've been thinking about you a lot lately. Oh, I managed my discomfort rising. She dropped into the seat across from me. Something really strange is happening in my house.
It's not like all that interesting, I guess. But I took my laptop off the table and slid it back into my bag. Tell me what's going on? Are you sure? I don't wanna interrupt your work? Yeah, no, I'm happy to be interrupted. So what's up? Wait, what's your name? Oh sorry, dana dana chandra, can I record your story? I asked. Sure. Oh my God. So would it be on the blog? Yeah, if you're okay with that? She laughed. Oh my God. Yes. Sure. I didn't have the little digital recorder with me.
So I set up my phone between us. Well what's going on? Okay. Yeah. Sorry. This is weird to just talk about. I should explain what was happening in our neighborhood before. The problem in our house for it to make sense. The two situations probably aren't connected, but it was weird. So okay, there were break ins on our street. This past fall. Five of my neighbors were broken into. But what was so strange was that whoever was doing it didn't take anything. What did they do? They moved things.
My next door neighbor came home one night to her patio furniture in her basement. Strange. Yeah. Another neighbor found out her daughter's clothing taken out of her drawers and neatly folded on her son's bed. There's another guy who's bird feeders were dumped out all over his driveway and hung back up cheers. Did anything like that happen to you? Oh yeah. I turned on my shower one morning and got a face full of water.
The shower head had been turned to face out so it would soak whoever turned it on. I couldn't help but let out a laugh. That's the oldest trick in the book. My sisters and I used to do that to each other. Really? It was the first time I'd ever heard of such a thing. My kids are too little to do anything like that. It wasn't a trick. Do you have a partner? I asked. She smirked. Anson would never intentionally create a mess. No. Someone came into our house and did that.
So that's how everything began. Wait, No, When we all got together to share stories, some of my neighbors realized that things have been happening for a little while. Little annoying things that they had written off for blamed on, you know, neighborhood kids. Like what? Um, let me think the net was cut off someone's basketball hoop in their driveway. A mailbox filled with mud, stuff like that. That's annoying. I said. So it started kind of small and then escalated right.
The police patrolled the neighborhood and suggested that we all keep the doors locked. Turn on our security systems. If we had them and install cameras, they assured us that whoever was doing it would eventually get caught if we remain vigilant. Mm hmm. So did they catch the person? Oh yeah. It turned out to be a guy. Two doors down from us. The crazy thing was at the neighborhood meeting.
He complained the loudest about what a violation it was to have someone breaking in and playing these nasty tricks. He even ranted and raved about the police. He seemed more upset about it than anyone else. It's always the ones yelling the loudest I commented. That is so true. I only knew him well enough to wave to when we passed each other on the street and we chatted with him at the summer block party. He seemed so normal. Maybe a little tightly wound.
But who isn't, it's just so scary to think about how little we know people, How did he get caught? I asked a ring camera. The family across the street from us was away for the weekend and he got into their house to the back patio door, he put the stopper in the kitchen sink and left the water running. The scariest thing was that he knew their code to turn off their security system. The ring app alerted the family that there was a motion sensed at their back door and they called the police.
The water didn't cause too much damage because they got there quickly. Wait. He knew their security code. Yes. They have no idea how he got it. But apparently it was an easily guessable number. Even still I insisted that is terrifying. I agree. She made the noise of disbelief. You know after he broke into their house he just went back home, cut through the backyard so no one would see him and was watching television when the police went to arrest him.
So you just broke into that house, disabled the alarm system, turned on the sink to flood the place and left the wet bandit. I said, dana gave me a confused look home alone. I offered never mind. The guy sounds a little disturbed. Yeah, scary disturbed. His poor wife was completely humiliated by the whole thing. Apparently. She had absolutely no idea that he was the one responsible for the break ins.
Even their own home had been broken into or so she thought but it had been her husband who slashed all. They're throw pillows. What in the hell was he thinking? He never told anyone why he did it. I heard all he would say about it was that no one could take a joke anymore. How in the world have I not heard about this? They're very wealthy and everyone in the neighborhood just wanted to put it in the past, she explained. But it would have at least made it to the police blotter.
I pressed they have a lot of money, dana repeated with a smile man, I breathed. That's really freaky. What would he have gotten into if he kept going? Yeah, who knows what he would have done next dana agreed. The police took three full gasoline containers out of the attic above his garage, jesus. I believe he's in some sort of mental institution out west. No jail time money dana reiterated, wow. Crazy. Crazy story.
Thank you I guess for sharing this with me but now I'm going to be forever suspicious of my neighbors. I laughed. Right. But wait no that's not really the story. Sorry. There's more. Oh right. You said that was the before. What's going on now. I don't know if there's any connection. I mean of course there isn't, but it is strange to have to unsettling things happen in our home. So they are tied together in my mind. But I guess it's sort of similar. At least it started out that way.
