ALLIGATORS

A young woman in town married a man from another part of the country. He was a nice fellow, and they got along pretty well together. There was only one problem. Every night he’d go swimming in the river. Sometimes, he’d be gone all night long, and she would complain of her loneliness.

The couple had two young sons. As soon as the boys could walk, their father began to teach them how to swim, and when they got older, he would take them swimming in the river at night. They would often stay there all night long, and the woman would stay home, alone.

After a while, she began to act strangely—at least, that’s what the neighbors said. She told them that her husband was turning into an alligator and he was trying to turn the boys into alligators, too.

Everyone told her there was nothing wrong with a man taking his sons swimming. That was just a natural thing to do. And when it came to alligators? There just weren’t any in the area, and everybody knew that.

Early one morning, the woman came running into town from the direction of the river. She was soaking wet, her clothing dripping water. She said a big alligator and two little alligators had pulled her into the river and tried to get her to eat a raw fish. She claimed that they were her husband and her sons, and they apparently wanted her to live with them, but she managed to escape.

Her doctor decided she had lost her mind, and he had her put in the mental institution for a while. After that, nobody saw her husband or children again. They just vanished.

But every now and then, a fisherman would tell about seeing alligators in the river at night. Usually, it was one large alligator accompanied by two small ones. Most people said the fishermen were just making it up. After all, everyone knows there aren’t any alligators out here.

DO NOT PANIC

 The following is from the US Government Peace Corps Manual for its volunteers who work in the Amazon Jungle. It tells what to do in case an anaconda attacks you.

1. If you are attacked by an anaconda do not run. The snake is faster than you are. 

2. Lie flat on the ground. Put your arms tight against your sides, your legs tight against one another. 

3. Tuck your chin in. 

4. The snake will come and begin to nudge and climb over your body. 

5. Do not panic. 

6. After the snake has examined you, it will begin to swallow you from the feet and always from the end. Permit the snake to swallow your feet and ankles. Do not panic. 

7. The snake will now begin to suck your legs into its body. You must lie perfectly still. This will take a long time. 

8. When the snake has reached your knees slowly and with as little movement as possible, reach down, take your knife and very gently slide it into the side of the snake's mouth between the edge of its mouth and your leg, then suddenly rip upwards, severing the snake's head. 

9. Be sure you have your knife. 

10. Be sure your knife is sharp.

CHAR MAN

A well-known urban legend in California comes from the Ojai Valley in Camp Comfort County Park. They say the spirit of a man burnt in a fire will emerge from the forest and attack cars and hikers. He is called Char-Man because the majority of his face and body could be described as “extra-crispy.”

There are several versions of Char-Man’s origin, but they all begin with a wildfire that occurred in the park in 1948. The main story goes that a father and son were caught in the blaze and the older man was killed. But the son survived, and when a rescue team arrived they found that he had strung up his father and pulled off his skin. He then disappeared into the woods. Another story makes the victims a husband and wife, claiming that the man went mad as he lay trapped and injured in the fire, unable to aid his wife, who was screaming for his help.

Either way, it is said that if you drive onto a bridge located in the park and get out of your car, Char-Man will come. The horribly burned man will run at you and attack, trying to tear off your skin—perhaps to take as his own.

Story source.

DANGERFIELD NEWBY

During the John Brown raid, the first raider killed was an African-American  man by the name of Dangerfield Newby. Dangerfield had been freed by his white father, but he had a wife and seven children held in slavery in Warrenton, Virginia. His wife’s master had told him that for the sum of $1,500 he could buy his wife and his youngest baby, who had just started to crawl. Dangerfield earned that amount of money and went back to Warrenton to purchase his wife and baby, only to have his wife’s master raise the price. The free black man then joined John Brown in the hope of freeing not only his wife and youngest baby, but his entire family.

There were a lot of guns in Harper's Ferry, since they were made in the town and stored in the 22 building armory complex near the train tracks. There was little ammunition for the guns, however, and townspeople would fire anything they could find for their guns. One man was shooting 6 inch spikes from his powder-loaded gun.

When John Brown raided the town in October of 1859, it was one of those spikes that hit the throat of Dangerfield Newby. He was killed instantly.

The people of Harper's Ferry, frustrated and angered by John Brown and his raiders, took the body of Dangerfield Newby and stabbed it repeatedly with their rusty knives. They left the mutilated body in the alley to be eaten by the hungry hogs.

Some night, if you are walking down Hog Alley and see a man dressed in baggy trousers and an old slouched hat with a terrible scar across his throat, you will know you have met Dangerfield Newby. He is still roaming our streets, trying to free his family.

Source.

DENVER SPIDERMAN

On a September evening in 1941, Philip Peters was walking home when he bumped into an old acquaintance. The 59-year-old Theodore Coneys excused himself, although it was no accident that they had run into each other. Coneys, down on his luck and without a penny to his name, had every intention of meeting Peters on that evening to ask him for money.

Unfortunately, while Peters was independently wealthy, his money had been running out as he cared for his ailing wife who, most recently, had been hospitalized two weeks prior due to a broken hip. Peters respectfully declined to Theodore and went on his way; Coneys, however, was not done - not ready to starve on the streets.

So he kept an eye on Peters’ house and watched him come and go. As Theodore noted Mr. Peters' schedule, he found a time where Philip had forgotten to lock the door and at this point he went inside and out of the increasingly cold elements. In the house he found food and shelter and even had time to explore the house to find a hidden entrance inside a closet that led into the attic. Realizing that he could remain quite hidden from Philip Peters, Theodore Coneys took up residence in the small attic space, sneaking down at night for food and water.

One night, Coneys had come out of the attic thinking Peters to be at the hospital visiting with his wife, although unbeknown to Theodore, Peters had only taken a nap. Coneys snuck out of the attic and slid down to the kitchen, taking only minimal care as not to be heard. The noises awoke Philip, who went downstairs to investigate, although this would prove to be fatal. Startled and caught, Theodore Coneys grabbed the nearest object, a cast iron, and bludgeoned Mr. Peters to death.

Curious neighbors, noting Peters’ unusual absence, came to the house to check in and found the doors locked. After a call to the police, the body of Mr. Peters was found bloodied and quite deceased. Investigating and finding no signs of forced entry, the police labeled it a closed case.

Meanwhile Mrs. Peters had ended her stay at the hospital and had returned home in the wake of her husband's death. At night, Mrs. Peters and her housekeeper would hear noises and see shadows, and made frequent phone calls to the authorities. When the police would come to examine the house, they searched inside and out, noting the small hole in the closet, but determining that no normal sized adult could possibly fit there and did no further probing.

Months went by and more phone calls were made; the police stopped responding, believing Mrs. Peters to be crazy. So bad, she thought it was, that she simply left with her housekeeper. The rumors that the house was haunted began to arise; kids would dare each other to go in, but none ever would, because from the streets they could see the shadows moving and hear the noises coming from inside.

It wasn’t until July 30, 1942, that the police on a routine patrol happened to catch movement from inside the house. Upon entering, they heard footsteps running away; as they followed, they heard a “click” as the latch to the attic entrance was unlocked. The police followed upstairs and saw Coneys’ legs just outside of the hole; grabbing onto him, the officer pulled back and an emaciated and crazed Coneys fell on the floor. Small and frail, he was unable to fight.

Coneys admitted to the crime and explained in gruesome detail how it had happened. He was tried and convicted and sentenced to a life-term in the Colorado State Penitentiary in Canon City, Colorado, where he died on May 16, 1967. Local newspapers had dubbed him the “Denver Spider Man of Moncrieff Place.”

Source.

DEATH STAIN

A stain, shaped like a human body, can be found on the concrete floor of the Athens Mental Health and Retardation Center in Athens, Ohio. According to legend, this stain marks the location where the body of a patient, Margaret Schilling, lay undiscovered for several weeks back in 1979.

A team of forensic scientists recently tested the stain to determine whether it’s a genuine human decomposition stain, or if it was created artificially. They published the results of their investigation in the Nov 2008 issue of the Journal of Forensic Sciences (vol 53, no. 6), “Analysis of Suspected Trace Human Remains from an Indoor Concrete Surface.”

Their conclusion: Yes, it’s a human decomposition stain, although the stain has been made more prominent over the years by attempts to remove it:

Margaret’s body was probably in contact with the area of the stain for a period of 4–5 weeks. During this time, significant decomposition is known to have occurred, indicating that the room was apparently warm enough to facilitate bacterial degradation. During this time, anaerobic bacterial decomposition could have taken place in the contact areas between the concrete and the heavier, fatty areas of Margaret’s body, such as the buttocks, back and shoulders. Bacterial action is supported by the odd-numbered fatty acids found in the residues. Such decomposition, facilitated by the moisture naturally present in Margaret’s body, formed free fatty acids from the lipids in her subcutaneous tissue. This process may have been accompanied, in part or in whole, by the basic conditions provided through contact with the concrete. During the 4- to 5-week period in which the free fatty acids were being formed, and in any subsequent washing over the years, at least half of the sodium ions were displaced by calcium ions from the concrete. The result is a waxy residue of mostly calcium palmitate which is up to 2 mm thick in certain areas of the stain. In most areas of the stain, the waxy residue also resides in surface pores in the concrete, consistent with the suggestion that removal of the stain was attempted on at least one occasion.

At some point since the removal of Margaret’s remains in January of 1979, the floor has likely been treated with an acidic chemical— probably Blu-Lite (20.5% phosphoric acid)—to lighten the color of the waxy residue and of the concrete. The chemical etching was not uniform across the entire floor surface, however, but was selectively restricted to a shape that resembled the apparent outline of a human body.

Original source unknown.

GIRL IN BLUE

In 1933, a girl dressed all in blue came to Willoughby, Ohio on a Greyhound bus. She stayed the night in a boarding house before spending the next day greeting everyone with heartfelt warmth. At the end of the day, she saw the train to New York approach, dropped her cases, sprinted for the track, was hit by the train and died of her injuries. No one knew her name for 60 years, yet 3,000 people attended her funeral. And no one will ever know if it was an accident or suicide.

REVIEW: KILLER LEGENDS

Co-writer/co-director Joshua Zeman took an interesting approach with his previous documentary, Cropsey. What is ultimately a true-crime examination of a series of child murderers that occurred in Staten Island, New York, actually began with a brief rumination on the idea of urban legends and how real-life monsters become mythical ones. This idea of investigating urban legends must've sat well with him, for he has returned with Killer Legends, a documentary that examines the origins of four of the most infamous urban legends in popular culture. Zeman posits that every urban legend is based on "some sort of truth," and our desire to believe these legends allows us to "pull back the curtain" on what scares us most: reality. This approach is taken as each popular legend is recounted and its real-life inspirations are analyzed.  

I have always been incredibly intrigued by urban legends – their origins, their power to spread from person to person like something contagious, as well as the stories themselves. I recall, when having watched the pretty terrible Urban Legend in my youth, wishing that the fancy leather-bound book one character looks through in the film, called simply "Urban Legends," both existed and sat on my shelf. There was something that seemed especially dangerous about those particular tales – they weren't just ghost or murder stories. They achieved a real power to them because many people who told them honestly believed they had happened to someone close to them. 

Though that fancy schmancy book of urban legends filled with classy pencil-sketch drawings may never exist, Killer Legends is a phenomenal substitute. Well realized and very well executed, urban legends of the "hook man," the "candy man," the "murdered babysitter," and motherfuckin' "killer clowns" are each explored as in-depth as the doc's running time would allow. Though certain legends have more time dedicated to them than others, the filmmakers deserve accolades for having put such effort into each investigation. We hear so often growing up, and see in films when one character tells a camp-fire story, some of which are featured in Killer Legends, only for the punchline to be a cheesy fake scare punctuated with proclamations that the storyteller's yarn never happened - that it was the stuff of fiction.

Not true. And that actually kind of surprised me. For so long we've been reassured by our parents and teachers that such stories we exchanged on the playground never happened, and we shouldn't worry. I suppose it was "okay" for them to lie to us at that age, in favor of letting us have a few more years' worth of peaceful nights before we found out that, yeah, this shit actually happened, and happens, and will happen.

The doc is propelled by onscreen hosts Zeman and Rachel Miller, but interviews with specialists, historians, and the real people who were local to the various crimes being examined also share their insights, some of them more surprising than others. Also bolstering the theme of life's infatuation with the dark are the assembly of movie clips from such titles as Halloween, Candyman, The Town That Dreaded Sundown, and oh yeah, Stephen King's IT.

Killer Legends has a lot to offer, and to many kinds of viewers. Students of true crime, folklore, psychology, and the casual horror fan – the doc will ably provide a wealth of entertainment, information, and at times even poignancy, depending on what you want to get from it. I'd love for Joshua Zeman to consider this documentary as the first in a series in which he examines handfuls of urban legends at a time. This kind of attempt has been done before, in cheesy shows like "Fact of Fiction" or the recent series "Urban Legends," but not with this kind of serious, investigative, or philosophical approach.

It's now available on DVD from Breaking Glass Pictures.

REFLECTION

One cold winter night, sixteen-year-old Kelly Sanders was home alone, as her parents had gone out to a dinner party at a friend's house. It had been snowing all afternoon, but had just recently stopped. After studying for a while, she decides to relax a little - after all, she finally had the house to herself. She makes some popcorn, gets a nice warm, fuzzy blanket, and snuggles under it to watch one of her favorite movies. 

In their lounge room, the television is positioned a few feet in front of the glass sliding door that leads to the patio and backyard. 

By midnight, Kelly's parents are still not home, and she begins to feel uneasy, but refuses to call them, for risk of sounding like she couldn't take care of herself. 

Suddenly, her eye catches a glint of light from behind the TV, and right there, just outside the glass door, was a crazy-eyed man, grinning maliciously at her, and holding a long, narrow blade in his left hand. Terrified, the girl panics, pulls the blanket up over her head and grabs the cordless phone by her side. Kelly calls the police, and as luck would have it, there was a patrol car less than a block from her house. In a matter of seconds, two officers are on the scene and Kelly tells them about the armed man staring through the glass. 

The first officer opens the sliding door and looks around the area. After a few moments, she turns and explains to Kelly that there couldn't have been anyone standing out there, as there would have been footprints in the snow. The second officer tells her that she is probably just tired and her imagination was playing tricks on her. He beckoned at the TV where the horror movie she had been watching was still playing. 

"Stuff like that didn't help matters, either,'' he said smiling. 

Kelly smiled too, more at her own immaturity than the officer's remark, still a little shaken. 

As the police are about to leave, the male officer stops and looks behind the sofa that Kelly had been sitting on. His jaw drops and eyes widen in shock. Kelly and the other officer notice his reaction and follow his gaze; they both gasp. There were wet footprints and a discarded knife on the carpet behind the couch. 

Kelly hadn't seen the man outside he door; she'd seen his reflection when he was standing behind her.

SURVIVORS

In the 19th century, the famous horror writer Egdar Allan Poe wrote a book called ‘The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym.’ It was about four survivors of a shipwreck who were in an open boat for many days before they decided to kill and eat the cabin boy whose name was Richard Parker. Some years later, in 1884, the yawl, Mignonette, foundered, with only four survivors, who were in an open boat for many days. Eventually the three senior members of the crew killed and ate the cabin boy. The name of the cabin boy was Richard Parker.

COUGHING DOG

Kristin had always been the “black sheep” of her family. She came from a rural and very conservative Middle Georgia clan, and had fought constantly with her parents since she was a child. Kristin wanted no part of the settled and routine life her parents had lead – she was an impulsive free-spirit who would travel to the far corners of the earth at a moment’s notice, sometimes not even knowing where she was headed, or why.

So it came as no surprise when, a few weeks shy of her 30th birthday, Kristin announced that she was leaving her high-paying job at a major corporation to fulfill her life’s dream – to become a professional sculptor. She sold her expensive suburban apartment and moved into an abandoned mill in one of the rougher areas of Atlanta. She planned on converting part of the space into a full-time studio and living area.

Her parents were horrified, especially when they learned that her studio was just a few miles down the road from the county jail. And Kristin didn’t see the need to rig her studio with an expensive alarm system, for her neighbors seemed nice enough. But like every other discussion Kristin had with her father, his words of warning went in one ear and out the other.

So on her 30th birthday, her father took matters into his own hands and bought Kristin a guard dog – a Doberman named Bishop from the local humane society. The dog had been abused by his former owners, and had become mean and distrustful of humans. But Kristin always had a strong love for animals, and she took the poor dog into her care. In a matter of weeks, Bishop became very attached to Kristin, and extremely protective whenever anyone else would approach her.

One morning, Kristin came home from a trip to the hardware store to find Bishop lying in the middle of the floor, coughing and wheezing uncontrollably. She immediately rushed him to the local veterinarian, who performed a series of tests. After a while, the vet was satisfied that Bishop wasn’t dangerously sick, but he couldn’t figure out why the dog was still coughing.

“Don’t worry,” he told Kristin in his calm and soothing voice, “Bishop looks perfectly healthy. But I’d like to run some additional tests on him this afternoon. Why don’t you go home and I’ll call you when we know something. There’s no sense in sitting in the waiting room all day.”

So Kristin got back in her car, made a trip to the health food store, then returned home. As she walked through the door, she could hear the phone ringing in her bedroom. Loaded down with shopping bags, she decided to let her voice-mail catch the call. But no sooner had the phone stopped ringing then it started ringing again. Thinking it may be an emergency – or perhaps an annoying telemarketer who needed to be yelled at – Kristin dropped her bags and ran to the phone, catching it on its last ring.

“Hello?” she breathlessly answered.

She was surprised to find her veterinarian on the other end. “Kristin, we have some results on Bishop. We need you to come back to the office.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour or so…”

“…No, Kristin,” interrupted the vet in a barely controlled voice. “We need you to come down now.”

Kristin was taken aback by the sound of his voice. She could hear the tension lurking behind his words. There was something he wasn’t telling her. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is Bishop okay?”

“We’ll talk about that when you get here,” answered the vet, his voice growing louder and more agitated. “Just get in the car now.”

“Why can’t you tell me over the phone?” asked Kristin.

The vet suddenly blurted out, “Are you in the house alone?”

A chill ran through Kristin’s blood. She slowly sat on her bed and replied, “Yes. Why?”

She could hear the vet taking a deep breath on the other end of the phone. Then, barely able to contain the tremor in his throat, he said in a hushed voice, “Listen to me carefully. We found out why Bishop was coughing.”

It was then that Kristin noticed her bedroom window. A hole had been punched through the glass, and it was unlocked.

“Kristin, are you there?”

“Yes,” Kristin answered, her voice starting to shake.

She then noticed drops of blood on her carpet. They stretched across the room and underneath her closet door. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but what we found in your dog’s throat were fingers. Human fingers.”

As the vet spoke, Kristin sat frozen as she watched the closet door slowly creak open on its rusted hinges. “Did you hear what I said? He bit the fingers off somebody’s hand!”

Kristin still didn’t answer. In the darkness of the closet, she swore she could see the hand of a large man, blood dripping from where his fingers had been gnawed off. And on his arm was the orange sleeve of a prison uniform.

HAROLD

When it got hot in the valley, Thomas and Alfred drove their cows up to a cool, green pasture in the mountains to graze. Usually they stayed there with the cows for two months. Then they brought them down to the valley again. The work was easy enough, but, oh, it was boring. All day the two men tended their cows. At night they went back to the tiny hut where they lived. They ate supper and worked in the garden and went to sleep. It was always the same.

Then Thomas had an idea that changed everything. "Let's make a doll the size of a man," he said. "It would be fun to make, and we could put it in the garden to scare the birds."

"It should look like Harold," Alfred said. Harold was a farmer they both hated.

They made a doll out of old sacks stuffed with straw. They gave it a pointy nose like Harold's and tiny eyes like his. Then they added dark hair and a twisted frown. Of course they also gave it Harold's name.

Each morning on their way to the pasture, they tied Harold to a pole in the garden to scare away the birds. Each night they brought him inside so that he wouldn't get ruined if it rained.

When they were feeling playful, they would talk to him. One of them might say,"How are the vegetables growing today, Harold?" Then the other, making believe he was Harold, would answer in a crazy voice,"Very slowly." They both would laugh, but not Harold.

Whenever something went wrong, they took it out on Harold. They would curse at him, even kick or punch him. Sometimes one of them would take the food they were eating (which they both were sick of) and smear it on the doll's face. 

"How do you like that stew, Harold?" he would ask. "Well, you better eat it - or else." Then the two men would howl with laughter.

One night, after Thomas had wiped Harold's face with food, Harold grunted. 

"Did you hear that?" Alfred asked.

"It was Harold," Thomas said. "I was watching him when it happened. I can't believe it."

"How could he grunt?" Alfred asked. "He's just a sack of straw. It's not possible."

"Let's throw him in the fire," Thomas said,"and that will be that."

"Let's not do anything stupid," said Alfred. "We don't know whats going on. When we move the cows down, we'll leave him behind. For now, let's just keep an eye on him."

So they left Harold sitting in the corner of the hut. They didn't talk to him or take him outside anymore. Now and then the doll grunted, but that was all. 

After a few days, they decided there was nothing to be afraid of. Maybe a mouse or some insects had gotten inside Harold and were making those sounds.

So Thomas and Alfred went back to their old ways. Each morning they put Harold out in the garden, and each night they brought him back into the hut. When they felt playful, they joked with him. When they felt mean, they treated him as badly as ever.

Then one night Alfred noticed something that frightened him. "Harold is growing," he said.

"I was thinking the same thing," Thomas said.

"Maybe it's just our imagination," Albert replied. "We have been up here on this mountain for too long."

The next morning, while they were eating, Harold stood up and walked out of the hut. He climbed up on the roof and trotted back and forth, like a horse on its hind legs. All day and all night, he trotted like that. In the morning Harold climbed down and stood in a far corner of the pasture. The men had no idea what he would do next. They were afraid.

They decided to take the cows down into the valley that same day. When they left, Harold was nowhere in sight. They felt as if they had escaped a great danger and began joking and singing. But when they had gone only a mile or two, they realized they had forgotten to bring the milking stools.

Neither one wanted to go back for them, but the stools would cost a lot to replace. "There really is nothing to be afraid of," they told one another. "After all, what could a doll do?"

They drew straws to see which one would go back. It was Thomas. "I'll catch up with you." he said, and Alfred walked toward the valley.

When Alfred came to a rise in the path, he looked back for Thomas. He did not see him anywhere. But he did see Harold. The doll was on the roof of the hut again. As Alfred watched, Harold kneeled and stretched out a bloody skin to dry in the sun.

MEREANA MORDEGARD GLESGORV

There is a video on YouTube named "Mereana Mordegard Glesgorv." If you search this, you will find nothing. The few times you find something, all you will see is a 20 second video of a man staring intently at you, expressionless, then grinning for the last 2 seconds. The background is undefined. This is only part of the actual video.

The full video lasts 2 minutes, and was removed by YouTube after 153 people who viewed the video gouged out their eyes and mailed them to YouTube’s main office in San Bruno. Said people had also committed suicide in various ways. It is not yet known how they managed to mail their eyes after gouging them out. And the cryptic inscription they carve on their forearms has not yet been deciphered.

YouTube will periodically put up the first 20 seconds of the video to quell suspicions, so that people will not go look for the real thing and upload it. The video itself was only viewed by one YouTube staff member, who started screaming after 45 seconds. This man is under constant sedatives and is apparently unable to recall what he saw. The other people who were in the same room as him while he viewed it and turned off the video for him say that all they could hear was a high pitched drilling sound. None of them dared look at the screen.

The person who uploaded the video was never found, the IP address being non-existent. And the man on the video has never been identified.

 

BORDER CROSSING

There was a couple from Texas who were planning a weekend trip across the Mexican border for a shopping spree. At the last minute their babysitter canceled, so they had to bring along their two-year-old son with them. They had been across the border for an hour when the boy got free and ran around the corner. The mother tried to find him, but he was missing. The mother found a police officer, who told her to go to the gate and wait. Not really understanding the instructions, she did as she was told. About 45 minutes later, a Mexican man approached the border, carrying the boy. The mother ran to him, grateful that he had been found. When the man realized it was the boy's mother, he dropped him and ran. The police were waiting for him. The boy was dead, and in the 45 minutes he was missing, he had been cut open, all of his organs removed, and stuffed with bags of cocaine. The man was going to carry him across the border, as if he were asleep.

"REALISTIC"

In rural southern Illinois, a toy company began selling "realistic" baby dolls to expectant mothers. Apparently, after one mother had her child, the toy baby would start crying. Eventually, the "rocking motion" advertised to calm it down wouldn't work, and you couldn't get it to stop without shaking it. Eventually when it started crying the parent would have to beat it, and the beatings and thrashings would have to get harder and harder to get it to be quiet. The only thing that seemed to shut the baby doll up permanently was to bash its head against the wall to destroy whatever mechanism triggered the crying. On more than one occasion though, neighbors called the authorities to report child abuse, and when the police arrived they found the bloody remains of infants smeared across the walls and the floor. In most cases the mother couldn't understand why the police were there; she just "got rid of the stupid doll," as she rocked a baby-shaped bundle in her arms.

NEVER-ENDING ROAD

In Corona, California there once was a road known by most locals as the Never Ending Road. Specifically, the road’s true name was Lester Road. Now, over twenty years later, the landscape of Corona has changed, and the Never Ending Road is no more. However, years ago, Lester Road was an unlit road that people claimed became a never ending road when driven at night. The people who made such a drive were never seen or heard from again.

The legend became so well-known that people refused to even drive Lester Road during the day. One night, like many teens my age, I drove up Lester Road, but only a short distance, and in my headlights it did look like it went on forever. Frightened, I quickly turned around, because if I continued up the road, I thought I might never return again.

Perpetuation of the legend convinced local law enforcement to investigate. Lester Road took a sharp left turn at its end, and there were no guard rails. Beyond the curve lay a canyon, and on the other side of the canyon was another road that lined up so well with Lester Road that when viewed from the correct angle, especially at night, the canyon vanished from sight, and the road seemed to continue on up and over the hill on the other side of the canyon. Upon investigation of the canyon, dozens of cars were found, fallen to their doom, with the decomposing bodies of the victims still strapped to their seats.

Story source.

HAND PRINT

A photograph allegedly leaked from the Erie, PA, police department appears to show a disproportionately large hand-print on a missing students dorm room window.

19 year old Elizabeth Hetzler disappeared from her dorm in Edinboro University of Pennsylvania on the night of February 12th, 2007. Her room was located on the third floor of the building, the door was locked, and there was no ledge outside her window. Her roommate awoke in the morning, having heard nothing unusual overnight and simply assumed that Elizabeth had left to go to class early. The roommate later told investigators that when she noticed the hand-print, she screamed and knew immediately that “everything Elizabeth had been talking about was true. It was real.”

The previous evening, Elizabeth had remarked to her friends that she’d had a strange experience walking back to her dorm from a late night dance rehearsal. As she made her way across campus, she gradually got the uneasy feeling that someone was watching and following her. “She seemed so relieved to be back in her room again,” her roommate said.

No trace if Elizabeth has yet been found, and investigators have called it the most baffling missing person case of their careers. Since the above image has been circulating the internet for nearly two years, it is difficult to say for certain if it is genuine, although it matches what students and investigators have described (note its size in relation to the coffee pot in the foreground). Remarked Detective Stephen Broze, “You’d think our suspect would be pretty easy to spot. He must stick out in a crowd with eleven-inch fingers.”

GOOGLE DEATH

Type 52.376552,5.198303 into Google Maps. 

You'll find a man dragging a body into a lake.

Just kidding. Turns out it was Rama the Dog.

HANDPRINT OF CELL 17

In 1877, four men, John Donahue, Edward Kelly, Michael Doyle and Alexander Campbell, were found guilty of the murder of mine boss John P. Jones and sentenced to be hanged.  

The trial was a kangaroo court. Not all of the jurors spoke English. The judge was prejudiced against the Mollie Maguires. Today, appeals would be granted on these grounds. Then, there were no appeals.  

Campbell said he was innocent. He didn’t kill Jones. Although he admitted to being an accessory to murder because he was present when Jones was shot, he was found to be guilty of this capital crime. As proof of innocence, he put his hand on the cell wall before being forcibly removed to be hanged, swearing the print would forever remain as evidence.  

Over the years, county sheriffs have tried to remove the handprint to no avail. 

In 1930, Sheriff Biegler had the wall torn down and replaced. The next day, the handprint reappeared. 

Around thirty years later, Sheriff Charles Neast covered the handprint with latex paint, but it reappeared. His son, Tom, in the 1960s, loved to tell friends about the ghostly phenomenon. Word spread and people visited the Carbon County Jail to see the print.  

Attempts to wash the image away failed.  

In recent years, James Starrs, George Washington University forensic scientist, and Jeff Kercheval, Hagerstown MD police chemist, analyzed the handprint using high tech equipment. They found no logical scientific explanation for the handprint’s existence. They finally measured the exact location of the image in the event it there were attempts to remove it and it reappeared, they would know if the phenomenon returned to the same location or a different one. 

The jail’s last sheriff, Bill Juracka, said he wouldn’t try to remove the handprint.  

The prison was closed and is now the Old Jail Museum. Tour guides show groups Cell # 17 where they can see the ghostly handprint. Campbell’s story is told. It is pointed that, although multiple attempts were made to remove the image, it always returned. Many of those who have visited the museum say the atmosphere is eerie.

FACES IN THE WATER

James Courtney and Michael Meehan, crew members of the S.S. Watertown, were cleaning a cargo tank of the oil tanker as it sailed toward the Panama Canal from New York City in December of 1924. Through a freak accident, the two men were overcome by gas fumes and killed. As was the custom of the time, the sailors were buried at sea off the Mexican coast on December 4. 

But this was not the last the remaining crew members were to see of their unfortunate shipmates. The next day, before dusk, the first mate reported seeing the faces of the two men in the waves off the port side of the ship. They remained in the water for 10 seconds, then faded. For several days thereafter, the phantom-like faces of the sailors were clearly seen by other members of the crew in the water following the ship. 

On arrival in New Orleans, the ship’s captain, Keith Tracy, reported the strange events to his employers, the Cities Service Company, who suggested he try to photograph the eerie faces. Captain Tracy purchased a camera for the continuing voyage. When the faces again appeared in the water, Captain Tracy took six photos, then locked the camera and film in the ship’s safe. When the film was processed by a commercial developer in New York, five of the exposures showed nothing but sea foam. But the sixth showed the ghostly faces of the doomed seamen. The negative was checked for fakery by the Burns Detective Agency. After the ship’s crew had been changed, there were no more reports of sightings.