before we get started. It's one of those nights, it's about 8 30. I'm recording ivy snoring. One of the dogs has a bone. Here's a little taste of what was going on in between recordings because of the gremlins or the ghost. It's not a ghost. Goddammit. So I apologize. But as has always been the case with this podcast done is better than perfect. Sorry, grab a roadie and your barber jacket because we're headed out of the swells. We know each other well enough by now.
But please remember that adults who use adult language told me these terrifying tales. These ghost stories aren't for kids. Well I'm turning in my paper late again. I have no excuse. There are reasons with 67 ghost stories and 10 out of the Swell spooks under my belt. These interviews don't come as easily as they used to. So when they do come, I'm quite relieved. This one was a toughie, but I'm putting it out warts and all. My primary goal is, and always has been to distract you.
But I'm also here to distract myself. So let's head out of town, hop skip and a jump out of the swells and get caught up in someone else's problems bundle up because we're headed out to the woods. We're on two out of the swells, number 11, The homestead, I met Betsy Gunner at a book club I had recently joined and promptly dropped out of at the top of the meeting. We were forced to go around the circle and introduce ourselves and I was as vague as I could be.
But when pressed, I admitted to writing a blog and then when pressed further, I confessed that it was a collection of interviews about hauntings in Wellesley a blog for Children. One woman asked skeptically, Oh no, definitely not for kids. There were polite smiles and the conversation we've done thank goodness. And the meeting carried on with lukewarm coffee and pretentious discussion about a contemporary whodunit in which the heroine discovers the worst about her husband.
The book wasn't really my cup of tea because dramatized real life trouble gives me bad dreams. You know, I watched one episode of Grey's Anatomy one I couldn't even make it past the 1st 15 minutes and the scenes I saw still haunt me years later, oddly enough, I just read a story about a cannibalistic family in the woods of Northern Maine who terrorize a group of unsuspecting vacationers and yet I've been sleeping like a baby shrugs and trauma response. Moving on.
If you haven't noticed this yet, I am very, very anxious and rather awkward when I'm out in the world. I work really hard to tune out the nervous static in my mind so I can be somewhat present with the people around me. It never seems to get easier even with people that I know very well. In fact it's rather exhausting, but it is what it is. So attending, that meeting was enough to drain the ever loving shit out of me for the rest of the week.
I thought I was done socializing for the day and had begun to spin out on my way to the car, wondering what in the world I was thinking of taking the time to not only read a book I didn't really care for very much, but go and discuss it with women who didn't seem to really care for each other very much.
When I was already stretched to my limits, I was in the expected, antsy, anxious state, beating myself up for everything I said, and did not say the typical backlash of being so flipping hyper vigilant when I'm with other people. I was in the parking lot amped up in that super self involved way that is generalized anxiety, doing my best to remind myself that no one there give a hot damn about me.
When I sent someone behind me, I looked over my shoulder to see a woman with a sharp pixie cut be lining my way. I forced a tight lipped smile and quick in my pace. I need to speak with you, she said in a raised voice, her tone stern, Sorry, I'm in a bit of a hurry. I've got to get the kids. I lied. She reminded me of a person from my past and that carried with it. The old feeling that I was in really big trouble and my best bet was to run.
It will only take a minute please instead of fight or flight. I froze and fond Sure, Sorry, how can I help you? Or the vlog woman? She thrust out our hand. It took me a moment to realize she wanted to shake. Are we supposed to do that anymore? I don't know. But I did, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. She said, I'm Bitsy gunner. It is pure luck that I went to that meeting. I'm only back in town for a week and I want to catch up with some old friends.
I'm wondering if I might pick your brain. I hate that saying. It is so graphic. I said, what were you hoping to talk about? This is going to be good. I heard Clara say excitedly. Woodland creatures, Bitsy replied firmly. Oh, um, I don't know that I know too much about. I believe the appropriate term for them is gremlins. Oh, have you had any experience with such beings? Not personally, but I did talk to a woman who lives over by babson who had a problem with them. I replied.
Thinking of Michele penna, the woman who had been stalked by a creep, then terrorized by gremlins text in brackets. See ghost story number 24 stalkers. Gremlins, chickens, perspective and a pudgy chocolate lab named moose and brackets. Really? I wonder if you might give me her contact information. Uh, sorry. She's dealt with a lot. I don't know if of course he cut me off again. Why don't I tell you what's happened and we'll go from there.
She pulled her cell phone out of a big bottega veneta tote. Is that how you pronounce that? I don't know. But they're all the rage around here and I made the mistake of looking them up online. It was a no for me. What is your phone number? She demanded. I gave it to her. We'll have coffee tomorrow. Works best for me. I'll text to confirm. Sure I agreed. She pulled her sunglasses back down over her eyes. I need to run. I'm meeting with a veterinarian to see if they can offer any guidance.
We'll head back up north on saturday and I don't want to go back empty handed. Sure I wasn't sure what else to say. I'll be in touch. She took a hard left and strode over to a jeep Wrangler. I was intrigued. Betsy and her husband jane's decided to go off grid last fall truly off grid or like California sober off grid. I asked over today's subpar coffee. They had pastries and chicken salad nailed, but the coffee, my comment got her to crack a smile truly and completely off grid.
James and I toyed with the idea for years and when a camp came on the market, we decided to go for it. May I ask why the property was a steal and we felt it had all the features we needed. No, I mean, why did you want to go live in the woods with no connection to all of this? I clarified, waving my hands around at the bustling, gorgeous cafe around us, Bitsy took a delicate sip of her $7 oat milk latte.
I don't want to jump to conclusions, but the way she presented herself did not scream homesteader. In fact, it didn't scream anything. They say that money screams, but wealth whispers. Betsey's clothing, whispered tailored elegance. Her Jamie lee, Curtis gray, pixie cut, whispered by weekly trims on Newbury Street. The antique gold charm bracelet on her wrist. Generational wealth. I read through your blog last night, she said finally. Okay, all of those things really happened here. I nodded.
If that's true, then it makes what's happening to us in the woods seem much more tolerable or at least somewhat acceptable as though we may be able to find a solution. I doubt that, muttered Claire. What's happening in the woods? I asked, ignoring the remark. She studied me for a long, uncomfortable moment. You dabble and prepping? I laughed. I have some things put aside just in case. Betsy raised an eyebrow, just in case. I nodded again. She leaned forward. Look around. You!
Just in case is here. I glanced around the cafe were on the brink of nuclear war. And if that doesn't get us then climate change will we've already had one pandemic. It won't be the last, she continued in a low voice, maybe we get lucky? And the worst of it stays far from home. But even if it does, do you think the grocery stores will stay full? Do you think you'll be able to pop over to Costco and stock up on snacks and juice boxes?
We might not get the direct hit, but in the end, the so called supply chain issues will be the death of a lot of people and when the gulf stream goes, everyone's fucked. I groaned, eyeing the pastry cabinet behind her. Thinking a good dose of sugar would soften the apocalyptic journey. I knew we were about to take bitsy straightened in her chair. You think I'm crazy? No, I think you're spot on and I truly hate when someone actually vocalize is my biggest fears.
It's why I'm using this sober october to detox from social media namely Tiktok, I get so sucked in by other doomsday preppers. They're just so compelling. But my husband will kill me if I order any more wood. So I don't know about Tiktok. Bitsy sniffed. The important question is whether or not you have a plan for your family? I shrugged. I think we'll just hunker down. I mean, where can we go? I've got three kids and three dogs.
Our best bet is to just stay put a tsunami can reach up to 15 miles inland. I blinked. Wellesley is 16 miles from shore. We aren't really prone to major earthquakes on this coast. I argued, Even though I knew from the aforementioned doomsday prepper Tiktok scrolling. That wasn't what she was talking about. Betsy raised an eyebrow. What about a strategic underwater strike by a nuclear warhead resulting in a 300-foot wave of water? I sighed.
Right, what are the chances, What are the chances of a worldwide pandemic? I held up my hands. My mental health isn't great right now, so I can only go so far down the rabbit hole with you. Okay? But I get your point. So you bought a camp in the woods up north with the intention of going off grid. Then what? Well, then we started the homestead. We hope the property would serve our family as a safe haven.
We brought up enough supplies to make it through the winter with a plan to get the garden going in the spring and grow everything we needed going forward. What about dentists? I interrupted. And doctors for that matter? Excuse me. Claire giggled. I mean, I always wonder when people go off grid do they still visit medical professionals regularly or only an emergency? I mean, you were really far from home. So did you find doctors up there James is a physician.
We stockpiled antibiotics and other medications we might need. But they expire. I pointed out he could write a new prescription. Betsy snipped. Would you go to a dentist? If you had a cavity? Of course I would. She snapped. We had a full work up before we left for camp. But yes, if something came up, of course we would seek medical attention. Sorry. I just haven't ever had the chance to talk to someone who actually tried to go all in.
I've talked to a pretty hardcore prepper, but no one that took off to the woods. It's pretty brave, bitsy side and reckless. Where's your camp? I'd rather not say that's understandable. So what went wrong? The thing that eats me up is that we thought we'd planned for every contingency. We did our homework. Our intention was complete self sufficiency and I just knew we would have achieved it if we'd chosen any other plot of land. We knew we didn't want to be too far from civilization.
Just far enough that when things fell apart, we'd be safely entrenched and self reliant. We wanted to create a place that our Children and grandchildren could withdraw to when the time came. How did you know how to do it? Did you grow up on a farm? Bitsy looked taken aback. No, I grew up in Weston. Have you watched the television program Homestead Rescue? I hadn't good. Don't, she said bitterly.
That damn show started us down the road to Perdition House that I asked, knowing full well, I've watched the show, the second I got home. She explained the premise of the program, an incredibly likable. Jack of all trades, old school, Alaskan homesteader and his two grown Children traveled the states helping other homesteaders who run into trouble. They make it look so straightforward.
Betsy complained as though with a well some solar power chickens and a good sized garden you can self sustain indefinitely. I knew we were in for hard, even backbreaking work, but I also knew it would be worth it. But if I hadn't gotten into that show, I may have researched other options Now. I wish I had looked further into bunkers, bunkers, old cold war bunkers. If I'd known then what I know now we would have sunk our money into fixing one up and stocking non perishables.
I was so wrapped up in pandemic and government collapsed fears that a homestead felt like the right course of action. Now I see nuclear war on the horizon with climate disaster not far behind it. And I just, she trailed off. I hear you. I felt like that when Covid began like I had backup food and batteries, but that's not what we needed. We needed masks and hand sanitizer apocalypse roulette, which nightmares coming next. Betsy agreed bitterly. Well, what's done is done.
We put all of our eggs in one basket and now we have to find a way to salvage things. That's where you come in. Oh yes. The land we chose was perfect, practically speaking. If it weren't for those creatures, I wouldn't be here with you right now. I'd be chopping firewood and prepping for winter. The gremlins. That's right. I've done a good bit of research and I believe they are the main culprit on the property. The haunting we can deal with.
But those little bastards attacking our animals and raiding our supplies. It's untenable. Hold on. There's a haunting too. Hell yes, there is. Claire chimed in. She's been silent up to this point and her voice startled me. Yes, but that's just a nuisance, Betsy said dismissively. No, it's not. Claire sing songs. You don't think the two things are connected? I suggested I can't see how that could be possible. But I can said Claire.
Sometimes paranormal activity presents in weird interwoven ways that don't make a lot of sense. I said, what if you just told me everything that's happened and will rule out what we can. Bitsy pursed her lips. Is there a ghost talking to you right now? I squirmed under her accusatory gaze. Yes. Can she just cut to the chase and tell me what to do. Tell her she can't ever go back to that property. That if she does, she'll die there and so will her husband? I winced. Well, Betsy pressed.
You can't go back up there. It's too dangerous bullshit. Claire chuckled. Sorry, but I just don't think it's a good idea to. No, no, this has to work. I will find a way to make it work. If you can't help me then. I didn't hear the rest of her ramp because clara began rattling off details loudly. Stop. I said a touch too loudly myself, Bitsy pursed her lips and sat back in her chair. I can't listen to both of you go off at the same time. Betsy hold on and let me listen to Claire to my guide.
Okay, you said you wanted to pick my brain right then give me a second. This woman has no idea how lucky she is that she got away once. She'd be insane to go back there. Claire insisted angrily because of the gremlins or the ghost. It's not a ghost. What is it? I asked, annoyed. This interview took place before my ability to see spirits came back and I felt like I was flying blind. What is she saying? Betsy asked, hold on please. The so called gremlins are like henchmen.
They do its bidding but they're also a part of it. It's just been toying with them, testing them. Is there anything they can do to protect their property? Screw the property, they might not even be safe here. Why it followed them? It's right here. Oh it's goals to kill them. What is it? It doesn't want me to say yikes. Okay, but can you describe what it looks like? Um Well when it first sat down beside her it looked like her but with long white hair instead of a pixie cut.
I thought maybe it was a relative of hers before it shifted since we've been talking. It looked like a deer and then a deer. Yeah, but like an evil one, Claire explained. And now it looks like a demon, Like a forest demon. It's sitting here right now where Betsy nearly shrieked, looking beside her on the bench. It's sitting next to you. It followed you from the camp, I replied as Claire went on describing the monster. Okay?
I said finally, it wants you to go back to the camp so it can keep playing with you. But eventually it wants both you and your husband dead so that it can collect you, collect us. What does that mean? I don't know. It's got to be some kind of ancient, the word wraith just popped into my mind. It doesn't want my guide to say what it is exactly. But it's got to be really old and really powerful. Can't I get rid of it? Can I call a priest or something? Not a priest.
No, they don't have any authority here. But maybe a Wiccan could help you need someone who really knows what they're doing in the meantime, you need to sell that camp. You can't have ownership of it, ownership binds you to the entity tied to the land. There we put so much work into that place, bitsy wind, right? But it's going to kill you and your husband. So how can I sell it to someone else. That seems cruel. Maybe there's some fancy footwork that could get you out of it.
Maybe you could sell it to someone who wouldn't actually go there, like one of those things where you sell it for a dollar to someone ridiculous. She spat, sell 15 acres for a dollar, to whom you asked. Betsy crossed her arms and stared at the table. Curiosity got the better of me. Can I just ask what exactly happened to you up there? Without looking up from the table, Betsy began. We started out with 20 chickens by the second week. We're down to 12 by the third zero.
Whatever was killing them wasn't doing it for food. They weren't eaten, their heads were ripped off. We never found them. The chickens know their heads. Oh, God, there wasn't any sign of predators in the area which should have tipped us off that something wasn't right. The livestock should have attracted every fisher, cat and fox in the area. They would have left some sort of evidence, but our fences and wire mesh were intact, no rips or holes, just beheaded chicken carcasses.
It occurred to us that we might be dealing with other homesteaders in the area that perhaps we've done something to upset the neighbors. So we made an effort to visit the nearby homesteads. They were quite welcoming actually, no one seemed to have any problem with us and none of them had been having problems with predators. I wondered if we'd made a mistake with the way we laid out the property. It didn't allow us to keep an eye on the animals. The homestead is arranged like a wheel.
The house at the center was short trails, like spokes leading to the farm. The animal pens, the hen house, the outhouse. We didn't want to clear cut a huge area in the middle of the forest. Too obvious. Too exposed by separating things out like that made it harder to spot the settlement. Smart, I commented, I wouldn't go that far. We lost all those damn chickens and didn't hear or see a thing it spooked us. Did you have other animals, goats, pigs, handful of rabbits and two sheep.
We lost them about three at a time by the third week. It was just the two of us and you didn't see or hear anything really. Really? That's another thing out there. When you went to sleep at night, you went to sleep. It was more like blacking out the second your head touches the pillow. I blamed it on all the hard work we are doing to keep everything running. But it wasn't just that I'd wake up in the morning feeling like I'd been drugged And the dreams. Lord help me. The violence.
Just the worst things you could imagine. Like what I asked. Feeling nosy but too curious not to inquire. The best way I can describe them is apocalyptic. A night's worth of one scene after the next of worldwide annihilation and its aftermath. I thought perhaps my mind was simply working my greatest fears out of my system because we'd finally made the move. But the dreams are unrelenting. She sighed deeply. Let me see what else has happened.
Well, we have two cabins, both a frames with solar panels for limited electricity, wood stoves for heat. The the root cellar is right behind our cabin The second day we were on the property before all the problems began with the animals. I was inside our cabin stacking wood beside the stove and James was out clearing fallen branches. He said that I walked out of the woods and over to the root cellar.
He called out and I didn't say a word, but motion from to follow me, I bitsy made finger quotes, opened the root cellar doors and disappeared down into the darkness. It's a large space. We figured bigger was better. And dug down 12 ft to a 12 by 12 space. Anyhow, James followed me into the root cellar, thinking I had something to show him. But when he got down there he was alone. I disappeared. It was the only time that either of us saw another person.
He couldn't explain what he saw, but he knew it couldn't have been real. I worried that we should come back to town and have his doctor look him over, but he insisted he was fine. The next morning we found the first chickens from there. Things got worse and worse. But you mentioned gremlins I prompted, they're everywhere. It's an infestation. My first encounter with them was in bed of all places. I dozed off reading.
James was in the main room finishing a puzzle and I felt our dog fitzy hop up onto the bed and snuggle in behind my legs. It was something that happened a million times and felt so familiar that I didn't think anything of it at first until I woke up fully. We don't have a dog, fitzy passed away last year. Oh, jesus! I jumped out of bed the second I realized what was happening and I caught the briefest glimpse of the thing scrambling down to the floor and running out the bedroom door.
I screamed for James, but he didn't see anything. What did it look like that time? I only caught a peek of it. And even though it was walking on two legs, I convinced myself that had been Well, it sounds absurd, but a malnourished muskrat or a mink with mange. It was gross Later on when I really got a good look at them, she shuddered. Only their paws and feet have for short spiky looking for and they have long, thick black whiskers, short legs, long feet, and bodies.
These long arms that reach down to their little knees and appointed head, did you think that maybe that thing was responsible for the chickens. Not yet. Not then, at least this happened. One of the first nights we were there and we assumed that an animal had gotten in somehow though we didn't find any signs of infestation. In fact, we never have, they leave no physical evidence of themselves. They just scurry around and cause chaos.
You know, I did a bit of google research and found quite a bit of information about gremlins causing all sorts of mechanical problems for the Royal Air Force during World War Two. So I was thinking maybe these creatures are prone to causing chaos in times of great stress and violence. And what else can you call this time in history? But we're not at war, I pointed out, aren't we? Well, you're certainly aren't in a war.
You're on a remote homestead, but I'm not the only one I belong to several homesteading and prepping facebook communities. And there are people complaining of very similar situations. You need to end this conversation, Claire said, her voice urgent, Montana. Ohio Georgia, Arizona Betsy went on. These people do not know each other and they're describing similar creatures I suppose only to adjust my theory considering this. What did you call it? A wrath Wraith? I corrected, Liz seriously.
This thing is getting agitated, wrap it up, Wraith, Betsy repeated. Can you imagine if this is just the tip of the iceberg? It's an interesting theory, I said, and I'll ask around to see if I could get you in touch with what if this is an indication that something bigger really is coming and it's stirring up creatures who thrive? Well, I suppose you might say, mass disaster or war Fitzy went on. You're getting too close.
We're not supposed to clear, gasped and stop talking Bitsy continued rambling on and I began to feel very, very cold. Betsy. I have to ask you to stop talking about this. Excuse me. I'm sorry. I think you might be right. But talking about it seems to be creating some sort of a problem with that entity thing that followed you here! Get up now! Clear! Nearly yelled. I winced. I pushed away from the table and grab my bag off the floor. Where are you going?
I'm sorry to be rude, but I have to go, I will text you the contact information from a wiccan practitioner as soon as I'm able to find one who can help you. Um Best of luck. Best of luck, Betsy hissed. Go Claire demanded. Sorry. I called over my shoulder as I scurried to the door and out into the parking lot. What the hell was that? I whispered. You don't want any part of that situation.
Now, you tell me after I've been sitting there for half an hour, it was fine until she started connecting the dots. What does that have to do with me? I could just see that thing beginning to try to get its feelers into you. Claire explained the less you know about what's involved, the better I climbed into the car and pulled on my seatbelt are those things really all over the country's sabotaging people. Just leave it alone.
Instead of going home, I went across town to Starbucks and sat doom scrolling and making lists until it was time for school pickup. When chris got home that night, the girls were all on their ipads and I was on the couch, laptop on my lap. Season one, episode three of Homestead Rescue on the television. What's up? He asked, flopping down next to me. What do you know about gas generators? He glanced at my computer screen, then up at the television.
I'm gonna go pour a glass of wine, he said, getting back up, would you like 1? I finally looked up. Did you hear me? I heard you, He replied over his shoulder as he retreated into the kitchen, 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 write and review it wherever you listen and follow me at ghosts in the burbs on instagram and Tiktok. Those things are incredibly valuable.
The choice to keep this podcast is intentional. Your action, Your interaction with this show helps other people find our spooky little nook and as always, while you're helping me please do the same for all the podcasts and shows and every other bit of content. You enjoy wherever you enjoy it. I donate ghosts in the burbs, merch proceeds to various charities and just like bitsy said, it's like apocalypse roulette. Right now, things are happening so fast.
A few people have asked where I'm donating the merch proceeds this month. It's fucking whack a mole out there in terms of devastation popping up everywhere. So September's profit, $350 went to the Red Cross, who the hell knows where it will be needed in October but we'll make that call when the time comes head over to ghost in the burbs.com. In the meantime, for all the lengths to some cute autumn merch. Tis the perfect season to read off season by jack ketchum.
It's a doozy, a classic slasher with gratuitous violence. Women noticing each other boobs in the middle of utter devastation and gore beyond belief. I can't believe I got through it, but I did. If you're up for it, give it a read. If that sounds like way too much. Right now, read the carol house by darcy Coates might be Cortez. I'm not positive. It's C O A T E S. And that's about a classically casali haunted hotel slash mansion.
Then listen to lilith and claire by me on audible and finally take to the bed on a cozy full day and watched 2 1988 classics, High spirits and my best friend is a vampire and then move on to 1985. Once been, then eat a candy apple carve a pumpkin and dig into the candy you bought on sale and lied to yourself about. You knew damn well, it wouldn't make it to Halloween, shame on you until next time. Good night. Sleep tight and don't forget your night light.