What's been going on? Well, it started with more of the same like finding things where they shouldn't be. But I could rationalize it, you know, explain it away. Okay. But what made you suspect something else was going on? The voices. Oh, okay. Right. It's whispering as though there's someone in the next room but by the time you go to check they've left. Is it just chattering or have you actually heard what they're saying? I haven't but Anson has.
And I pressed, she closed her eyes and took in a breath before responding. Kill them. Oh no, he's changed, dana confessed and for the first time she appeared more fearful than nervous. In what way I asked, He's angry all the time. It's the end of the world if the sink has just one utensil in it. He snaps at the kids from making the tiniest noise. He stopped going in the office. So he's home all the time and it's just, it's claustrophobic.
He works in our guest room now and keeps the door open like he's trying to catch us interrupting him. We can't get out of his way even if we try. Hmm started to suggest this, but could he have lost his job and just hasn't told you yet? She shook her head. I thought the same thing actually. She lowered her voice. I made up an excuse to call a woman who he works with. He still has his job. Okay, so you think he's being influenced by whatever is moving things and whispering in your house?
Yes. Hmm. Is there anything that's happened? I mean besides those break ins that might make this activity startup. Did you buy antique furniture or anything secondhand or did you do renovations? Play with a Ouija board, anything like that, dana considered the question. I haven't brought anything in new, but I did drag out some old junk. There was a bunch of stuff in our attic just sitting there collecting dust since we moved in five years ago. The house is so old.
The attic was dumping ground for all the families that lived there over the years. How old is the house? I asked. Um it was built in 1847. So actually this year, it's 175 years old. Good grief. I laughed. I wonder if taking out that old stuff agitated. A spirit that had been living creeping around happily before then. But I hesitated. That little kill them comment is scary. Have you done any research into the history of the house?
Do you know if there are any accidents or deaths on the property, dana shook her head. Well, that might be a good place to start. You can do several things to cleanse the house. Are you religious or spiritual at all, Dana said they weren't. Is that bad? God, no, I replied. It's just that if you had a belief system, then you could look to it for a ritualistic cleansing practice. But since you aren't tied to anything good old fashioned salt should do the trick.
Put a glass of it in each room, open the windows, claim the space is your own. Take the glasses out after three days and rinse them down the drain. Visualizing all the negative energy getting rinsed away with the salt. That's simple enough, said Dana, brightening totally. I agreed. But your husband needs help to. Would he ever consider going to a reiki healer? No, no way! She paused, her worried expression returning.
In all honesty, The reason I've been thinking about you lately, I mean, I totally don't want to overstep. But what you consider maybe coming to my house and talking to the ghost and asking them to just tell me what they want and I'll help if I can. But either way, I just need them to leave if I'd known it was coming. I had to admit that she had a better chance talking to these ghosts than I did. I'm so sorry, I began. Oh my God, don't apologize. No, it was super presumptuous of me to even ask.
No, no, I interrupted. I would love to help you like that if I could. It's just I don't know how to explain this, but I can't hear or see ghosts right now. Wait, what dana demanded, startled. I attempted to explain, but dana stood before I could. She pushed back her chair roughly. I feel so stupid. It's all fake. You're a writer, for goodness sake. I don't know what I was thinking, dana. Wait! I insisted, but she'd already turned away abruptly.
She spun back around, pointing to my phone and said, don't you dare publish that, Okay, I replied weakly. Actually, you know what, publish it? Put it out there and try to explain yourself, explain to your readers that you've been lying this whole damn time. Then she left for good people, waiting for their drinks were giving me the side eye. I slumped down into my seat, wishing I could shrink down to nothing and pop out of existence.
I reached down for my bag and began to get up, wanting nothing more than to just get the hell out of there. But a loud ringing in both ears overtook me, and I had to sit back down. It lasted only maybe 10/15. I took a minute to gather my wits, then muttered, Goddammit, Clare, blowing out my ear drums. Doesn't really help the situation now, does it? Somehow? I knew it was her. Somehow.
I knew she was right there, stuck behind a wall, most likely of my own creation, and I knew she was desperate to communicate with me, I also suspected that I really didn't want to know what she had to say.
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Read the year of Witching by Alexis Henderson and or severance by ling ma binge watch the Dead Files and Ghost Brothers and if you dare take a peek at the Nostradamus end of Days series on Discovery Plus Oh and I've been binging um scaredy Cats podcast. Give them a try. I'm really enjoying them. All right, Good night. Sleep tight. And don't forget your nightlight. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Mhm.