DOLLY DEAREST and 17 More Scary True Paranormal Horror Stories! #WeirdDarkness (DARK ARCHIVES DOUBLE TROUBLE EPISODE!)

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IN THIS EPISODE: (DARK ARCHIVES DOUBLE TROUBLE EPISODE with stories from August 07-08, 2018) *** In June 1977, three young campers were brutally murdered in their tent, creating a mystery that has never been solved. (The Camp Scott Girl Scout Massacre) *** Every day a six-year-old has some kind of paranormal experience, something different every day. Is it a ghost, or just her anxiety? (Ghost Or Anxiety) *** A little girl comes across something bizarre when she gets up in the middle of the night for a drink of water. (Strangers In My Kitchen) *** A woman feels a presence sneak onto the bed with her. (Something Climbed Into Bed With Me) *** A George Michael song unleashes something creepy. (Careless Whistler) *** A college student keeps hearing footsteps in the hallway outside the door of his apartment – with no explanation. (The Scuffing Sounds At My Apartment) *** A father phoning home to warn a wife that he will have to stay late due to a meeting at work… only he turns up seconds after the call has ended. (A Strange Phone Call From The Future) *** Terrified residents of a rural Oregon town are reporting hearing an unearthly loud shrieking noise piercing out from the surrounding countryside at night that no one can explain. (The Mystery Shrieks of Oregon) *** In a quiet hamlet north of New York City, darkness grew. From a shining Utopia to a terrifying asylum. (The Chilling Story Behind New York’s Letchworth Village) *** The grisly history of Bobby Mackey’s nightclub includes murder, suicide, and rumors of Satanic sacrifice. (Honky Tonk of Horrors) *** Dr. Adolph Ruth disappeared in rugged mountains in search of lost treasure. Seven months later the finally found his body – as well as a cryptic letter. (Adolph Ruth and the Dutchman’s Gold) *** A group of friends decide to rent a trailer together to live in… but one of them almost instantly regrets it. (Demon In The Trailer Park) *** Sightings of Bigfoot or Sasquatch are prevalent in the Americas, but it appears Asia may have a similar beast. (Big Foot And The Gang) *** A boy comes across a beast in the woods – but not a beast of fur, walking on two or four legs. This one wasn’t even an animal. (Walking Tree Man) *** A woman dying of cancer in the hospital mysteriously appears to her son at home, and he wasn’t the only one to get a visit. (A Haunting And a Dream) *** A family shopping at a yard sale bring home something very non-family-friendly. (Dolly Dearest) *** Joe Metheny started out looking for his runaway wife and son, but ended up on a revenge-driven killing spree, turning his victims into burgers. (Joe Metheny: The Human Burger Meister) *** The 1954 novel “Lord of the Flies” was fiction – but in 1790 something very similar happened for real. (The Real Lord of the Flies)
“Adolph Ruth and the Dutchman’s Gold” by Troy Taylor:
“Demon In The Trailer Park” by Juan Guzmen, submitted to
“Walking Tree Man Encounter” by Michael:
“Honky Tonk of Horrors” by Theresa Argie and Eric Olsen:
“A Haunting And a Dream” by Howard Whipple submitted to
“Dolly Dearest”: (link no longer available)
“The Real Life Lord Of The Flies” by Joanna Gillan:
“Bigfoot And The Gang” by Pinka:
Joe Metheny: The Human Burger Meister” by Katie Serena:
“Ghost or Anxiety”:
“The Mystery Shrieks of Oregon” by Brent Swancer: (The shrieks heard at the beginning of this episode were from the video “Strange Sounds In Forest Grove Oregon” by Jeremy Morgan:
The Chilling Story Behind New York’s Letchworth Village” by Stephanie Almazan:
“Careless Whistler” submitted by Joe to (“Careless Whisper” instrumental guitar was played by Alexandr Misko:
“Something Climbed Into Bed With Me” submitted by Kim G. to
“The Scuffing Sounds at My Apartment” by Sam Spence:
“Strangers In My Kitchen” by Claire Carter:
“A Strange Phone Call From The Future” by Jan Davis:
“The Camp Scott Girl Scout Massacre” by Troy Taylor:
Background music provided by EpidemicSound and AudioBlocks with paid license. Music by Shadows Symphony ( and Midnight Syndicate ( is also sometimes used with permission.
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I always make sure to give authors credit for the material I use. If I somehow overlooked doing that for a story, or if a credit is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll rectify it the show notes as quickly as possible.
***WeirdDarkness™ – is a registered trademark of Marlar House Productions. Copyright © Marlar House Productions, 2019.
“I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.” — John 12:46 *** How to escape eternal darkness:

Lying within the Tualatin Valley of Oregon, in the United States, just 25 miles from the major city of Portland, is the rustic suburb of Forest Grove. Originally sprouted from a farming community, the quiet town has a population of just over 20,000, and is usually a peaceful place outside of major news and the noise of the city. However, in 2016 the usual quiet was rudely broken when terrified residents of the rural town began to report hearing an unearthly loud shrieking noise piercing out from the surrounding countryside at night that no one could explain, and which would go on to generate national news and baffle experts.
To those who heard it, the sound was described variously as being a shrill squeal, a flute-like blare, the screeching of car brakes, a steam whistle, a mechanical scream, metal scraping against metal, an off-kilter siren, or a banshee like moan, but it was agreed by all that no matter what exactly it sounded like it was a truly intense and nerve-wracking racket which purportedly kept people awake and was said to drive pets nuts. The weird noise was also described as coming from the trees, from backyards, and even from the middle of the street, and no one could quite figure out where or what it was emanating from. The story was propelled even further into the mainstream consciousness when a video made by resident Paula Lynch was released purporting to contain one of the mystery shrieks, and the Internet went nuts trying to figure out what it was. One Dave Nemeyer, fire marshal of Forest Grove Fire and Rescue, investigated and said of it: *****It’s definitely a horrendous noise. I have no idea what the noise is. [The resident] described to us that it was coming from the middle of the street. To me, it sounds like the sound of train tracks, that metal screeching sound, but there are no train tracks near her home … so that’s obviously ruled out.*****
Several other people began to come forward with their own recordings of the anomalous noise, which supposedly typically lasted from 10 seconds all the way up to several minutes, and the whole mystery deepened further. It was widely thought that the sound perhaps came from some broken pipeline or leak, but when this was checked out it was found that the sound did not really match this audio signature. For their part, Forest Grove Public Works and the gas company Northwest Natural denied that the sound could be coming from them or a ruptured gas line, and that even if it had it would have absolutely released a strong odor of gas, and the fire department also put to rest the idea that it was coming from a fire alarm somewhere. The Department of Forestry also said that whatever it was did not originate from them. Additionally, the nearby train tracks are rarely used, and authorities explained that this could not be the origin of the sound either. Some suggested that pranksters could have been behind it, but there was no evidence of this. Forest Grove Police Capt. Mike Herbs said of the noise: *****There would be a city ordinance violation if somebody was creating a noise like this, that late at night, on purpose to annoy people. At this point, we don’t have information that would lead us to believe that’s the case. It sounds to me like some kind of release valve or some kind of pipe that’s under pressure. We’ve had different suggestions from folks that it’s an alien mother ship or a warning sign of something to come.*****
Yes, of course aliens come into the picture. The wilder theories included that the sound was made by UFOs or that it was the wailing of some strange creature or entity like a ghost or Sasquatch, or even the portentous trumpeting of angels from Heaven. Indeed, whole forums were dedicated to the unexplained noise, where there were theories ranging that it was produced from vast underground bases and government mind control experiments, to the inscrutable activities of government installations or more paranormal explanations like ghosts and UFOs. Whatever it was, the mystery shriek of Forest Grove was all over the news on websites, in newspapers, on news shows, and on TV programs such as Inside Edition and World News Tonight.
Then, almost as suddenly as it appeared the noise stopped and the town was quite again. In the void of silence left by the lack of the mysterious squeal, the speculation has continued and theories remain rampant, with people of all opinions sticking fast to their own ideas on what it could have been. The most rational explanation is still that this was some sort of problem with a pipe or a valve, and a physics professor at Forest Grove’s Pacific University, an Andy Dawes, has thrown in his two cents by saying: *****An audio analyst from Florida emailed me a fairly detailed report that certainly agreed well with the hypothesis that it came from a faulty valve within an HVAC (or heat pump) unit. If the original source was a failing valve, then it may have gone away completely when the failure was complete.*****
Is that all this was, some leaky pipe? Or was there something more to this? Was it perhaps something beyond our ability to rationally explain? Whatever it was, the mystery shriek of Forest Grove has never been solved, and continues to baffle all who hear it. Considering that it has not been heard since, there is the very real possibility that we may never know what caused it, but for now it seems as if the residents of the area can rest easy. At least for now.

About a month ago I was sitting outside around a fire ring with my wife and her parents. We were cooking food and talk, having a good time and fighting off the occasional mosquito. In between topics I would look down at my phone to check Facebook. You know how you watch one video, then you’re stuck in a stream of videos that you can’t escape? I was trapped. I was finally released from my slide down the rabbit hole when my wife asked me what I was listening to in my phone. It was an acoustic guitar rendition of George Michael’s Careless Whisper.
This cover was very well done, and it caught my wife’s ear. I handed her the phone so she could see the video. When the song ended she gave me the phone back, and I turned my phone off, so I wouldn’t get trapped in the rabbit hole again.
We reached another pause in our conversation when I signed to everyone to stop talking. Faintly, but clearly I heard something from behind me and off to my right. It was a person whistling. I heard it clear as day. My wife and in-laws were looking at me strangely as I held my hand up, continuing to signal that I needed silence. The whistle wasn’t just a single sound, or a few notes, it was whistling the instrumental intro to Careless Whisper. I was hearing someone mimicking the song that was just playing on my phone moments earlier. The problem is, my phone isn’t loud enough to have been heard from 20 feet away, let alone the 80 feet needed to stand, so as to not been in my line of sight.
In the direction that I heard the whistle, there are a line of bushes that boarder my property. The back porch light of my house was enough to illuminate my whole backyard, up to those bushes. So anyone there would have been on the other side of the bushes, placing them far beyond the audible range of my weak phone speakers. I was alarmed to say the least. Best case scenario was that someone was standing close enough to my backyard to hear my conversation and the music on my phone, when no one should have been that close. Or something weirder was happening. Needless to say, I made sure all entry points to the house were covered, and made sure my 12 Gage had one in the chamber that night.

Thank you for allowing me to share my story with your site. I read regularly and wanted to share an experience I had during college. I was living in London sharing a flat with my friend Johann. One Friday he was out with his girlfriend—and I was home alone with a book. I was celebrating and wanted to just relax and enjoy my reading time. As I lay in bed I started to hear the sound of feet scuffing up and down the hall outside. I ignored it and kept hearing these scuffing feet. It was almost as though whoever was out there wanted me to know they were there. I called out, “Johann are you home?” Thinking Johann might have returned early. No reply. I got up, opened my door and looked. There was nobody there. I went back to my book… puzzled.
A few days later went back to my parents and stayed with them for a week. We had a great time and I returned to college. Nothing else happened for a long time and then one night I was home alone, and the scuffing happened again. This would happen many times during my stay in the apartment. I never actually saw anyone, I never felt anything, but I heard the scuffing of feet along the hall. I asked Johann and he said he thought it was me. I thought it was him. I actually think something was going on in that apartment but whatever it was didn’t bother me.

In the early 20th century, a group of revolutionary thinkers sought to change the way mentally and physically disabled people were treated. They envisioned humanistic care, a stark change from the cold institutionalism and crowded almshouses of the previous century. In 1911, a sprawling treatment facility espousing these ideals opened.
Letchworth Village seemed like a step in a new direction. The center encompassed 2,300 acres of property in the rolling hillside of Rockland County, New York. There were sections for children, adults, and the sickly. There were dormitory buildings, places for worship, a bakery, and more. Those who were physically able grew and harvested enough food to feed the community.
At the time, patients were classified into three types of “feeble-mindedness”: idiot, imbecile, or moron. Families sent loved ones to Letchworth with the hope that these individuals, including many children, would receive adequate care. Those who were usually cast out now had a home. Letchworth Village was a marvel for its time—until everything changed.
Overcrowding—the institution was home to about 1,200 by 1921, then about 4,000 by the 1950s—and a lack of funding ate away at the model facility, transforming it into a nightmare mental institution. What was supposed to be a peaceful, rehabilitative setting became chaotic, dangerous, and abusive. As early as 1921, rumors began to spread about the ill treatment, abuse, and gross neglect of adult residents and sadly, even the children.
Living conditions were bleak. There was not enough space for Letchworth Village’s growing number of residents. Mattresses lined the halls and common areas to accommodate the masses. Residents were unclothed and unclean, some even covered in their own feces.
The youngest of inhabitants were malnourished, sickly, and frail. Others died of illness or malnutrition. Abandoned NYC reports that the brains of the deceased were sometimes removed, and preserved in formaldehyde-filled jars for research.
In addition, the facility performed medical experiments on patients without consent. In 1950, the live virus polio vaccine was tested on an eight-year-old child as if he were a lab rat. Nineteen more patients, likely unwilling and certainly unable to give consent to the procedure, became human test subjects. Though the trials were unethical, the polio vaccine was a success. Perhaps this helped people overlook the growing problems at Letchworth Village.
In 1972, Geraldo Rivera shined a light on Letchworth Village in an in-depth report for ABC News. The facility eventually closed for good in 1996, and its buildings slipped into disrepair—becoming a ghost town. A somber tribute to the unfortunate souls who lost their lives at Letchworth can be found at the end of Call Hollow Road. A cemetery filled with graves mark the remains of the dead of Letchworth Village. A memorial stone bears the inscription “THOSE WHO SHALL NOT BE FORGOTTEN” and lists hundreds of names. Grave markers bear only serial numbers assigned to the dead.
Today, ghost hunters and daring trespassers report high paranormal activity on these eerie grounds. Paranormal investigators have experienced temperature changes in certain buildings. Spooky sounds include children’s laughter and furniture moving along the floor. Orb sightings abound. One visitor reported the sensation of being pinned to the ground and unable to move. It seems the spirits of the tortured and abused are unable to find peace even in the afterlife.

“I remember a strange thing that happened when I was a kid. I don’t think there was anything paranormal about it but it was still strange and unsettling. I woke up in the middle of the night and wanted some water so I got up to get some. When I walked into the kitchen there were three to five adults standing in a circle in the dark talking quietly. I stopped and just looked at them for a while and they stopped talking and looked at me. I thought maybe they were my dad’s friends even though he wasn’t with them and I didn’t recognize any of them. Eventually I decided that must be the case and continued on without speaking to get my water and go back to bed. As soon as I lost interest in them they lost interest in me and went back to their conversation. I never told my dad because I was too afraid he would tell me he had no idea who they were. They weren’t any of his friends that I’ve met before or since but nothing was taken that I know of and we weren’t harmed so I decided to keep it to myself. It makes me uncomfortable thinking about it.”

My husband always tells a story from his childhood that I wanted to share on your site. His parents were both professionals. His mother was a teacher and his father was an architect who worked for a fairly large company. One evening they were waiting for his dad to come home from the office and the phone rang. His mother apparently just made comments like, “understood,” and “see you later.” Then the call ended, and she started to put the meal on the table for the family. Just as she finished my husbands father walks in the door and sits down for dinner. My husband remembers her staring at him and saying, “well that meeting went quickly!”
He was puzzled. But he just sat down and ate his dinner.
Years later on his mother explained that the call had been from someone who sounded like my father-in-law and this voice had told her that he would be late from work due to an extra meeting everyone in the office had to attend. Apparently, it was so lifelike because she could hear other voices from the office in the background. Voices she recognised like his best work friend guffawing in the background over some awful joke. The funny, and creepy, tagline to this tale was that a few weeks later that exact same thing happened. Father-in-law did call home and did have to stay late for a meeting and she heard the exact same background noise. My fathers-in-law best friend guffawing in the background.

On June 13, 1977, Camp Scott, a Girl Scott camp that was located in Locust Grove, Oklahoma, opened for its 49th season – the season that would turn out to be its last. At some point in the dark of that same night, three of the young campers were brutally murdered in their tent. The bodies were discovered by a counselor the next morning, beginning a period of horror and tragedy, and creating a mystery that has never been solved.
Before that terrible night in 1977, Camp Scott was a magical place for the girls who came there for summer retreats. It had been offering hiking, crafting, swimming, and much more for Brownies and Girls Scouts since 1928. Its 410 acres accommodated 140 campers and 30 staff and the Cookie Trail Road led to 10 camping sites that were scattered throughout the woods. The campers were allowed to pick their “camp buddies” and each ten was 14 x 12, with a base constructed of wood and covered with canvas. There were two bunk beds with mattresses inside of each tent. There were no lights inside of the tents. Aside from the campers’ flashlights, the only source of light at night were kerosene lanterns that were hung near the tent’s latrines – which made the killer’s work even easier.
The tent further from the counselor’s units was “Kiowa” tent. In June 1977, it was the temporary home to three young girls: Lori Lee Farmer, 8; Michele Guse, 9; and Doris Denise Miller, 10. On the day of their murders, the girls had boarded a bus in Tulsa and made the 40-mile trip east to Camp Scott for a tw0-week stay.
Near midnight on June 13, camp counselor Carla Willhite heard some sort of strange, guttural sounds in the dark quiet of the camp. Finding nothing amiss, she returned to her bunk. The next morning, around 6:00 a.m., she was on her way to the showers and discovered the bodies of the three girls from the Kiowa unit. They had been pulled from the tent, beaten, strangled, sexually assaulted, and left for dead. Two of them were stuff inside of their sleeping bags. The third was left, partially clothed, on the trail nearby.
No one could have known that the horrific events were going to occur – but there had been ominous warning signs that something was not quite right at Camp Scott. Two months before the camp had opened for the season, counselors were there for a training session. While it was going on, one of the tents was ransacked and a handwritten note was left behind, warning that three campers were going to be murdered. The note was believed to be a joke and it was thrown away.
One week before the murders, a local rancher reported that his house had been burglarized, and it was later determined that some of the stolen property was likely used in the crime.
When Carla Willhite was startled awake on the night of the murders, she roused another counselor in her tent, Dee Elder, and asked if she had heard a strange sound. She hadn’t. Willhite went outside with her flashlight to look around and heard the sounds again. But when she turned the flashlight toward the woods, the sounds stopped. She walked the tents and, finding everything quiet, she returned to bed. Later, others would claim to have seen strange lights and to have heard cries in the night. One said that she heard a girl crying for her mother.
None of the warning signs were enough to save Lori, Michele, and Doris.
After the bodies of the girls were discovered, the camp directors, Barbara and Richard Day, alerted the highway patrol. Law enforcement officers flocked to the scene. Many of the hardened men, fathers themselves, were moved to tears. One office later recalled that the scene was like “being in church.” Everyone spoke in a whisper and quietly collected evidence from the scene. It was believed that Lori and Michele had been struck and killed in the tent and Doris had been taken into the woods, where she was murdered. There were bloody marks on the wooden floor of the unit, where the killer had tried to wipe away evidence with a towel and a mattress cover. The bloody rags were stuffed into the girls’ sleeping bags.
The rest of the campers were put on buses that morning and sent back to Tulsa, not knowing why they were being sent away. The news of the murders reached Tulsa, but the names of the victims were not released, so parents had no idea if their daughters would be stepping off the bus or not.
Items stolen from the camp were found in a nearby cave, along with photos and other evidence that eventually led investigators to name Gene Leroy Hart as their prime suspect. Hart had a long history of violence, with convictions for burglary, rape, and kidnapping. He had last been paroled in 1969 but, soon after, was tried in Tulsa for more burglaries and was sentenced to 50 years in prison. He had escaped prison several years before the murders – and had vanished.
Hart, a Native American of Cherokee ancestry, had been born and raised in Locust Grover and knew the area well. He managed to avoid the police, hiding out in the Cookson Hills region, for almost 10 months before he was captured. When Hart was brought to trial, many of his family members and area residents believed that he was innocent. They raised money for his defense and supported him at trial. The truth was that Hart was a rapist, a kidnapper, and was known for being violent. Evidence linked to him was found near the camp, but nothing at the murder scene could be directly tied to him. His trial took place in Pryor, Oklahoma, in March and April 1979, but the jury could not find conclusive evidence to link him to the murders. He was acquitted, although jury members stated that they did not necessarily believe he was innocent, only that the prosecution was unable to prove it. Hart returned to prison anyway, to finish out his previous sentence, as well as additional time for his escape. Two months later, he died of a heart attack.
Over the years, as technology has changed, the evidence in the Camp Scott murders has been tested – and tested again. Unfortunately, all of the tests have proven inconclusive and it’s likely that it will never point to any one suspect. Sadly, the murders will probably never be solved.
No Girl Scouts ever again walked the trails or slept in the tents at Camp Scott. It never reopened after the murders. It was essentially abandoned as it stood and remains out in the woods, serving as an eerie reminder of a terrible tragedy – and the stolen lives of three little girls.

I have experience many ghostly encounters, some not so great and others that weren’t so bad. One that sticks out to me this day that now makes me question if it was even paranormal or just an anxiety attack. This particular experience happened when I was around 6 but didn’t last too long.
We moved into a nice mobile home, my mom, her boyfriend and my aunt. My grandma, other aunt and uncle lived down the road from us. My other aunt and I went to school together. I usually got up at 6:30 for school but I loved my sleep so I sleep all the time I could, which is why I noticed something was off when I would wake up around 5 in the morning randomly throughout the week. I would wake up with with my covers off me and sometimes with a feeling that someone was sitting on the bed next to me. I could feel the bed sunk in like someone was on the bed. There would be a cold spot, I was always too scared to look but one night I looked but saw nothing.
Each day was different, but it didn’t get better. I would wake up with someone whispering to me but to see no one around. I went back to sleep. The next day I told my aunt about what I’ve been experiencing, she told me it might just be dreams. My family believe in ghost and demons very much from their experiences. So I thought she knows what she’s talking about.
I just shrugged it off thinking it was a dream until on school days it would keep me up. I stayed awake and end up getting up due to me having to get ready for school. I was scared and mad at the same time, I didn’t get to sleep much but I knew what ever kept me awake was real. I frequently got sick and had to stay home quite a bit from school.
I was on Christmas break and my grandma stayed the night. I remember she told me the next day that I scared her last night. I told her I had no idea what she was talking about. A few years later it got brought up, she said she was watching tv and saw something in the corner of her eye and turned her head at it. It was me crouched down, my arms crossed on the arm of the couch next to her, my head rested on my arms while I stared at her smiling. She said she asked me what am I doing out of bed and in response I just giggled. The tv suddenly got louder and she grabbed the remote to turn it down so no one would wake up. She looked back at me but I was gone. She went to my room and saw me asleep in my bed.
I have no history of sleep walking or anything of the sort. The scary early mornings continued and got worse to the point where I would go to my mom’s room to sleep. Sometimes it helped but other times I would stay up staring at the her bedroom door, hearing someone walk to it.
On a weekend at 5 in the morning I woke up from whispering around me (female and male) I saw no one but continued to hear them. I stared at a blanket that hung over my window and looked over the Japanese writing that was printed all over it. My head began to hurt, the blanket seemed to keep going close then back away from me and I notice everything was and it wouldn’t stop. I suddenly heard a female whispered my name right in my ear. I jumped out of bed hearing whispering all around me continuously. I tried going to my aunt but her door was locked, I headed towards my moms room and felt dizzy and saw shadows all around me. At this time the sun was out a little but enough for me too see my whole living room. I covered my ears and squeezed my eyes shut, kneeling down crying. I was so scared and didn’t know what to do. I yelled in a teary way ‘PLEASE STOP’. Right after I opened my eyes and it all suddenly stopped. My mom heard me and called out to me. I stood up and stayed there for a bit, crying.
I didn’t tell my mom much, I don’t know why. I maybe thought she wouldn’t believe me or I was just so relieved it stopped. I stayed in her bed while she slept for the few hours of the early morning. I looked at the door, it was opened, I saw a white sort of figure. I didn’t feel scared and I stared at it and it disappeared in front of me.
Nothing more happened in the remainder of years we lived there. I would at times hear the floor creak and doors close. My other family members experienced the creaks and doors with me. But nothing more.
I’m still wondering to this day what exactly happened, what does it mean? And I wouldn’t think it would just suddenly stop.
My grandma would cleanse the house to make things better.
Was it just an anxiety attack? I have been diagnosed with Anxiety for 8 years and had many anxiety attack’s but none like this one, no voices no shadows no waking up at certain time. I just don’t know what it was.

I had a couple of paranormal experiences back in 1999. I was dating a guy that lived in a one level duplex that was split for his side and then other side of the duplex. There was no one living on the other side and this duplex which was really old. It had wood panel walls and a window air conditioning unit. Pretty shabby but cheap. I would just come stay the night on the weekends. We would go hang out with friends and stay out late and come back and crash in his bed. One night we were sleeping and I felt something crawling on top of the covers on me really fast! Like it started at the foot of the bed and decided to crawl up to me on top of the covers. I raised up really fast and it was dark so I couldn’t see anything. My boyfriend was still asleep beside me. I was so scared that I didn’t want to get out of the bed and turn on the lights. I just stayed in the bed and moved as close to my boyfriend and held on to him. I don’t know when I fell back asleep. I told him about it the next day and of course he didn’t believe me. He told me that I probably had a nightmare. I knew what I had felt and that was no nightmare. Then another night I stayed at his house and we were asleep and someone smacked me in the back of my head. I woke up and looked around and of course no one is there but my boyfriend who is asleep facing away from me. He was a heavy sleeper. I was feeling the back of my head and trying to figure out what the heck happened! I was too scared to turn on the lights so I snuggled up to my boyfriend and held on to him. I told him what happened the next day and he again told me that I had a nightmare. I told him that I was not having nightmares and that these things were happening to me when I stayed at his place. His brother came over one day and they went up in the attic and there was a bunch of clothes for kids. I know that whatever climbed on top of the covers on me was small. I told them that I didn’t want to see what was in the attic. They thought it was funny but I was freaked out. It is so funny how people try to explain away any weird or strange thing that happens. I didn’t like staying there anymore. Luckily he and I found a place to live together so he moved out and we moved in to our new place. I don’t what happened in that duplex but something in there liked to mess with me. Has anyone else had a similar thing happen to them?

Pitcairn Island is one of four volcanic islands in the southern Pacific Ocean that make up the Pitcairn Group of Islands. Located more than 3,000 miles (4830 km) from any continent, approximately halfway between New Zealand and the Americas, it is one of the remotest inhabited islands and the least populous national jurisdictions in the world. It is also the last British Overseas Territory in the Pacific.
Measuring just 2.2 miles (3.6 kilometers) from east to west, the island is not much larger than New York’s Central Park. Yet this tiny dot in the ocean has a long and varied history, culminating in the dramatic events beginning in the 18 th century.
The history of the Pitcairn Islands stretches back at least nine centuries, when the islands were colonized by Polynesians. Their culture flourished there for four centuries before mysteriously disappearing. Archaeological findings also suggest that different people from various points of origin came to Pitcairn at different times in the past.
When Europeans first landed on Pitcairn and nearby islands, they found many artifacts and traces of former inhabitants, including roughly hewn stone gods guarding sacred sites, representations of animals and humans carved into cliff faces, petroglyphs, burial sites with human remains, earth ovens, stone adzes, gouges, and other relics.
Although the origin and subsequent destination of the Polynesians is not certain, it is generally believed that they came from Mangareva, some 490km to the north west in French Polynesia.
In 1788, the HMS Bounty sailed from England to the Pacific to collect breadfruit plants to supplement the diet of slaves in the West Indies. Having stopped in Tahiti for some 5 months, the crew of the Bounty became attached to the sexual freedoms and paradisiacal ways of the Tahitians, and were reluctant to leave. When Lieutenant William Bligh instituted harsh punishments for lack of discipline among his crew, Acting Lieutenant Fletcher Christian gathered a band of disaffected crew members to launch a mutiny against Bligh.
On 28 th April 1789, just 23 days after leaving the sensual pleasures of Tahiti, the mutineers seized control of the Bounty and set William Bligh and 18 loyalists adrift in an open boat.
William Bligh completed a voyage of more than 4,000 miles (6,500 km), eventually reaching England in April 1790, and immediately despatched the HMS Pandora to apprehend the mutineers. Meanwhile, Christian, along with 9 of the mutineers and 18 Polynesians – 6 men, 11 women, and 1 child – sought out a new home where they would be safe from capture. They arrived on Pitcairn island on 15 January 1790, where they burned and sank the Bounty, (still visible today underwater in Bounty Bay). To the rest of the world, the mutineers had seemingly vanished from the face of the earth.
The settlers initially survived on Pitcairn by farming and fishing. However, like the famous novel Lord of the Flies , it was not long before isolation, along with lack of government and societal rules, led to the emergence of jealousy, treachery, and murder.
Many of the tensions revolved around the lack of women on the island.  Five of the mutineers were murdered by Polynesian men, who believed the British crew members were treating them as slaves and taking their women. In retribution, the remaining mutineers killed the Polynesian men.  Two mutineers, Edward Young and John Adams, believing their lives were in danger from mutineer Matthew Quintal, executed him for the ‘well-being’ of the community.  Another mutineer, William McCoy, committed suicide while drunk on locally distilled beer. A few more of the island’s inhabitants died from illness.
By 1800, just ten years after settlement, all the Polynesian men had been killed, and only one mutineer remained (John Adams), as well as 9 Polynesian women and 19 children.
John Adams turned to the scriptures for a new and peaceful society and brought up the children according to strict Puritanical morality. He lived on Pitcairn island until his death in 1829 aged 65. He is the only one with a known burial site. However, researchers began searching for the remains of other inhabitants in 2016. They started their search under the town hall in Adamstown because local legend suggests there may be an old cemetery there. Locals were especially interested in finding the bones of Fletcher Christian. The possible remains of Edward Young may have been unearthed already; bones were found while an electric cable was being laid, however no DNA analysis was completed at the time to find out if they really belonged to the mutineer and the grave was covered over again.
In 1808, following 18 years of isolation, Pitcairn and the mutineers’ presence on the island was rediscovered by the American sealing ship Topaz. Six years later, British ships HMS Briton and HMS Tagus unexpectedly called at Pitcairn. After the rediscovery of Pitcairn, John Adams was granted amnesty for his part in the mutiny.
The population of the island began to expand as visitors arrived and settled on the island, while others became shipwrecked and marooned on its shores and decided to stay.
In 1838, Pitcairn Island became a British colony, and by this time was following the beliefs of the Church of England. However, in 1886, the Seventh-day Adventist preacher John Tay visited the island and converted the islanders, including the Polynesians, to accept his faith. To this day, the islanders of Pitcairn remain dedicated Adventists.
The new religion brought peace to the island and it seemed the violence and treachery of Pitcairn had come to an end.  However, an investigation just over a decade ago revealed that evil still resided on the ill-fated island.
In 2004, 7 men – more than half the adult male population of the island – were charged with 96 counts of abuse, including rape and sexual assault, mostly against children. Some of the charges dated back four decades. The month-long trial revealed a deep-rooted culture of abuse, incest, and gross indecency on the island. After extensive trials, most of the men were convicted, including the island’s mayor at the time. The British Government set up a prison on the island and the men began serving their sentences in 2006.
Today, just 47 people remain on Pitcairn, most of them the descendants of the mutineers and their Tahitian consorts. The majority carry the surname Christian, after the mutiny leader Fletcher Christian, who fathered numerous children before his murder.
What was once seen as a safe haven and island paradise, still carries a dark cloud for its long and sordid history.

A friend of mine got this doll from a yard sale a couple of years ago. At first, everything seemed fine. The doll didn’t move, or speak, or do anything. About a month later, she noticed the doll had moved. At first, it only moved a couple of inches. Then, slowly, it started showing up around the house. Things would disappear, and the family would find items by the doll.
One time, as my friend was doing her homework, she heard a door slam on the third floor. She was home alone and found the doll in the bathroom where the door had slammed shut. Things then took a violent turn. One morning, she woke up with three long scratches down her back.
When I went over to her house, I felt a heavy presence. When I was about to leave, I felt a warmth on my back and soon discovered a fresh scratch about 5 cm across. My friend had no pets, so it couldn’t have been that. The scratch stretched from my shoulder blade to my lower back.
Another time, my friend was almost hit in the head with a glass that flew out of the cabinet. After that, enough was enough. She sold the doll on eBay and made $20. The events stopped, but she stayed with me for a few nights.”

Back in 2008 I started a construction job in St. James parish LA. After living out of hotels for the first two months, a couple of friends of mine and I we decided to look for a trailer park and rent a mobile home. After a while we found a park with a few trailers and found one to rent. A few things I didn’t like about the place was that we were in a swampy area, big nasty trees, poorly lit , and terrible cell phone service but hey I wasn’t complaining.
The first few days were great, had my room set up with my things, rented furniture for the living room and kitchen. After about the fourth day I was laying in my room just about to doze off when I heard a tapping sound coming from the floor of the trailer. I brushed it off thinking that a may have been a raccoon or a dog looking for something to eat. Went to work the next day and when I returned I noticed that all my drawers in my room were opened along with closet door. Again I brushed it off thinking that my room mates were messing with me. Later that night in bed I heard the sound of my door opening, I opened my eyes and it was opening slowly. I yelled to my friends to stop, that I was trying to sleep. This started to happen quite often and I became concerned because they swore up and down they weren’t doing it.
The one that really startled me was one night as I was sleeping I felt my legs starting to bounce as if someone was jumping on my bed, then my whole body started to bounce, I tried to open my eyes but couldn’t , I felt my body going higher and higher until suddenly it stopped. I was still, finally I could open my eyes… when I did I was face to face with the ceiling of my room! I dropped back down to my bed and all of a sudden there was a demon standing over me, he was black with long dreadlocked hair and wild crazy eyes, he bent down to where it and I were face to face, he began to snarl/laugh at the same time. All I could do was lay there, petrified almost. I could feel the bed shaking as it moved around. After a few seconds it disappeared, I felt a sudden burst of energy and bolted from the room running down the hall way to wake everyone up and tell them I wanted to get the hell out of there.. They laughed at me and said I just had a nightmare. That was the last time I saw the demon spirit although the noises continued. Eventually one of my room mates left and I decided to take the room he was in.. the strange occurrences continued, one of the guys said he saw a little girl standing at his door way one night. Another worker of mine told me that his son was being bothered by a young boy that would come out of his closet at night, he stayed in a trailer across the street from me.
Another worker of mine who stayed three trailers down said he would hear foot steps in the hall way while he was sleeping and sometime would feel as if someone or something was touching his head at night.
Not sure how old the park was or the history of the place but apparently these things were going on for a while. I used to pay this young boy to maintain the yard for a few bucks and decided to ask him if he had any issues as I did. His reply was YES! So long Louisiana!!

The story I share today is what my brother experienced at his annex in Kaduwela, Sri Lanka. My brother is studying software Engineering at SLIIT, Malabe. Him and four of his friends rented a house in Kaduwela like most of the other students. It’s a two storied huge house. The top floor is half way done and there’s no grill / rail to be seen because the balcony is half done. The house is located at a open area and there are no other houses close by. The house has a huge garden (it’s not a beautiful garden with flower and trimmed grass, the garden looks exactly like a garden of an abandoned asylum) and behind the house there’s a marsh land.
Me and my boy friend often give lifts to my brother because he’s working as an intern at a software developing company close to where I work. When we go to drop him I never got down from the car because that house always creeps me out. My boy friend went inside only once and said he’d never go inside again. Because, and I quote ” They live like pigs, I shall never return to that pit”. I can’t blame him knowing how lazy my brother is when it comes to the cleaning department lol and to live with four other dudes which I assume are in the same boat (Bleh)! The owner of the house according to my brother is in his mid thirties and he bought the house for a good price few years back. He never took action to finish the ongoing construction. The whole house is fully tiled and only the finishing touches has to be done. His whole purpose to purchase this house to be rented.
My brother and his friends moved to the new place early morning because they had lectures in the afternoon. The land lard provided them 5 beds and that was all he could give. After arranging their stuff all morning (I’m going to go ahead and call my brother “big foot” and him and his friends “the gang”) the gang left the house to attend their afternoon lectures. The university is close by so the first few days they walked or hired a Tuk Tuk (a small vehicle with 3 wheels only. An easy way of transportation used in South Asian countries.)*. After they left the house on their way they’ve met an uncle who happened to live on the same road and have asked in a friendly manner where the gang resides, So the gang pointed the house and to their surprise the uncle told them that for the past year three families moved and soon left after 2-3 weeks. The gang shook it off and went their way to the university.
About my brother; He’s younger than me and our age gap is 1 year and 4 months. We are best of friends and partners in crime since childhood. He’s 5’11 and weigh more than 100kg I guess because he looks like a living pumpkin. I call him big foot out of love! He’s one of those guys who is very shy and quiet around relatives and family friends, but explodes historically around only our family and his friends. He listens to metal and has grown his hair and a huge beard as well. He looks tough but he’s a very sensitive lovable adorable simply a good human being. A vegetarian, a nerd, minds his own business and very, very, I mean very, protective about me. We talk everyday on the phone and we meet at least twice a week apart from the lift we give him to the creepy house.
Back to the story. The first day at the new house the gang slept in one room because the beds were arranged in one room and they were too tired to move the beds to other rooms. There were 3 bed rooms on the first floor and 2 bedrooms on the second. So the first day they spent on the ground floor, they went to bed past 11.00PM. According to my brother they were chit chatting in the dark with other friends about “Guy Stuff” they could hear a noise up stairs. They thought the sound was caused by rats. Soon they realized it was the light switches going on and off, on and off for few times. They kept the room door and the windows open because they didn’t have fans and usually nights are typically warm in Colombo. In front of the bedroom door there was the stairs which leads to the top floor and there was no rail to that either. As soon they heard the switches go crazy they kept quiet and listened. One of the brave guys, NOT my brother, got down from the bed and asked others if the switches are going on and off why can’t they see the light flickering? They know the bulbs have been fixed because they already unpacked their stuff in their rooms and only didn’t move the beds. The brave one wanted to investigate but remained in the room because the rest of the crew asked him to stop being Sherlock for once and sleep. The noise continued for sometime an my brother doesn’t know for how long because he had fallen a sleep soon after.
Next morning they moved their beds and inspected the house for rats and yes there were rats. My brother called me in the morning and told me about the last night incident and he wanted for me to buy him some furniture to his room. At this time he was not working. After I finished work I went to Malabe and met him somewhere close to his university. After little roaming I bought him a fan, table, chair and a small closet and some other things he wanted to groom and some things for the kitchen. My boy friend couldn’t meet us but said he will come and pick me from my brother’s place and asked me to wait there. As I told you my brother is very protective and he didn’t want his friends to see me so he unloaded his things from the vehicle and carried everything one by one by him self. I was inside the vehicle and that’s the first time I saw the creepy place and I never wanted to go inside because just seeing it gave me bad vibes. We walked up and down on the lane until my boyfriend picked me.
Next morning my brother called me and I quote “Akki* **Akki – Sinhalese term to address the “Elder Sister), stupid rats have made a mess in the kitchen. All the spoons and knives were pulled out from the rack, the milk and sugar was scattered around.” He was a little mad and asked whether I could buy him a mouse trap. Being the good big sister hearing what a mess the rats made I bought him 4 traps. All though I couldn’t imagine a rat opening a bottle of sugar and milk and scattering it all over?
Next day he said he caught one little rat.
Nothing major for few days except the crazy light switches going on and off. This happens often in empty rooms. If the gang is on the top floor the switches go nuts in the ground floor. If they are in the ground floor the top floor go nuts. When they sleep in the night the kitchen and the living room is out of control.
Days after they knew something else was living with them. They often felt being watched, their things go missing and they find those in odd places. Keys inside the shoes, brushes under the bed, shoes in the closet etc… They didn’t feel threatened by the presence. Rather, they were excited to experience something in that manner. He always bragged about how he they live with a ghost and being brave! Lol
After a month or two my brother called out freaking out to his wits. He plead and begged to come and get him. It was a Friday and very late. I can’t remember exactly the time but it was past 10.00PM. Me and my boyfriend rushed to his place and my boyfriend left me in the car and went inside. The car was stopped few meters away from the house where I can see the whole house through the windscreen. As soon as my boyfriend disappeared inside I noticed a misty shadow on the unfinished balcony. It was on the balcony and it moved to its right and disappeared. I shrugged it off and told my self it’s nothing. I was already freaked out after my brother called. After 5-10 minutes my brother came with one of his friends who was pale like a dead person and shivering like mad. They both got in to the back of the vehicle and my boyfriend appeared behind the house, he has opened the kitchen door to inspect something and was pushed out closing the door behind him. He was not freaked out but was mad to see the way the “Gang lives” Yes, ‘dirty pit’ what he calls the house! The first time he went inside.
On our way my brother said, around 7 he was studying and the fan was placed few feet away to his left. While he’s at it he suddenly felt warm and sweaty. He took his head out from the book that he was reading to look at fan to check why the wind is not blowing. To his surprise the fan is blowing smoothly but the wind is not touching him. He was confused because he couldn’t figure out what’s happening. There was nothing to block the wind and it was blowing properly few minutes back. He knew something fishy is about to happen and he’s not the bravest of them all. He ignored and mumbled “leave me alone” as soon as he mumbled the wind started to touch him again as it suppose to do normally. He said it was like someone stood between him and the fan and block the wind. The big foot was officially freaked out! After few seconds the friend who was next to his room screamed his guts out. Big foot ran out from his room and saw his friend crouched on the floor shivering. Big foot had to slap him to bring his friend back to his senses because he was muttering something out of scared.
Big foot and two other friends used the 3 bed rooms on the ground floor. The friend who screamed has to pass my brother’s room if he wants to reach the big hall, either sides of the hall was the kitchen, dining, bathroom and the stair case. He waked out from his room to go to the kitchen/ bathroom, I don’t know exactly, and saw a pale woman, her eyes were rolled up and white, her hair was loose. She had an evil smile and her head was tilted to the side, and she was standing right in front of my brothers room! She was staring at him even after he screamed and fell down and reached her crooked hand towards him and faded away when my brother came out looking for him.
Since it was Friday night the rest of the gang had gone out. Big foot and his friend clearly was not in a state to spend the night there alone.
I couldn’t see my baby brother scared and worried and in my family I’m known to be the one of the toughest girls, loving, funny and TOUGH! No one can’t mess with my big foot! So I called the land lord and I asked in a very polite way “What the $#@& is going on with that house?” Clearly there’s ghost! So I asked “who is she?” “Why she’s not at peace”? I gave a good piece of my mind to the land lord I’m not going to detail it.
He said, he bought the house for a very low price because it was on sale for a very long time, because of the location it stood no one was interested to purchase it. So he wanted to purchase it and rent it out which he did. He rented the house for new married couples and they would move out as fast as they moved in saying there’s a spirit who hates women. They were choked, pushed, slapped, dragged down from beds, locked inside the bathroom, things go missing, then he rented the house for families and the same happened especially to the females. When he came across our dumb “gang” he rented it to them happily because there are no females included. The activity was not strong as it used to be until big foot and his friend was alone in the house. The spirit wanted to freak them out and was very successful *Applaud*
The land lord said he found some information of the house and the first owner of the house built it for his family and his daughter always wanted the house for her self. Instead, in the fathers will he named his elder son to have the house. This daughter was a self obsessed lazy bum who wanted everything to her self. She was a drop out from the school, unmarried, and when the time passed she lost her senses. She was a dictator and the father knew she wouldn’t be able to look after herself. So he gave the house to his son and asked to take care of his sister because she has no one. She was angry and eventually that anger led her to hang herself, after the brother started to recondition the house. She hung her self on the top floor. Activity started soon after she passed and the brother’s family couldn’t live there. So they sold the house and left.
We got to know that the house is famous in Kaduwela because of the suicide that happened years back and the haunting. It is very difficult to find a house in that area for rent. So the gang decided to continue staying there until they finish their studies. This happened almost two years ago and they still live there. My boy friend anyhow took a priest and did a house protection for them and the gang was given a holy lime and a thread to be worn on their wrists. Every month we give them a fresh lime and a new thread. Even though the house is protected they say they still feel watched and hear noises at night.
My boy friend says it’s just their imagination, the spirit is long gone because even a spirit can’t stay in a dirty pig pit and do their thing at peace. My brother is graduating this September and soon will move out:)
I know it’s a very long story! To the peeps who reached the bottom, Thank you for reading and hope you’ve enjoyed it. Sorry if I made any mistakes. English is not my first language. Bless you all and BE SAFE!

In June 1931, an amateur treasure hunter named Dr. Adolph Ruth vanished in the Superstition Mountains of Arizona. He had gone into the rugged mountains in search of a fabulous treasure – the legendary Peralta Gold Mine – that had become known over the years as the “Lost Dutchman Mine.” Tragically, Ruth’s body was not found until January 1932, when it was discovered with a broken leg and a cryptic letter. The letter read:
“I’m sitting under a tree in a creek with leg broke. I’ve got to have help quick. Finder of this note please give to Howard Peterson. P.S. Have found the lost Dutchman.”
But did Dr. Ruth really find the mysterious lost treasure? If he did, he took the secret of its location with him to the grave.
The Lost Dutchman Mine is perhaps the most famous lost treasure in American history. It is believed to be hidden somewhere in the Superstition Mountains, east of a Phoenix, Arizona, and arid and inhospitable region that does not lend itself to casual exploration. This may be the reason that so many treasure-seekers have vanished — or have died — while searching for the lost mine. And perhaps why it has remained “lost” after all these years.
The mine is named after German immigrant Jacob Waltz, who came to Arizona in the 1860s, long after the gold mine had been abandoned. Waltz discovered the mine and allegedly kept its location a secret until his death in 1891. But like every good treasure story – there was a map, which adventurers have been seeking ever since.
There is no way to guess just how many people have died in pursuit of the Lost Dutchman Mine. Some who have disappeared may have just quietly slipped away, unwilling to admit that they failed to find the treasure. Others, though, went into the mountains secretly and just disappeared. Their names are possibly recorded as a missing persons case somewhere – and will never be found.
Others were killed – or killed others — in their quest for the treasure. Partners killed partners, men killed for their secrets, the Apache massacred white men who trespassed on their sacred land, and the list goes on.
In the summer of 1880, two young soldiers appeared in the town of Pinal. They had recently been discharged from Fort McDowell and were looking for work at the Silver King Mine, operated by Aaron Mason. They asked him to take a look at some gold ore they had found while crossing Superstition Mountain. Mason was stunned to see a bag of extremely rich gold ore. He asked where they had found it and the soldiers explained that they had been on the mountain and had flushed a deer into one of the canyons. On their way out, they found the remains of an old a tunnel and mine. This small bag of gold was only a little of what could be found there.
Mason asked them if they could find the place again and they believed they could, having been scouts for the Army and very conscious of the details of the landscape. They remembered the mine being in the northerly direction of a sharp peak (which Mason was sure was a landmark known as Weaver’s Needle) and in very rough country. A narrow trail had led from the peak and into the valley where they found the mine. The soldiers admitted, however, they knew little about mining. Would Mason go into partnership with them? He agreed and purchased the ore they brought with them for $700, then helped them get outfitted for their return to the mine. They left Pinal the next day — and didn’t return. Mason waited two weeks and then sent out a search party. The nude body of one of the soldiers was found beside a trail leading to the mountain. He had been shot in the head. The other man was found the next day and had been killed in the same manner. Apaches? No one knows. The murders were never solved.
A year later, a prospector named Joe Dearing showed up in Pinal and worked as a part-time bartender. After hearing about the death of the two soldiers, he began hiking into the mountains, looking for the mysterious mine. He was more successful in his search, but I wouldn’t say that his luck turned out any better.
According to Dearing, he had discovered the mine and that it “was kind of a pit, shaped like a funnel and with a large opening at the top”. He said that the pit had been partially filled in by debris and there was a tunnel that had been walled over with rocks. Dearing planned to work as a bartender until he could make enough money to excavate his find. He took a job at the Silver King Mine, intent on saving his money – and then he was killed in a cave-in a week later.
Over the next few decades, most strange deaths occurred in the Superstition Mountains. A local eccentric named Elisha Reavis was found beheaded near his cabin in 1896. In the early 1900s, two prospectors spent a decade looking for the lost gold mine until one of them went insane and tried to kill the other. In 1910, the skeleton of a woman was found in a cave, high in the mountains. Several gold nuggets were found with her remains.
And then in June 1931, Dr. Adolph Ruth went looking for the Dutchman’s Lost Mine. Were it not for Adolph Ruth, the story of the Lost Dutchman Mine would probably have been little more than a footnote in Arizona history as one of hundreds of “lost mines” rumored to be in the American West.
Adolph Ruth was a 66-year-old veterinarian employed by the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s Bureau of Animal Husbandry, who had a longstanding obsession for locating fabled lost treasures. Through Ruth’s son Edwin, who had been working in Mexico, Adolph came into possession of maps of mines in the Borrego Desert area in Southern California.
In 1914, Adolph and Edwin made a brief but unrewarding trip to California. They came away empty-handed, but Adolph became obsessed. Five years later, he returned to the Borrego Desert on his own. His adventure turned tragic. When his father did not return, Edwin assembled a search party. Three days after going missing, Adolph was located at the bottom of a steep ravine. Crippled by a fractured thighbone, he could only wait for rescue. His leg was so badly broken that a plate had to be used to repair the damage. His limb was shortened, leading to a lifelong limp.
But he remained obsessed with the West’s lost mines. It was an old newspaper article – titled “One of Arizona’s Lost El Dorados” – that further fueled Adolph Ruth’s desire to find Jacob Waltz’s long-lost treasure. By the summer of 1931, the lame 66-year-old was ready to set off for Arizona, despite the protests of his wife and two sons. He left Washington, D.C. in his newly-acquired used Essex and arrived in Arizona nine days later. After familiarizing himself with the rugged Superstitions, he finally set off on his quest for fame and fortune on June 13, 1931, writing to his family, “Tomorrow morning I’ll prospect some.”
He was never seen or heard from alive again.
Adolph only planned to be gone for two weeks and when he did not return, a hasty search was made of the area where he was last seen. No trace of him was found. Finally, in December 1931, a human skull was discovered in the mountains. It was compared with Ruth’s dental records and a positive match was made. The missing doctor – or part of him, at least – had been found. But that wasn’t all. There were two bullet holes in the skull. The missing treasure hunter had been murdered.
A month later, In January 1932, human remains were discovered about three-quarters of a mile from where the skull had been found. Though the remains had been scattered by scavengers, they were undoubtedly Ruth’s. Many of Adolph’s personal effects were found at the scene, including a pistol (not missing any shells) and the metal pins used to mend his broken bones. One thing that was missing? The map that Adolph had brought with him that purportedly marked the location of the Lost Dutchman Mine.
Lying near the remains was Adolph’s checkbook, which contained a letter and alleged directions to the mine. He ended the note with three words – “Veni, vidi, vici” – Latin for “I came, I saw, I conquered.”
Did the unassuming veterinarian and would-be prospector find the location of the lost mine? We’ll never know.
Arizona authorities didn’t convene a criminal inquest in Dr. Ruth’s death. They argued that Ruth had probably succumbed to thirst or heart disease. Another official suggested suicide – ignoring the fact that Adolph had been shot twice and no bullets were missing from his gun. Many people, including Adolph’s family, believed that he had been murdered for his map to the lost mine.
Whatever happened to Adolph Ruth, his story became a national sensation. The wire services picked up the news of his death and “ran it for all it was worth,” one writer noted. The mysterious tale was a welcome reprieve from the bleak news of the Depression years and it took on a life of its own, building a new legend of the Lost Dutchman Mine that continues to endure many decades later.

This is kind of a series of weird events that has happened to me. The first one happened in my first house that I lived in when I moved to Phoenix. We were renting and the company that owned it said the previous owner was an old lady that lived there alone. They said she passed away at the hospital, but I always wondered. Small things would happen randomly. The tv in our bedroom would turn on by itself. A dresser drawer would be open when you knew you had closed all of them. The weirdest thing that happened there involved my laundry. I had a couple loads I was going to wash, so I threw them all in a pile on the floor of my bedroom to sort. I walked out of the bedroom into the kitchen and passed my husband who was walking to our bedroom. Right when he got in the room I heard him ask me why I put the clothes on the ground like that. I walked back in the room explaining loudly that I threw them into a mound to sort through them, but when I walked in the room I stopped almost mid sentence. He was staring at the clothes, because they were in a perfect circle. It was as if someone had taken a circular laundry basket, placed it on the ground, and lined the clothes around it perfectly, then took the hamper away. I believe in ghosts and spirits, but I don’t get bothered by them or scared. He does though. I just kicked the clothes back into a pile and told him not to worry.
The second strange event took place a few years later at my Mom’s house. My Mom was unfortunately diagnosed with a rare cancer that ultimately took her life. I was fortunate enough to be able to take off work and spend her last month with her while she was in hospice care at her house. My Mom has a big family and all 6 of her siblings were able to come out as well. My 3 aunts would wake up incredibly early every morning to cook breakfast and start coffee and chit chat. One morning I woke up pretty early from a strange dream. In my dream I had walked into the living room and saw my Mom sitting on the couch. When she saw me she stood up, smiled, walked over to me, and gave me a hug. In the dream she told me she didn’t hurt anymore and she was so happy to feel good again. We were so happy together. When I woke, I hazily stumbled into the kitchen and got a cup of coffee to join my aunts at the dining table. My oldest aunt asked me if I was okay, because I guess I looked a little shaken. I told her I had a strange dream and told her everything that happened in it. My youngest aunt, just a few years older than my Mom was was the baby in the family, started tearing up and shaking a little. Apparently she had the exact same dream I did and had just finished telling them about it. I always wonder if it was a coincidence or if my Mom was saying bye to us. She passed away the next afternoon.

When the police arrested Joe Metheny in Dec. of 1996, they expected him to put up a fight. The man was a 500-pound lumber factory worker with a tendency to fly off the handle. At the very least, they expected resistance.
What they didn’t expect was a detailed and upfront confession, the brutality of which was preceded by Metheny’s own warning: “I’m a very sick person.”
In his confession, Metheny described to police how he – driven by an insatiable need for revenge – viciously raped, murdered, and dismembered drug-addicted prostitutes and homeless people while on a quest to find his runaway wife.
However, it wasn’t the murdering and dismembering that was the worst of his crimes. No, it was how he disposed of the bodies to cover them up.
Rather than bury or hide his victims somewhere secret, Joe Metheny chopped them up, mixed them with pork, and served them as burgers to unwitting customers from his roadside barbecue stand in Maryland.
The murders had started about two years before he was arrested.
When Metheny’s drug-addled wife took their son and left him, he flew into a rage. He spent days looking for them, checking halfway houses, and even under a bridge where he knew his wife used to do drugs.
There, he found not his wife, but two homeless men whom he believed did drugs with his wife. When they gave no indication that they knew where his wife and son were, he killed them both with an axe.
After killing them, he noticed a fisherman nearby who could have seen what he’d done. Just in case he had, Metheny killed him as well.
Though he would later turn his victims into burger meat, these first three were crimes of passion, and as soon as he realized what he’d done, Metheny panicked and tossed the bodies into the river to hide the evidence.
He was soon arrested for the murders of the homeless men and spent a year and a half in the county jail awaiting a trial. At trial, however, he was acquitted.
Thanks to his quick thinking in hiding the bodies, there was no physical evidence he had killed the two men. Now free, Metheny resumed his quest of seeking out his missing wife and child.
Though he had spent a year and a half awaiting trial, jail time had clearly done nothing to slow Joe Metheny down. Shortly after being released, Metheny murdered two prostitutes, though this time he’d had a better idea for disposing of their bodies. It seemed that he was now murdering people for sport as much as for revenge.
Instead of tossing them in the river, Metheny brought the bodies home. There, he dismembered them and stored the meatiest parts of them in his freezer, burying the unusable parts in a truck lot owned by the pallet company he worked for.
Back home, he mixed the prostitutes’ flesh with a mixture of beef and pork, forming it into neat little patties. Over the next several weekends, he would sell these little patties out of a small barbecue stand he opened on the side of the road.
For weeks, unwitting passers-by, truckers, and townies would all consume bits of human flesh, essentially becoming living hiding spots for the bodies of Metheny’s victims.
Upon his arrest, Metheny told police that no one had complained about the meat tasting funny. In fact, no one seemed to notice that his burgers had a little something extra in them.
“The human body tastes very similar to pork,” he said. “If you mix it together no one can tell the difference.”
Whenever he needed more “special meat” Metheny would simply venture out and find another vagabond. According to his confession, he killed 10 people, though authorities say there’s no reason to believe he would’ve stopped there had he not been arrested.
He was finally caught in 1996 when a would-be victim managed to escape Joe Metheny’s clutches and went to police. Eventually he was found guilty and sentenced to death, which was overturned in 2000, and changed to two life sentences. In 2017, he was found dead in his prison cell.
During his interrogation, he willingly offered up a confession, and details about each of his murders, even mentioning the murder of the fisherman which he had gotten away with several years before. He also appeared to show no remorse for what he’d done, apart from one thing.
“The only thing I feel bad about in any of this, is I didn’t get to murder the 2 motherfuckers I was really after,” he said. “And that’s my ex ole lady and the bastard she got hooked up with.”
“So the next time you’re riding down the road and you happen to see an open pit beef stand that you’ve never seen before,” he warned. “Make sure you think about this story before you take a bite of that sandwich.”

“Back in the early 90s, I went with a group to Silver Falls Springs in Oregon. One night, after dinner, I went for a stroll to find a clear spot so I can see the stars. After about 20 minutes of sitting quietly and contemplating the sky and the stars, a breeze blew through and rustled all the trees and branches around the clearing. As the wind gently shook the trees, something caught my eye in my peripheral. I looked to my right and there it was. For just a second or two, I saw what could be best described as a walking tree. Back then, I was just beginning to appreciate books. So, at the time, I haven’t read anything aside from comic books or magazines.
So, now, today, I can describe it looking like an Ent from the Lord of the Rings books/movies. Except it had more of a round head with a definite neck attached to shoulders. It’s limbs were long and thin. It could probably touch the ground if it just relaxed it’s arms down. There didn’t seem to be a distinction or separation between the torso and hip area. The legs looked like a pair of articulated tree trunks with no discernible feet. It had patches of moss randomly covering its torso and legs and was about 20 feet in height. And it was holding what could be described as a long, baseball like, club in it’s right hand going over its shoulder.
When I first turned my head to see what caught my eye while the wind rushed by, I saw it take three long and deliberate steps in a spot where the clearing met the trees. And what sent a chill down my spine and made me freeze for what seemed a moment of forever in that second was that it seemed like it turned its head and looked right at me and where I was sitting as it took its third step and reentered the forest. I just sat there for another 10 minutes feeling frozen in place going over what I just saw. Once I shook that frozen feeling, I got to my feet and went back to the cabin all of us were staying at as fast as I could. I only told one person about this after it happened and they just found it to be a nice and creepy story before everyone turned in for the night. And it still haunts me to this day when I think about it.”

In the small blue-collar town of Wilder, