“GHOST HUNTERS SHARE THEIR SCARIEST EXPERIENCES” and More Frightening True Stories! #WeirdDarkness

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IN THIS EPISODE: In June of 2009 a man calling himself Peter Bergmann checked in to a hotel in Sligo Town. Five days later his body was found on Rosses Point Beach. But Peter Bergmann was not Peter Bergmann – so who was he? (The Peter Bergmann Mystery) *** Personal experiences of those who have stayed at the Wolf Creek Inn, plus some hard evidence, seems to indicate that spirits who haunt the place are not only benign in nature, but even protect the guests and owners from other malevolent spirits which roam there as well. (Haunts at Wolf Creek Inn) *** Sharing stories from people who are frightened by a bump in the night or a strange shadow on the wall in their bedroom is one thing, but when you get professional ghost hunters telling of the scariest experiences they’ve had, you know it has to be some freaky stuff. (Scariest Experiences of Ghost Hunters)
SOURCES AND ESSENTIAL WEB LINKS…
“Scariest Experiences of Ghost Hunters” by Amanda Ashley for Graveyard Shift: https://weirddarkness.tiny.us/y7tx3a2t
“Haunts at Wolf Creek Inn” posted at HauntedHouses.com: https://weirddarkness.tiny.us/yadzm4ae
“The Peter Bergmann Mystery” by Rosita Boland for Irish Times: https://weirddarkness.tiny.us/9b44kfs
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PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT…..

Welcome, Weirdos – I’m Darren Marlar and this is Weird Darkness. Here you’ll find stories of the paranormal, supernatural, legends, lore, the strange and bizarre, crime, conspiracy, mysterious, macabre, unsolved and unexplained.

Coming up in this episode…

In June of 2009 a man calling himself Peter Bergmann checked in to a hotel in Sligo Town. Five days later his body was found on Rosses Point Beach. But Peter Bergmann was not Peter Bergmann – so who was he? (The Peter Bergmann Mystery)

Personal experiences of those who have stayed at the Wolf Creek Inn, plus some hard evidence, seems to indicate that spirits who haunt the place are not only benign in nature, but even protect the guests and owners from other malevolent spirits which roam there as well. (Haunts at Wolf Creek Inn)

Sharing stories from people who are frightened by a bump in the night or a strange shadow on the wall in their bedroom is one thing, but when you get professional ghost hunters telling of the scariest experiences they’ve had, you know it has to be some freaky stuff. (Scariest Experiences of Ghost Hunters)

If you’re new here, welcome to the show! While you’re listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com for merchandise, my newsletter, enter contests, to connect with me on social media, plus, you can visit the Hope in the Darkness page if you’re struggling with depression or dark thoughts. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com.

Now.. bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into the Weird Darkness!

STORY: SCARIEST EXPERIENCES OF GHOST HUNTERS==========

While there will always be a debate on whether or not ghosts exist, some people take it a step further and purposely set out on ghost hunts to collect evidence from the other side. These investigations can range from intuition-based, using gut feelings, Ouija boards, and dowsing rods, to more scientific-based, using EMF readers, voice recorders, and laser grid systems. Over on Reddit, ghost hunters are sharing their scariest experiences that still defy explanation.

From Reddit u/Arius_de_Galdri: There was a local cemetery that had a decent amount of activity for some reason, and we used it as a place to test new gear and see how potential new members to the group would react to potential phenomena. The interesting thing about this cemetery was that we would get pretty consistent temperature fluctuations, EMF readings, some EVPs, etc., but any time we pulled a camera out, everything just sort of stopped… We were out at this cemetery one night, just asking questions, checking temps, and the like, when it happened. I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye and glanced over to the old two-track that ran along the back edge of the cemetery, and I saw it: a tall, heavyset man wearing a white shirt and blue overalls, emitting a bluish light as he walked along the two-track. Unfortunately, I didn’t see a face/head because of a low-hanging pine branch, but I saw enough. Now, I had experienced things and seen things that were incredible, and I had always just assumed that when/if I saw a full-body-apparition, it would be this amazing, exciting thing, but I was NOT prepared for how my body actually reacted. I felt my legs lose all their strength and almost fell over. My stomach twisted, and I thought I was going to be sick. I bent over, dizzy, my mind and body completely thrown for a loop. I can’t describe the feeling accurately, but when you SEE something that SHOULDN’T EXIST, and it’s RIGHT THERE, there is no way to ever be prepared for it. The human mind is NEVER READY to experience something like that. I saw that same apparition one more time in that cemetery, doing the same thing (walking along that back two-track), but it’s been years since I’ve seen it now. I will absolutely never forget it, though.

From Reddit u/ImNotImCheesecake: I go ghost hunting with my dad and neighbor. One time, we went to my great-nan’s grave. I had never met her. As soon as we arrived, all three of us started to feel pretty weird, so we sat down for the investigation by the grave. We set up all the voice recorders and EMF meters and started talking. Once my dad introduced me, I felt like something was touching me. My dad jokingly said, “Why not give him a hug?” But when he said that, I felt arms around my waist, my whole waist went cold and tight, but after a few seconds it stopped. We decided to leave after that, although we kept hearing someone walking behind us, until we left the graveyard.

From Reddit u/Nefferito: I was ghost hunting at Kay’s Cross in Utah and one of the experiences there was when we were at the cross and got a really bad feeling, so we decided to leave. As we are leaving, we can hear footsteps behind us and to the sides of us about 15 feet away. I turn my head while walking, and I can see about a dozen shadow figures in the woods just watching us. One of my friends saw a couple and the other didn’t see anything.

From Reddit u/AfgebrandeKoek2: We were in an abandoned high school, which was notorious for being “haunted.” We didn’t believe that, so we went with some material that could help locate and maybe communicate with the ghost. It was said this ghost particularly could write something in a book, so we placed it down and put a camera with night vision right next to it. One of us was holding some smudge sticks so we were sure we couldn’t get attacked. Someone also brought an EMF reader you can buy off of Amazon. Once we were in the haunted room, one of us saw a crawling child in the hallway. We didn’t believe it, and thought he was just paranoid, but when we placed the equipment and my friend said something with the name of the ghost, the lights started flickering and the front door went shut. My other friend, who was in the hallway alone, started screaming and quickly came to us. We got out of there as soon as possible.

From Reddit u/RavenousDead: My team was investigating the Burlington County Prison in NJ. Has a huge painted eye over the door into the cells that says “We are watching you” over it. Has mannequins in cells. Very weird vibe. We are science and IT and photography types. I battle myself and everyone, despite having had paranormal experiences personally, that it is impossible to capture evidence of these events… Anyway, we spent hours investigating the location and there was nothing… so we decide to pack up… I’m on the first floor with another member. Two members are on the middle floor. And another member is going into the basement to turn on the lights. We collect everything before we turn the lights on. Right as I turn off the last audio recorder, my friend gives the okay to switch on the power. RIGHT as the lights go on, and we no longer have any recording or listening abilities, we hear a massive, earth-shaking crash. This place is a museum. Huge cases filled with objects from when the prison was active. This crash shook the floor. It sounded like a huge display case was pushed over and smashed. I could feel it in the ground below me. I could hear glass smashing and scattering across the ground. I could feel the physics of it all. The sound of broken objects filled the whole prison. It came from below us. “Someone just broke something really expensive. We are never going to get to come back here.” As we went down, the two people in the middle floor were rushing up. “What happened up there?” “Nothing. What did you guys do?” They couldn’t understand why we thought it came from the middle floor. But that is where we heard and felt it. They heard and felt it come from our floor. They searched our floor, we searched their floor. The guy in the basement came upstairs in a rush, having heard the massive crash come from the middle like us… We all were certain we heard/felt the crash from the floor below/above us. We looked EVERYWHERE… Not a broken case. Glass. Window. I searched for an additional hour, just because I couldn’t imagine something that massive-sounding, that physical, just not leaving a trace. Really broke my brain. I cannot for the life of me understand how this happened… The park rangers came in and looked, too. They called a week later to confirm nothing was broken.

From Reddit u/craftbeerdrinker16: Used to go ghosting with friends and use Ouija boards all the time. When we were 16, we were (messing) around inside a mausoleum at a cemetery, and when I climbed out, it felt like something blew in my face scaring me, and I fell into a bush. Just thinking it was my imagination getting the best of me, I forgot about it until about a week later. I was back at my house and walking into my room. The lights were out, and I notice it’s just a bit darker on my bed, but didn’t think much of it until I approached my bed and the same scary-a** thing blew in my face again. I actually fell backwards breaking my closet door lol. Haven’t ghosted since.

From Reddit u/Little_Messiah: When I was about 15, my punk friends and I used to sneak into this super old abandoned house next to my best friend’s house. The windows were fine, but there were some holes in the floor on the first floor. We decided to go in there and record on our phones and “ghost hunt.” We brought a Bible and three phones. We put the Bible down in a tiny closet between rooms and set up to record. You can hear us talking and see my friend standing beside the book, but the pages started flipping rapidly, despite there being no breeze and her hair not stirring at all. Then later on in another phone video, you can see us all four standing around in the room talking to the “ghosts” and you can see a fifth person in the room at the back of the video that we didn’t know at all. You can see some bright orange light in the top corner of the ground floor when we were leaving, despite it being night time by then in a house with no power and no holes in the siding. We didn’t realize any of this until after we went back home and watched the recordings. We went back the next day to look for explanations of what we saw, but never found them and never went back. They’ve since torn it down.

From Reddit u/ericaaabish: I’m not necessarily a “ghost hunter,” but I do enjoy urban exploring and venturing into the unknown… My friends and I were being dumb and reckless as we were around the age of 16. We decided it would be fun to grab an Ouija board and go to one of our favorite abandoned places. This abandoned place was an old insane asylum that we used to break into every weekend for the adrenaline rush… Anyway, we got in and sat down in the middle of the building on the second floor. We began goofing off and moving the planchette trying to be funny. In short, nothing immediately happened, and we all just began pranking each other and laughing our a**ess off. After it was all said and done, we foolishly got into our vehicles and drove home for the night. On my way home, I felt very fatigued and just worn out… I stayed out all night, of course I’d be tired, right? Well, for the next MONTH I experienced very bizarre things that even I have a hard time believing. I would wake up most nights with scratches and bruises. The most prominent being a black bruise located on the back of my left upper arm. It was about the size of a baseball… I then began to notice very odd patterns and omens. Three times during this month, I witnessed three owls fly directly at my car and disappear before impact. It scared me so bad I’d jump and lose my breath. There were also times where I’d constantly feel watched and followed. I felt like my privacy was completely invaded. I began to stay up all night because I grew afraid. I felt like I was going crazy. My friends didn’t believe me at first, until they started noticing that odd things would happen when I was around. Things would go missing then reappear, random animals would act aggressive around me, and my friends even began developing scratches and bruises they couldn’t explain either… I finally found one girl who believed me and thought that I may have been hexed. Because I was young and dumb, I really didn’t understand what this meant. I was miserable for so long, and just a few days after speaking with this woman, everything changed. I don’t know what happened, but the energy was lighter and I felt that everything was normal again. I never woke up with scratches or bruises again and although I see an occasional shadow figure every now and again, I can tell that whatever was happening to me had stopped.

From Reddit u/bearcub42: About eight years ago. Using an Ovilus in a house that was undergoing renovation and the owner was super scared. It was pretty flat most of the night, so we decided to check out the remains of the woman’s grandparent’s house that burned down on property. Two of us take but two steps out the door, and my hair gets pulled while the Ovilus coughs up, “Where are you going?” We lost our minds, because it formed a complete sentence, rapid fire words.

From Reddit u/Jimmypeglegs: I did an overnight ghost hunt in a place called Houldsworth Mill in Stockport (probably around 2002?). At the time, the second floor was a makeshift alternative shopping village. At about 3 am, I was stood in the middle of the main aisle with another chap talking. The back of my neck went cold very quickly, so I turned around with my torch and saw, about eight feet away, what looked like a smoky outline of a person’s head and shoulders. After a couple of seconds, it dissipated.

From Reddit u/seeyoulaterkota: Allegedly, the forest next to my house was a typical rally spot for Satanists and the KKK, back in the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s, until urban development turned the once-large forest to something short of a city park. So we decided to go walking in the woods around witching hour with some flashlights. A lot of tripping and being spooked by quick escapes of some nocturnal creature no higher than our ankles. After what sounded like footsteps getting closer and closer behind us and the sound of wood smacking the trunks of nearby trees, I decided to lead the debate on “getting the f*ck out of there.” After all, was it a ghost? A hobo? A demon? I don’t know, and I didn’t care. Also, this was a time when angels vs demons and extraterrestrial contact type History channel programs were circulating the television airwaves. So we walk quickly back to the car, which was parked on the dirt road entrance that separated my neighborhood and the forest. As we got into the car and turned on the headlights, right in front of us was about a 100lb mangy-looking dog with piercing eyes just staring at us. It turned and, without losing eye contact, slowly walked into the woods until it disappeared into the darkness. What’s scary about this whole event was sometime prior, I was watching the History channel about people finding angry-looking canine faces in photos even though there were no dogs or anything present at the time of the photo. Religious experts explained that these were demons that haunted the people in the photos.

