mhm 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. I am recording this on the first day of the girls spring break. So I'm just going to warn you at the jump that this sound quality might not be great. There might be some background noise. But anyway, we have been all over the place lately, haven't we?
It's a little familiar like old old times. Only now we have the gift of hindsight and we know that all that random is never really random. I have the sneaking suspicion that we're getting close to that part in the movie when someone rips out a map and draws little dots on the locations of disturbing incidents, connects them and discovers the epicenter. Well, unfortunately today's story provides another dot and I cannot stress this enough. We can't move again. We really can't.
But that's a me problem I guess so. Be sure to stay tuned after the story for some merch stuff and listening, reading and watching recommendations for now. Rhonda Ghost Story # 64 earplugs. Mm hmm. Mhm, mm hmm. I was in the basement recently folding laundry while the dogs tore into the girls toys and wreaked havoc. I happened to look down at one point and saw a small black box amid the mess. It took me a beat to recognize it.
I think I've mentioned that our current house was originally our neighbor's pool house. When we walked through the first time, there were only two chairs and a pool table on the first floor. It appeared that the house sat empty for most of the year. And so the mice moved in. Our exterminator claims he never encountered such an infestation, which perhaps we can take with a grain of salt but still yikes.
I felt bad about it, but they had to go, you know, I had a bout of veganism and couldn't keep it up. Now I'm a try hard vegetarian, unable to pass up cheese and eggs, but the word infants infestation just about did me in. So we put out poison and then at the year mark we put it out again back to the laundry in the basement and the small black box. It was one of those poison containers and it was open and it was empty. Sheer terror consumed me.
I picked it up and started to run upstairs, but then had to run back down because the puppy can't get himself up the stairs yet. So I had to carry him. Bernie and ivy happily followed. I called the vet and they told me to bring the dogs right in. The problem was that I didn't know which Dingbat had eaten the poison. I knew it wasn't ivy.
She would never, but the two youths, it could have been either or both of them involved in a deadly folly Ado as you can imagine, I flew into the vet's office like a bat out of hell. Bernie and Wallace were scooted off to the back room to be puked and monitored. While I waited for their prognosis, I explained to the receptionist what happened in front of two other dog owners awaiting their appointments? No doubt having to wait even longer now because I am an irresponsible dog owner.
One of the dog owners was rather shocked by my use of mouse poison. She explained that she uses the have a heart traps, and when she traps one, she carries it out to the woods to set it free. It was february at the time, and she had recently done just that. Not to judge judge her, but freezing the mouse to death. Doesn't seem more have a heartful than poisoning one. But then again, I damn near poison my dogs to death! So who am I to say?
Anyway, she got called into her appointment and then it was just me and the other woman whose dog was sitting on her lap shaking in fear! Poor thing! Truly! All of this is neither here nor there, but this whole poisoning kerfuffle led me to our next interviewee harper. She was there with linda, a shiatsu poodle mix, visiting the vet for tummy, trouble her bunny poop obsession, linda's, not harper's. The suspected culprit Harper was a friendly chatty woman by my estimate.
Somewhere between 50 and 60 years old, with gray flecked blond hair parted in the middle and worn in a low ponytail. I recognize the pronounced rosy hue and her cheeks. I struggle with that same red glow of rosacea. We discovered that we lived quite close to one another. She asked where the kids went to school hers. Three teenagers attended three different area, private schools, linda was the only dog in the family, but they had two cats blush and bashful.
A brilliant nod to steel magnolias and a bunny named hedgehog. She suggested that I bring the girls over to meet the bunny sometime. Do you work outside of the home? She asked, kind of, I'm a writer. I admitted wonderful. What do you write? My eyes slid to the reception desk. I was pretty sure I'd managed to fly under the radar there despite my dogs being such frequent fliers, it truly does not matter. But I didn't really want to mix my dog life with my blog life. Dog life is so pure and lovely.
I mean not when they nearly poison themselves to death, but on most days I find them such a wonderful little escape from reality. Where's the blog was a different kind of escape one from the monotony of parenting and laundry and bills and silly tasks like power washing the patio and refilling the bird feeders, but it's not pure not like the dogs and their vet trips, which in my mind, I label his visits with their personal physicians.
I haven't formulated a non awkward, non self conscious, non self effacing response to the what do you write question. I usually say ghost stories to which most people reply oh for Children to which I then have to fumble my way through an explanation to harper. I said I interview people in Wellesley about their haunted houses, trying my best to be straightforward about it. Whoa! She breathed, shifting linda off her lap and sliding down the bench towards me. I froze a little bit unsure.
Hold on, you believe in all that stuff. I do, I replied simply. Me too. She exclaimed, we have to go on a walk in our neighborhood. I have to show you something. You will just die. She pulled out her phone. What is your phone number? I hesitated, don't worry, I'm not crazy. She looked at the front desk for confirmation jenny tell her I'm normal, she's fine. The receptionist laughed, I gave her my number and right after she typed it in she said okay there.
I texted you so now you have my number, can you walk tomorrow morning? Um I began but was saved by one of the vets calling linda and her appointment. Well text linda said standing up, good luck with the poisoning. She squeezed my arm and dragged linda into the exam room. Well turns out it was Bernie, my sweet dumb little Bernard doodle. Poor Wallace paid for Bernie's bad decisions and had to take the doggie. Ipi CAc two but only Bernie's puke was the telltale poisonous neon green.
He's fine and all's well, that ends well. But it sure was quite the scare. I seem to be having a difficult time staying out of trouble lately, but if everything truly happens for a reason, then it was the near poisoning of Bernie that led me to bear witness to harper's oddity. The next dot on the disturbing map of Wellesley.
Just two days later, I found myself on a walk listening as harper chatted away about the recent local vote, the drama of an upcoming elementary school renovation, The Starbucks that had closed during Covid and was now open again, which currently lacks seating though she'd heard through the grapevine that they were ordering new tables, but who really knew what was going on there? I mean, what did they do with the old tables? We were on a trail. I knew pretty well.
I usually hopped onto this particular path, the connecting path behind our house, but we met in front of Harper's place and wound our way down Livingstone to take a more public entrance to the trail. Thankfully it was not yet buggy that would come with the heat in a month or so, but it was muddy. I was pleased to find that Harper was a stroller, not a power walker, so I was able to keep up and occasionally contribute to her running commentary easily.
We just climbed across the stretch of carefully placed blogs in a particularly marshy area. When harper veered off the footpath into the newly budding brush ticks? I yelled without thinking. Oh, I'll check when I get home, she replied dismissively. It's over here. Come on! I hesitated, glancing up and down the trail as if someone would come along and rescue me offering. And ah, ladies out of the woods, you know that's not allowed, but no one came.
So I bent over and pulled my socks up over my leggings as far as they would go and attempt to cover as much skin as possible. Over here, harbored, made it quite far into the underbrush, heavy woods. I trudged through the muck, wincing as thorns poked through my thin pants and made my way towards her. She was bent down tossing handfuls of pine needles, muddy sticks, oak leaves, and other mock aside. Oh, harper gross your hands, I said, Presley, It's right here. I just have to.
She trailed off too busy to finish the sentence. I watched as she uncovered a formation of stones, ipad sized, flat, rectangular black stones, she kicked aside more debris to reveal it. Well, the formation don't hold me to this because, you know, numbers, measurements and such are my thing, but I can gauge a four by six rug, right, and that's about how big this thing was.
Give or take created by neat lines of those flat black rocks, harper stood with her dirty hands on her hips, staring at me triumphantly. How the hell did you find this? I asked, staring around us at the wild forest. Confusion crossed her face only momentarily before she held out a hand. Come here! This isn't all. She stepped forward into the center of the formation. I stared at her mud streaked hand and shook my head, laughing nervously. Her arm dropped to her side. Oh, just come here!
She said impatiently. I sighed and took a tentative step onto the shining, wet rocks, worried I might slip, but my feet held firm beneath me. I looked at harper at the other end of the strange little patio. She was smiling at me, a big, bright smile. She put her hands up, first, gesturing to the rocks beneath our feet, and then swinging them out to the woods all around us. Well, I let out a little laugh, smiling despite myself. Cool! I just. I mean, how did you find them? She shook her head. No!
Listen to what! Shh! She insisted. I pursed my lips and quieted down, humoring her at first, and then I heard it. Nothing. Silence. Not a bird, not a far off rumble of a truck's engine, not the wind through the trees or the wine of the ever present landscapers! Leaf blower! Silence, harper! I began, but she shushed me again. Have you ever experienced anything like it? I looked around us, branches move just as they should in the breeze.
A breeze that I could feel on the back of my neck I could see the movement of the forest around us. But I couldn't hear it. This isn't good, I whispered, carefully stepping backwards onto solid ground. What are you talking about, harper replied, It's amazing. Can you hear me? I asked. She shook her head in frustration, and stepped off the rocks. You're the first person I brought out here? She said, happily. Really? I can never get my kids to go on a walk with me and my husband hates nature.
I play tennis with my friends. We don't walk together. So that's why it was so weird that we met at the vet's office. It's like fate that I would out of the blue run into a neighbor who's interested in weird stuff. Synchronicity, I replied quietly. Side note, funny thing about me in recent years, loud noises have become a trigger for my anxiety. I don't mean like sirens or booms or whatever. Not like that.
I mean like constant background noise or loud voices like for example, my Children's or chris's, I've begun wearing earplugs at night while I'm making dinner. I can hear everyone just fine with them in. It just takes the edge off dramatic. Absolutely. But it's kinder and less dramatic than me saying, can you please lower your goddamn voice every five minutes. Hmm. And I wound up tighter than a fucking top you bet.
But I shared this embarrassing melodrama to highlight just how sensitive my ears can be. So, when I stepped into the little piece of absolute silence, you'd think that it would be a dream come true? It wasn't, turns out the absence of noise is just as disturbing as a blaring fire alarm. Isn't it peaceful, harper asked excitedly. No, I whispered, taking another step back. Oh, go back in, stand there for a few minutes. I sit down and harper, I held up my hand.
Please tell me how you discovered this thing. If you just take your time with it. I know it's strange at first. It's not like anything is ever quiet anymore. There's always some noise in the background, but this she gestured again to the stone formation. It's magical, magical, I repeated. Right, But it's not right. Who knows what it's doing to you. It feels so neutral. I don't see what the problem is. She insisted the rocks, the silence, whatever the hell it was, felt anything but neutral.
It felt wrong. I said as much to harper insisted that she shouldn't return to the rocks alone. Under any circumstances. She didn't hide her annoyance well, but she agreed that she'd stay away from them until I could try to do some research. I'll keep off them, she said, touching the edge of one of the stones with the toe of her sneaker? I didn't believe her. Do you not want to tell me how you discovered them? I asked bluntly. No, no. To tell the truth. I don't really know how I found them.
I mean I know how I did, but it doesn't make sense. Something caught my eye behind harper movement there was a huge, wide trunked oak tree. This part of the woods was full of them. I could swear I saw an arm, a thin gray arm slide out of sight behind the tree as though someone had been holding onto the tree hiding behind it and slipped just out of sight. We should go! I whispered. Now harper turned to look behind her, then followed me through the underbrush back to the path.
Without another word. We took the trail along the lake and cut up through the woods towards my own backyard? On the way harper explained that she'd found the stones by accident. She was on a walk, like any other walk and something. A feeling, An intense interest called to her from that place in the woods. The closer she got to the stones, the more certain she became that there was something there in the earth no on the earth.
Only a few of the stones have been visible through all of the leaves and such. She brushed all aside until she discovered the rectangular formation, and as she was studying them she realized that the surrounding forest had gone silent. Is it just the quiet? I asked, have you ever experienced anything else on or around those stones? Hmm. It's weird! I don't know if it's anything what I pressed. We were steps from the back gate to our yard.
I was nervous and itchy and convinced that I had contracted the lyme and worried that our proximity to these strange stones might have zapped our brains. Look, I literally make it to the end of each day by the skin of my teeth, juggling family life maxes out my brain capacity. The schedules, the PTO commitments, the goddamn emails, the random appointments, and all the responsibilities. Bills, chores writing, trying hard not to poison the dogs again.
It brings me to the very limit of my brain power. I can't risk losing even a trace of it. What if the stones were radioactive or something? No, that's dumb. See what I mean. I can barely think straight. I simply cannot afford to be brain zapped by quiet stones! I realized harper was talking. I struggled to listen, despite my anxiety spiral. I just, Well, at the time, it's like I lose track of the time when I'm at the stones, she said. That's weird. Right!
I halted dead in my tracks, and reluctantly lifted my wrist to check the time The Fitbit Read 1135. We'd left Harper's house at 10. I'd walk these paths a lot. I was familiar with the roots, and I knew how long it took to get around. If we continued on back to Harper's. The full loop should have taken us. Even with the pit stop at the stones, 40 45 minutes tops From where we stood. We had a 15 minute walk back to Harper's house. Lost time! I breathed. We lost an hour.
See what I mean, harper trilled. I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket to confirm the time, and to make sure I hadn't missed any important calls or texts from the school. Not that that ever happens, but it's just another anxiety I carry constantly. There were no miss calls or urgent text, but the time was correct. This isn't good, I muttered. It was a massive understatement. Well, it's not like anything that has happened. It's just a quirky, weird thing. Right?
You have a whole blog about haunted houses in this town. Right, This is like that. Have you read any of my posts? No, sorry, I haven't had the chance. A twig snapped in the scraggly brush beside us. We should get going. We weren't far from my backyard. I suggested we cut through that. It would shorten her walk home if she used our driveway as a shortcut, harper hesitated. No, I think I'll get my steps in. I'm aiming for 15,000.
We said goodbye, and I watched her continue on, knowing that she would double back and return to the stones once inside my house, doors locked. Dogs fed their lunch. Yes, they have Hoodwinked me into serving them a light lunch every damn day, and curtains at the back of the house drawn tight. I called Betty, I got to see this, she said after I relayed the morning's events, We lost an hour, an hour. I can be there in 15 minutes. What time do you have to get the kids?
I told her we could lose a couple of hours and you'd still be fine, she replied dismissively. I'll be right over. I had no trouble finding the spot. I'd half expected to see harper there, but the woods were empty. I was only on it for a couple of seconds. I warned Betty, go quick. Keep an eye on your watch while I'm on them, she suggested, see if you can witness the actual time shift. It was a good idea.
And I tried to do it, but the second that he stepped onto the smooth Blackstone's, the feeling that we weren't alone became impossible to ignore. I couldn't help but sneak a glance around us. We appeared to be alone, but I knew we weren't. A moment later. Betty stepped back off the stones. Crazy. It just goes absolutely silent. I feel like we're being watched. I told her she glanced around. What time is it? I grimaced guiltily. You had one job, she muttered, only half kidding. My watch.
Read 1:30 and our bet, he said incredulous. This is wild. Let's just get out of here, I pleaded. So what do you think? She asked. Once we were back on the trail and well on our way back to my house. You know what I think. What do you think If you're going to stay in this neighborhood, we better get you a good strong tinfoil hat. A woman approached ahead. I clocked her outfit despite the cool overcast day. She wore a black tank top, mid length jean skirt, and green hunter boots.
A key chain tinkled at her side As she walked, we exchanged pleasantries as we passed one another and I noted. The woman's blue eyes held mine a beat too long as if she recognized me. We were only a few steps past when it dawned on me who she was. Oh no! I breathed. Do you know that woman asked? Betty? I don't know her personally, but I'm pretty sure I know who she is.
I didn't have service on the trail so I had to wait until we got back to the house to text chris do you still play hockey with Mitchell? Wescott? Just on sunday night. What's up? I let the phone dropped in my lap and zoned out for a moment, wondering what seeing that woman near those stones could mean. I looked back at my phone. A text bubble had appeared holding two question marks. Do you have his phone number? I need to ask him a question Mitchell's contact information came through shortly.
I sent him a long time. No, See how's your family? Blah blah blah. And ended the message asking if he ever ran into his old neighbors. Thank God no, he responded. In fact, we moved to Dover. Lord only knows what those nut balls are up to nowadays. Why are they stirring up trouble? Maybe I replied, I'll keep you posted. I was worried scared actually, because I just passed kate billfish, the devil worshiping witch who cursed Mitchell and his family in the woods on the trail behind my house.
What in the fuck was going on? Thanks. Mhm hmm. If you can't recall or haven't yet heard Mitchell saga with kate Elvish, Go back and check out episode 20 in which there are witches for that little slice of next door neighbor. Hell to understand why I'm chilled at the thought of her being anywhere near my home. And as you all know, I've made a commitment to keep our space ad free. But if you're interested in doing something priceless to help the show, please tell a spooky friend about it. Right?
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Check out the merch tab on ghosts in the burbs dot com for details and always remember that if my donating to this organization or any of the other charities I list on my website for that matter, triggers you, then don't buy my merch, do whatever your little heart desires, but trust when I say that, I don't want to hear a goddamn thing about it, that's all for now. Take care of you.
Take a break from social media, read the Death of jane Lawrence by Caitlin, starling and practical demon keeping by Christopher moore. Listen to true crime obsessed podcast and binge watch the ghost town terror on discovery. Plus they're really fun. Good night, Sleep tight and don't forget your nightlight.