From Reddit u/chaotic38: About six to seven years ago, a group of friends and I were amateur ghost hunters. We didn’t have all the gear that modern ghost hunters had, but we had the basics. We only had one spirit box. That we swapped around in shifts. Our team had decided to spend the night in our state forest, which was said to be haunted (there used to be Native American grounds there long ago). Everything went smoothly as we set up… Early on, we didn’t get much. Small little lights on our camera that could just as easily be specks of dust or dirt. Small sounds that could just as easily be animals stepping on sticks. It picked up around midnight. I was on shift at home camp communicating with the others. It started smoothly but I lost contact with one of our group, the one we sent with the spirit box. I remember being unnerved by this. I contacted everyone else about her, but no one had any knowledge of where she was or where she went. We were all severely worried, not because of ghosts necessarily, but because it was a big forest and it was easy to get lost. We decided to group up once… to search for her. Since I knew the forest the most, I took the lead. We didn’t find her for an hour… during which many of our group said they were hearing some kind of voices. When we found our friend, she seemed shook. She told us how she kept trying the walkie-talkie to no avail. (We checked later, and the batteries weren’t dead). She also told us how after she couldn’t reach us, she tried the spirit box. Most of this is her own interpretation. I don’t know what she asked or what it said exactly, so bear that in mind. She said that there seemed to be multiple presences. One kept telling her to run, to leave the forest. The others seemed to want to kill her. The other told her she was trespassing that they would kill us. After that, we decided to head home and call it a day. I’m not sure if she was telling the whole truth or whether she was making it up, but it was a very creepy experience regardless.

From Reddit u/santini-607: Not an official ghost hunter or anything, just like urban exploring… There’s an ooooold hidden building called “the asylum” in my hometown… It was actually a cattle exchange in the ’50s, a venue in the ’70s, and a haunted house in the early-2000s. The haunted house shut down because people kept getting hurt in the building. Well, I found it, it’s a pretty stable/intact building and I had gone a couple of times since, but there was only one room that gave me the heebie-jeebies. It was in the far end of where you’d have to climb up a second story window to get in, go alllllllll the way down the hall, it’s painted all black with a cliche detailed pentagram of some sort drawn in red on the wall. When I would go, it’d be around 4 am to avoid running into any police, so it was dark and I usually just used a flashlight or my phone light to see. At first, my light would only cut out if you were directly in the black room and turn back in once I “walked” a few feet outside. I wanted to see if it was a phone glitch or low battery or something, so I tested it out a few more times with a fully charged phone, an industrial flashlight, a lighter, and a regular flashlight. Same thing happened every time, lights cut out, run out, and it’d turn back on. HOWEVER. The more I did this, the farther away from the room I’d be when the lights cut off, and they wouldn’t turn back on until I jumped out the window. Haven’t gone in years, but still have no explanation for it.

BREAK==========

Coming up…

That story and more when Weird Darkness returns.

STORY: THE PETER BERGMANN MYSTERY==========

In the early morning of June 16th, 2009, a sea fog was hovering over Rosses Point beach, in Co Sligo. It was just beginning to lift soon after 6am, when Arthur Kinsella and his son Brian drove into the beach’s car park after a short journey from their home, in Cartron.

Brian Kinsella was training for a triathalon, and he ran ahead of his father across the sand, eager to enter the Atlantic and swim.

The tide was out that morning, and as Arthur Kinsella came on to the beach he caught sight of something unusual to his right. He knew Rosses Point beach intimately from many morning expeditions. He went closer, to the unfamiliar object not far from the slipway, close to rocks.

This is what Arthur Kinsella found. “It was the body of a person, and he appeared to have drowned and was lying face downwards on the sand.”

He called to his son to come back from the water. The fog had almost totally lifted by then. He noted that there were no footprints anywhere around the body, which appeared to have washed up.

“He looked about 65, I thought,” he says. “We walked around the body, just to make sure that he was dead, and I actually placed my hand on his ankle, and it was marble cold.”

Seven kilometers from Rosses Point, Sgt Terry MacMahon had been on duty since 6am at Sligo Garda station. He was 45 minutes into his shift when the call from Arthur Kinsella came in about the body on the beach.

MacMahon dispatched a car but did not go straight away himself. “I actually went to a storeroom here in the station, and did a bit of hunting and got a tarp kind of a thing, because we knew one of the things we needed to do if there was a body out there was to cover it, away from the public gaze,” he says.

MacMahon arrived with the blue tarpaulin about 10 minutes after his colleagues, who were taking statements from the Kinsellas.

“It was quite obvious he was dead,” MacMahon says. “A grey-haired gentleman, he looked to me like he hadn’t been that long in the water.”

MacMahon noted that the dead man was oddly dressed for a swimmer. He had on a pair of purple striped Speedo-type swimming trunks, with his underpants over the top and a navy T-shirt tucked into them. This was only the first of a number of strange things about the dead man on the beach.

On the afternoon of June 12th, 2009, a Friday, a tall thin man with short grey hair and glasses was captured on CCTV cameras at Derry bus station. He was wearing a black leather jacket and carrying two black bags, one a holdall-type bag, with two handles, the other a laptop-type bag slung over his shoulder.

He was looking for the Sligo bus, which was leaving at 4pm. Two hours and 28 minutes later the man was seen, again on CCTV, getting off it in Sligo.

The town’s bus and train stations are both within walking distance of several hotels. The tall thin man appears to have been unaware of this, as he got into a taxi and asked the driver to bring him to a cheap place to stay.

The driver first went to the Crúiscín Lán guest house, on Connolly Street, but it was full. Although taxis do meet buses and trains in the town, Sligo’s one official rank is on Quay Street, outside Sligo City Hotel, and it is to this hotel they went next.

CCTV recorded the man, who was later reported to have had an Austrian or German accent, entering it at 6.52pm. A receptionist checked in him. A decade ago a single-occupancy room with breakfast cost €65. The man paid in cash, in full, for three nights and was allocated room 705.

The name he wrote in the hotel register was Peter Bergmann. He was not asked to produce any proof of identity.

Like many public spaces, Sligo City Hotel has a number of CCTV cameras. One points over the reception desk, another at the front door, through which all guests must come and go. Over the next three days the guest in room 705 came and went a number of times.

His movements became puzzling only when the Garda later reviewed CCTV footage from the hotel, and from other businesses around the streets of the small town.

It emerged that during his short stay Peter Bergmann had left the hotel no fewer than 13 times, carrying a purple plastic bag that was evidently full of something.

Each time he returned he was no longer carrying anything. Like so much else about this case, it’s unclear if the bag was now in a pocket of his black leather jacket or if he had a stash of them in his hotel room.

Objects don’t vanish by themselves; suddenly disappear like smoke. Back in 2009 John O’Reilly was the detective inspector attached to the Sligo-Leitrim division, and he oversaw the case that was first logged as Unidentified Male on Rosses Point Beach.

Despite the extensive network of CCTV cameras across Sligo town a decade ago, O’Reilly reports that not a single piece of footage showed Peter Bergmann disposing of the contents of this bag, 13 times over. “Not once does it show anywhere where he may have disposed of that property,” he says.

Nor is there any evidence that Peter Bergmann was meeting someone in Sligo and passing these things on to that person, or persons. In all the footage he features in, he is not once seen using a mobile phone, or in conversation with anyone, other than functional transactions at the hotel reception desk and the bus station.

What does O’Reilly think may have been in those bags? “Personal effects. But, you know, we can talk about that until the cows come home, but we can’t speak about what we don’t know. But I’d imagine he had clothing or personal effects, possibly a passport.”

Peter Bergmann arrived in Sligo on a Friday. On the Saturday afternoon he walked around the corner from the hotel to the town’s main post office. He bought 10 82c stamps and was also given airmail stickers.

Back in 2009 it cost 55c to post a letter within Ireland; an 82c stamp would take a letter to the rest of the world.

This transaction was captured on CCTV. Sligo post office has boxes both inside and outside the building. There is a CCTV camera over the boxes that stand near its left-hand entrance. (There are two doors; the other is to the right.) But if you post letters in the exterior boxes, there are no cameras.

“We got the CCTV footage from the post office,” says O’Reilly. “And when we went to look at it – it was downloaded by a staff member – for some strange technological reason the footage hadn’t actually gone on to the USB stick. And when we went back to the post office it was gone off their system.

“Had we had that, it is a possibility, and I stress only a possibility, we might have been able to determine if he posted letters. But we cannot say with certainty that he actually posted 10 letters anywhere.”

A pattern was beginning to emerge. Peter Bergmann was never caught on CCTV disposing of any property; or mailing letters; or using a mobile phone; or meeting anyone.

It’s difficult not to speculate that he knew where the CCTV cameras were. He did not have access to a car, so, as far as is known, he did not take his bag, or bags, farther afield.

Not one member of the passing public ever came forward to say they had noticed him as he rid himself of the contents of a large purple plastic bag, 13 times over, in daylight.

“He had training of a sort, I think,” speculates Terry MacMahon. “So it would be easy to see that he was ex-military or ex-police. Why I think that is because, in relations to the cameras, how he was able to go about his business without people learning anything more about him.”

On the Sunday which was to be the third and final night Peter Bergmann spent in Sligo City Hotel, he again went in search of a taxi, map in hand. The man at the top of the rank outside the hotel was Gerard Higgins.

“I got out of my minibus to say hello, because a man with a map wishes to go somewhere,” Higgins says. His passenger told him he was looking for a place to swim, and pointed to Strand Hill on the map. Higgins knew Strand Hill was a surfing beach, and instead suggested Rosses Point, with its beautiful long sandy beaches. His passenger agreed and, on Higgins’s suggestion, sat up front with him. “He was a bit chatty, asking if there were buses going out there, and I told him, yes, about once every hour.”

Higgins particularly recalls this male passenger, who told him he was from Austria, because of a prominent gold tooth. Later examinations of Peter Bergmann’s body were to reveal he had a gold tooth in the upper back right of his mouth.

Although his passenger with the map and the gold tooth had asked to be taken to a beach suitable for swimming, he did not actually swim. “We drove around Rosses Point. I showed him the two beaches, and I stopped at the car park at the entrance to the beach. He did not get out but then said, Can you bring me to the bus station?”

Higgins brought Peter Bergmann back to Sligo and dropped him off, as requested, at the station. “I gave him my card and told him, if he wanted a taxi again, to call me. He was grateful and paid me with a brand-new €20 note.”

On Monday, June 15th, 2009, Peter Bergmann requested a late checkout of 1pm. When he appeared at hotel reception to return his key he was wearing a long-sleeved pale-blue shirt, black tank top, dark trousers and black leather jacket.

He was carrying three bags: the holdall and the bag with the shoulder strap he had had when checking in; and the purple plastic bag.

He checked out shortly after 1pm. No taxi driver reported taking him the short distance to Sligo bus station, so it is assumed he walked.

When he was caught on CCTV arriving at the bus station, at 1.32pm, he no longer had the black holdall.

It’s possible that everything that had been in it when he arrived at the hotel had since been disposed of, in bins or other places around the town, unseen either by CCTV or members of the public. The bag looked to be a soft one; when empty, it would fold up and slot easily into a bin.

At 1.32pm the manager of the little bus-station cafe sold Peter Bergmann a cappuccino and a toasted sandwich. He sat at one of the few tables, alongside a woman to whom he did not speak.

During the time he sat at the table he took a piece of paper from his pocket and wrote something on it. Then he tore it up. Like virtually all of his other belongings, it was never retrieved. The cafe at the station closed last year.

“On that particular day I was returning from a break just after two o’clock when this gentleman approached me and asked about the bus to Rosses Point,” says Vincent Dunbar, who was the depot inspector at Sligo bus station.

The gentleman was Peter Bergmann. He knew that the next bus to Rosses Point left at 2.40pm but not which bay it left from, which was the subject of his question to Dunbar.

There were in fact three buses after the 2.40pm service that served Rosses Point at the time. But Peter Bergmann, although he had taken a taxi out to the beach the previous day, was now instead focused on making the 2.40pm bus. It was to emerge later that he did not have a reservation at any hotel or other accommodation in the vicinity.

“You’d think he was maybe just going to meet somebody, or going on business,” Dunbar says.

“I learned afterwards he went for a swim, but he didn’t strike me as a man that was going for a swim… the way he was dressed and what he was carrying with him. If anyone was going for a swim you’d usually know: they’d have a towel rolled up and togs rolled up,” he says. “He wasn’t like that at all. He looked like a man that was on business.”

Peter Bergmann did not thank Vincent Dunbar for his help. “He just turned and walked away,” he says. “He just looked like a man that was stressed or in pain or not himself.”

That June day the temperature reached 17 degrees in Sligo, and many people came to Rosses Point to swim and walk the beach. There was to be one high tide, at 12.06pm, at a height of 3m over the average low-water mark. The next high tide was to be at 12.25am.

The Sligo bus dropped off its passengers at 3pm at the stop outside the Yeats Country Hotel. Nobody at the hotel ever recalled a tall thin man dressed in black coming in for a coffee, or food, or to use the bathroom.

At 4pm Peter Bergmann was seen on the beach with a black bag over his shoulder. At 5pm he was seen near the yacht club at the far left of what local people call the first beach.

A sign close to the first beach points to a place that has existed for more than a century: Deadman’s Point. This is the small headland that extends out towards Coney Island, or Inishmulclohy. There’s a story to the name, and like so many stories in Sligo it’s one with a Yeats connection.

The story goes that a seaman from another land died as his ship was entering Sligo Bay and was left behind and buried there, as the crew did not want to miss the tide. Oceans carry many superstitions; the seaman was buried with a loaf of bread and a shovel, should he wake again.

Inspired by the story, Jack B Yeats painted Memory Harbour; the Yeats brothers often holidayed at their uncle’s house at Rosses Point, Elsinore, which is now in ruins.

At 9.10pm Peter Bergmann was seen by two women, carrying something; they weren’t sure what it was.

At 9.30pm he was seen on the beach by Dermot and Paula Lahiff, a husband and wife who had driven from their home to watch the sunset.

“We were parked at the upper car park,” Paula says. “There was this man walking parallel to the shore. He had his trousers rolled up to his knees, and he was wearing a black jacket and he was kind of plodding ponderously along.”

By that time of the day the crowds on the beach had dissipated, so the people who remained were more noticeable. Dermot Lahiff was watching the sun go down as he sat beside his wife in their car. The man with the black jacket was crossing back and forth against the spot where the sun they had come to watch was going down; it was illuminating him in silhoutte.

Dermot Lahiff describes the man they later knew as Peter Bergmann as “stepping very deliberately” when he paddled barefoot through the water’s edge, “one foot, then the other.” It struck him “how strange his movement was, and it appeared to me to be some kind of a ritual in his procedure from right to left”.

Lahiff recalls being suddenly struck by scenes from growing up, in Galway. “It reminded me of old photographs I would have seen from my childhood in Salthill; country folk visiting the beach, bathing with their trousers rolled up.”

At 10.30pm Peter Bergmann was seen by a member of the public with a plastic bag and wearing his glasses.

At 11pm he was again seen, by a different person, with a plastic bag.

Ten minutes later he was seen, still wearing his glasses, sitting on one of the benches that overlook the first beach.

The final sighting of Peter Bergmann while he was alive was by a woman at 11.50pm. He was carrying a plastic bag, and walking along by the edge of the incoming ocean. High tide was to arrive within half an hour.

At 8am on June 16th the man found on the beach near Deadman’s Point was pronounced dead at the scene by Dr Valerie McGowan. His body was taken to Sligo University Hospital to await an autopsy the following day.

Terry MacMahon and his colleagues from Sligo Garda station remained on Rosses Point beach, searching for the rest of the clothes and footwear that had clearly been discarded somewhere. They discovered a pile of clothes on a rock on the beach, clothes that matched the description of what witnesses were to later say they had seen the solitary tall thin man wearing the previous day; clothes that no other swimmer ever came to reclaim.

“It was as if he had taken off his shoes and then taken off his socks and then put his socks into his shoes and then his trousers, and then I think there was a kind of black V-neck jumper, and they were all folded nice and neatly one on top of the other.”

The clothes had had their labels cut out, as had the three items of clothing the dead man was found wearing, although the name of some brands remained.

The clothes and items in the pockets that were found on Rosses Point beach that morning are still in storage at Sligo Garda station, in a large cardboard box with a label on the lid that reads: “Clothing/Personal Items of Unidentified Body found at Rosses Point on 16/06/2009”.

It’s a long time since anyone looked at these clothes that Peter Bergmann folded so carefully and left on a coastal rock at nightfall all those years ago.

When the items are lifted out of their storage box, sand starts to fall from the T-shirt Peter Bergmann was wearing when he was found. Tiny grains from Rosses Point scatter across the desk, each one a bright point of light.

This is what was recovered from the beach by the Sligo gardaí.

The clothes Peter Bergmann was wearing: a navy T-shirt; a pair of navy underpants; a pair of Speedo-type swimming trunks, with pink and purple stripes; a waterproof quartz watch, found on his left wrist.

Found on the rocks were: black leather Finn Comfort shoes, size 44, manufactured in 2002 in Germany; dark socks; a black leather C&A jacket; navy C&A chino trousers; a black sleeveless Tommy Hilfiger jumper; a black leather belt, called Key West USA, made in Italy.

Distributed in various pockets were: €140 in notes and €9 in coins, in an envelope; a packet of tissues; 55mg of asprin tablets, made by Bayer, manufactured in the Czech Republic and distributed in Germany; Hansaplast sticking plasters; a bar of hotel soap in an unopened blue plastic wrapper printed with Mild Soap, Hotel Care. (When subsequently investigated, it was not of a brand made or stocked in any hotels in Ireland.)

Not found among the possessions were: Peter Bergmann’s glasses; the 10 82c stamps he had bought in the post office; the long-sleeved blue shirt he was wearing when he left Sligo City Hotel; the black shoulder bag; the purple plastic bag.

There was no ID of any kind. He had not been asked for any ID when he checked in at the hotel.

“They are obliged to ask for ID,” says John O’Reilly. “The legislation is very clear. All hotels and B&Bs; legally, they are obliged,” he stresses. “Do they do it? I think we both know they don’t.”

Although the man who gave his name as Peter Bergmann was not asked for ID at the hotel, he did have to fill in his details on its guest register. The home address he gave was Ainstettersn 15, Wien 4472.

There is no such street as Ainstettersn in Wien, which is to say Vienna. Austria does have a postal code system, in operation since 1966, using combinations of four digits, but Vienna’s codes run only from 1000 to 1901. The address Peter Bergmann gave was a fabrication.

He ended his surname in the register with two Ns. The usual spelling in German is with one N.

Clive Kilgallen conducted the autopsy on Peter Bergmann on Wednesday, June 17th, 2009, at Sligo University Hospital. Its results, which were not made public until the inquest on April 14th, 2010, contained two unexpected pieces of information.

Even though the dead man had been found washed up on the Rosses Point beach, the pathologist found no sign of “classical salt water drowning”. All the evidence had seemed to point towards a man who waited until darkness to go swimming, perhaps with the intention of never returning. But he had not died by drowning.

Peter Bergmann had had terminal prostate cancer; it was so advanced that Kilgallen believed he could not have been unaware of his illness. It had spread to his bones, chest and lungs. Kilgallen estimated the prognosis was “weeks at most”.

The cause of death was given as acute cardiac arrest, or, in layman’s terms, a heart attack. There was a standard toxicology report, but, as is usual, it did not test for a range of banned substances.

By the time the inquest came around, the man known as Peter Bergmann had been buried in an unmarked grave in Sligo cemetery. Six people were at the funeral on September 18th, 2009, including the undertaker and the man who dug the grave, Brian Scanlon.

“For me, as a person working in the cemetery for 30 years, it doesn’t matter if there are six people at the funeral or 600,” says Scanlon. “It’s a box that comes in the gate and has to be lowered into the ground. And that’s the way it’s been with me for a long, long time. I don’t really have any emotions around funerals. I have seen too many of them.”

The plot in which Peter Bergmann is interred was bought by the Health Service Executive to bury unclaimed bodies. It can take three people. There was already one other body in there, but there won’t be a third.

“I have been instructed not to add anyone else in now, in case he has to be exhumed. In case anyone comes forward,” Scanlon says.

When mid-June turned into late June in 2009, the gardaí covering the case had gradually realised two things. One was that nobody was coming forward, looking for their missing family member or friend.

The second realisation took a bit longer: that the man found dead on the beach had given a false name and address, that he had gone out of his way to conceal his identity, and that he appeared to have planned to disappear at sea in Sligo – a plan that the tides or fate or unknown circumstances had prevented.

Once it became evident that Peter Bergmann was not the dead man’s real name, it was clear this was a very different kind of investigative challenge for the Sligo gardaí, and their international colleagues at Interpol.

It was, for instance, impossible to ascertain how he arrived in Ireland, and where he entered the country. The name he gave did not appear on any passenger manifest, and for foot passengers on ferries from Britain there were no identity checks.

“Normally we deal with the opposite complaint, where we have people who go missing and we can’t find them,” says Ray Mulderrig, the current detective inspector in Sligo. “This one is different, in that we have a person but we can’t fully identify who he is and we can’t return his body to his immediate family.”

Dozens and dozens of folders, in boxes held at Sligo Garda station, detail the thousands of hours spent on this case, trying to establish the true identity of the man who called himself Peter Bergmann. At one point 10 people were working on the case. There are clear images of his face, both alive and dead – a face no one has yet to publicly claim recognition of.

The case will remain open until the day – if it ever comes – when Peter Bergmann is finally identified. He didn’t suddenly emerge from some time-warp underworld in Sligo on June 12th, 2009. Nobody gets to be close to 60 without gaining friends, colleagues, neighbours and acquaintances along the way, let alone a possible family. At the absolute least, he was someone’s son.

In Mulderrig’s view, the entire scenario was “a deliberate act. It’s not someone in a state of panic or crisis. It is someone who knows exactly what they are doing and why they are doing it.”

So many questions remain about Peter Bergmann and the choices he made at the end of his life. Why Sligo? Why dispose of all his belongings? Why give a false name and address? Did he ever post those 10 letters, and, if so, who were they to? Did he intend to die by drowning? How did his cardiac arrest come on? Will anyone who knew him ever come forward?

John O’Reilly, the detective inspector in Sligo-Leitrim at the time, has since moved on to be chief superintendent in Cavan-Monaghan. Unlike Garda staff who get promoted, the cases they worked on don’t leave the jurisdiction. But it’s one O’Reilly has never forgotten.

“It is one of those mysteries, and it has created so much curiosity and speculation in so many places over the years, including my own mind,” he says. “There are so many unanswered questions that will probably never be answered, but the one I would love to get answered is, Who was Peter Bergmann?”

BREAK==========

When Weird Darkness returns…

That story is up next.

<COMMERCIAL BREAK>

STORY: HAUNTS AT WOLF CREEK INN==========

Wolf Creek Inn is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

The Wolf Creek Inn today is a bed and breakfast, a restaurant, an event center for community and private activities, and a museum of early Wolf Creek, local attractions and the times of the famous guests who stayed at this authentic 1883 inn. This historic Wolf Creek Inn is a two story, 1883 Classic Revival style Inn made of white clapboard, and has the distinction of being the longest running inn and restaurant in Oregon history. Owned by the state of Oregon and run by Oregon Parks and Recreation, 5 year leases are granted to innkeepers who take care of the place, run the b and b inn and restaurant, and other events that take place in the inn and on the property.

The restored exterior was well done by area craftsmen and builders. The main original building has a “classic long, double veranda with multiple entrance doors”. The Classic Revival style was popular when inns and Taverns were being built in the 1900s, especially in the western states and territories. The slightly newer 1925 southern wing also was designed in the Classic Revival style.

Walking into the entry way, the visitor sees the central staircase that nicely separates the men’s and women’s parlors, and leads up to the second floor guest rooms.

The reception area is where the old wooden gentleman’s bar once stood, but was mysteriously taken out just before the state started to restore The Wolf Creek Inn. The Ladies and Gentleman’s parlors were each furnished with Victorian furniture, period pianos and large fireplaces.

The southern wing, rear wing is where the kitchen and dining room are located, with the ballroom directly upstairs on the second floor. The dining room has dark, wooden tables, with views of the landscaping. The ballroom on the second floor is large, and has been used for many past events, and present ones as well. People have rented this space for many different kinds of events and receptions. City of Wolf Creek used it as a council meeting room, etc. When motorists got stranded because of snow storms, the ballroom became a dormitory for 15 very tired people, who slept on cots.

Items, such as hand-made mining picks, and photo exhibits of its history and the history of Wolf Creek and surrounding areas of interest can be found throughout the inn, especially on the second floor. Many of the walls have photo galleries of yesteryear hanging for all to enjoy.

There are a total of 9 original guest rooms on both the first and second floor. The rooms on both floors have antiques from various eras, yet are made comfortable with modern amenities, such as heat, air conditioners, private bathrooms, comfortable mattresses, but no TV, or dvd player. It truly is like stepping back into the past. However, “WiFi is now available to our guests at no charge. Each guest will be served a full hot breakfast in our dinning room. Guest Room 3 is handicap-friendly with two twin beds and a walk-in shower.”

The modern guest needs to remember that inn rooms built in the 1900s were not as large as today’s modern hotel rooms, but if you are staying here, you wanted to stay in a historic inn!

Where the celebrities and authors who have stayed is made known, and some even have rooms named in their honor. Mary Pickford stayed in a smaller room on the first floor. The queen bed suite on the second floor is the largest room, and has its own verandah. Clark Gable and Carol Lumbard stayed here when they came for a restful stay.

Another second floor room, named after Jack London, is where Jack and his second wife stayed many times. It is like a “museum quality exhibit”, portraying how the room was set up for Jack. In his honor, this room is presented much as it would have appeared when Jack found rest and inspiration here, plus a few modern amenities, like heat, air conditioning and a private bath. One guest mused, “It is like sleeping in a museum exhibit.”

The Wolf Creek Inn sponsors its own events as well, such as Winemaker’s Dinner Event, Live Music at the Inn, Oktoberfest, Actors, Authors and Antiques and Crawdad Festival. they also are chosen to be the venue for weddings, receptions and other special private events.

In the Siskiyou Mountains, right next to the bumpy, dusty Stage Coach Road, along the historic Applegate Trail, The Wolf Creek Inn’s original structure was built in 1883 to be a stage coach stop, by an enterprising farmer & merchant pioneer, Henry Smith. Originally called “The Wolf Creek Tavern”, Henry built his tavern and inn at a very choice spot, that insured it would be an inn with full occupancy, and with plenty of people stopping by to eat and drink as well.

Travelers going from San Francisco to Portland, a grueling 16 day trip, stayed at Wolf Creek Inn. It also served local traffic to area mines and stage travelers connecting between Roseburg and Redding prior to the completion of the Oregon and California railroad through the Siskiyou Mountains in 1887. Besides offering tired Stage Coach and buggy travelers a “first class traveler’s hotel”, in a restful location, the train connection that was completed at Wolf Creek also brought in more people, on their way to San Francisco, Portland, or other places; like local mines, and “Gold Rush Country”. It was known for it’s great hospitality and a place to rest and enjoy a great meal or two.

Henry Smith did very well for himself, and became a large landholder, planting a lot of orchards. The apple and pear trees next to the Wolf Creek Inn, north of the dining room are part of one of his orchards, planted in 1885. Being well over 125 years old, they must have been well taken care of over the many years.

In 1925, owners John and Dinky Dougal did a lot to improve the establishment, motivated by the increased number of travelers wanting a place to eat and spend the night, because of the arrival of Pacific Coast Highway to Wolf Creek, in 1922. They expanded the “L-shaped” inn, by adding the southern wing, being careful to use the original Classic Revival style architecture. The southern wing was home to the new guest rooms, that would accommodate more guests, and a bigger kitchen that was needed to handle the demand for meals.

To catch the eye of hungry travelers and make it easier to arrive up to the Wolf Creek Inn, Dougal constructed a semi-circular driveway, and put up promotional gateway signs on eye-catching arches, announcing the name of the inn and that they had “tasty cuisine.” The Dougals became well known for their warm hospitality and fantastic chicken dinners, complete with all the trimmings.

The Dougals started their family here as well. Dinky Dougal gave birth to their daughter, Jane, in the Mary Pickford Room. As an elderly woman, Jane came back and visited The Wolf Creek Inn, sometime after the Oregon State Parks Dept. began running it. She enjoyed and remembered some of the pictures on display, and told some stories of her own. Wolf Creek got its name from the number of wolves who lived around the area at the time. Jane recalled that the aroma from her mother Dinky’s cooking in the kitchen brought the wolves into their yard, perhaps hoping for a snack. Because of the large wolf population in the forest, guests were given chamber pots to use during the night, as using the outhouses wasn’t a great idea, because the company of wolves would be bit too adventuresome for the average guest. The last wolf that was encountered near Wolf Creek Inn was in 1956.

The Dougals ran their inn and restaurant until 1935, when they sold the property to the next owner, who also did his or her best to keep up the inn’s fabulous reputation. New kinds of guests discovered The Wolf Creek Inn throughout the years, keeping it’s business lively and profitable.

Besides weary travelers, artists and writers also discovered The Wolf Creek Inn, starting at the turn-of-the-century, as a great place to relax, get inspired and enjoy the local outdoor sports. Jack London loved the Wolf Creek Inn, which became a favorite retreat for him. He loved to hike on the paths through the old-growth forests that surround the inn, and found the atmosphere of the inn conducive to writing. He and his second wife spent a whole summer here, when he wrote a short story, entitled, “The End of the Story,” and finished a novel, entitled “Valley of the Moon”, that was published in 1913; three years before he died too young because of kidney disease.

During the ’20s,’30s and up to 1975, actors and actresses loved to escape the pressures of the Hollywood rat race, and enjoy a mini-vacation at The Wolf Creek Inn. Orson Wells, an outgoing soul, kept the other guests entertained by telling them stories of his own travels. Clark Gable made friends with the innkeeper, and stayed there many times with his wife Carol Lombard. Clark liked to fish from the near by Rogue River. Besides Orson Wells, Clark Gable and Gable’s wife Carol Lumbard, other well-known guests were Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, Sir Anthony Hopkins, President Rutherford B. Hayes, and Sinclair Lewis.
Many other people involved with television and making a movie also stayed at The Wolf Creek Inn, from the ’40s through 1975. John Wayne stayed here during the filming of ROOSTER COGBURN, in 1973; a sequel to the film, TRUE GRIT. The cast of a western TV show, “Gunsmoke”; (1955-1975), also stayed there many times during the shooting season, as “Gunsmoke” was shot at a ghost town called “Golden”, that was only 3 miles from the town of Wolf Creek.

By 1975, Wolf Creek Inn was really showing its age, and was in need of a boatload of restoration money; a lot more financial investment than the average inn owner could afford. The state of Oregon came to the rescue, and bought this property. Aided by a federal grant, the Oregon State Historical Preservation Office experts in historic architecture, construction and furnishings worked enthusiastically on this historical fixer upper opportunity. These dedicated folks studied such things as the original floor plans, furniture and wall coverings, getting the details correct. Local skilled craftsmen and carpenters spent 4 years restoring the inn to how it looked in the 1920s, “repairing roofs and rebuilding brick chimneys complemented long-forgotten crafts such as combing—a decorative painting technique—used to simulate a red oak finish on some of the interior trim and doors.”

The final touches included selecting original period and reproduction furniture, and arranging the vast amount of photographs and items of interest from Wolf Creek’s past throughout the inn. Everyone involved did a fabulous job, restoring and presenting The Wolf Creek Inn as a piece of history; a historical museum/inn/restaurant; three in one! Henry Smith and John and Dinky Dougal would be very pleased at the outcome; so are apparently some other folks as well that are in spirit form.

Only two of the entities that are staying at The Wolf Creek Inn have been positively identified. Below are some possible reasons why the known entities and the other unknown ones like to stay here.

Sometimes the entities of people in the arts and writing like to visit or stay in a place where they felt the most productive, or have happy memories creating something of value.

Entity of Jack London has decided to spend his after-life in The Wolf Creek Inn, and perhaps visits the forest he loved.

People who love special places where they go to relax, be entertained, enjoy great food with friends and family, while alive, like to go to these places after they pass over.

Entities of Past owners and employees who enjoyed their years at their establishment or place of work like to stay or visit, keeping an eye on the living.

Sometimes entities like to visit a variety of places in small towns that they enjoyed while alive. Three entities were probably local residents or frequent visitors when alive.

People who die expectantly often don’t want to admit their death, and want to continue on with their plans, as they loved what they were doing in life.

Is the place still haunted? A BIG YES INDEED! At least 3 spirits and probably a beastie of sorts;(or a mentally ill entity who wants to appear that way) visit or stay at The Wolf Creek Inn.

Personal experiences plus some hard evidence certainly point to spirits who love The Wolf Creek Inn, and are benign in nature, and protect the guests and owners from the odd spirit who visits as well. Besides the many personal experiences reported by guests and owners throughout the years, many investigators have caught EVPs, backing up some of the experiences of the living.

Of the entities seen or experienced, a stage coach driver died here at the Wolf Creek Inn. Her identity was a surprise, because she pretended to be a man in order to be allowed to drive the stage coach. Her apparition has been seen, walking around the main floor, perhaps helping to keep an eye on the living, and readying herself for driving her next stage coach run. Her voice has been caught on EVPs as well.

Another entity is that of the famed author, Jack London. His apparition has been seen in the room named for him, probably honored and pleased that he is being remembered in this way. His voice has also been heard here as well.

While these are the most well-known entities, others have been reported. Such as the entity of a young woman. Could be a guest, an employee or part of the owner’s family. She has been seen in the Clark Gable Room, and her voice has been caught on EVPs.

There is also the entity of an older gentleman. Could be a former owner who loved the place. He has been seen as well within the Wolf Creek Inn, and has been caught on EVPs as well.

The most terrifying entity reported however, is a vampire-like creature. Perhaps a woodland entity, or a male entity with mental issues, who wants to be seen as a creature. This creepy entity has been seen on occasion walking around the inside of the hotel by guests and owners alike. It has fangs, with blood around its mouth. It is believed to have bitten a guest, but this wasn’t authenticated. It has been basically well-behaved, as the other spirits probably do their best to kick him out.

On April 12, 2012, an investigator, Madonna Merced; Ghost Tracker, walked around various rooms and hallways of the Wolf Creek Inn, with a digital movie camera, inviting spirits to talk into the mike as she took her tour. She caught several intelligent EVPs as the spirits followed her around. One of them was “YESSS!” Another was an answer to a statement: Madonna said, “I am at The Wolf Creek Inn.” The spirit voice responded in an EVP: “Yes, you are!” Apparently some ghosts have a sense of humor.

Paranormal group, P.R.E.Y. also investigated The Wolf Creek Inn, and covered the place with equipment.

They had personal experiences and caught 5 EVPs. “BEULA” was uttered by one entity – perhaps, this could be the name of that female stage coach driver?

Also heard was “IT HAPPENS!” – in a high female voice, different than the Beula voice. Perhaps a younger female? The utterance of “YESSS” sounds like an older female or male.
A woman singing has been heard.

The word “CONVERSATION” was heard in one recording. They also caught three ghost box voices saying: “DON’T LEAVE”, and a cheery older man’s voice saying, “GOOD MORNIN’!”

SHOW CLOSE, CREDITS, A LITTLE LIGHT, AND A FINAL THOUGHT==========

Thanks for listening. If you like the show, please share it with someone you know who loves the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters, or unsolved mysteries like you do! And please leave a rating and review of the show in the podcast app you listen from – doing so helps the show to get noticed! You can also email me anytime with your questions or comments through the website at WeirdDarkness.com. That’s also where you can find all of my social media, listen to free audiobooks I’ve narrated, shop the Weird Darkness store, sign up for the email newsletter to win monthly prizes, find other podcasts that I host, and find the Hope in the Darkness page if you or someone you know is struggling with depression or dark thoughts. Plus if you have a true paranormal or creepy tale to tell, you can click on TELL YOUR STORY – or call the DARKLINE toll free at 1-877-277-5944. That’s 1-877-277-5944.

All stories in Weird Darkness are purported to be true (unless stated otherwise) and you can find source links or links to the authors in the show notes.

“Scariest Experiences of Ghost Hunters” by Amanda Ashley for Graveyard Shift

“Haunts at Wolf Creek Inn” posted at HauntedHouses.com

“The Peter Bergmann Mystery” by Rosita Boland for Irish Times

Again, you can find links to all of these stories in the show notes.

WeirdDarkness™ – is a production and trademark of Marlar House Productions. Copyright, Weird Darkness, 2022.

Now that we’re coming out of the dark, I’ll leave you with a little light… “Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.” – Isaiah 53:4-5

And a final thought… “You make mistakes. Mistakes don’t make you.” – Maxwell Maltz

I’m Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness.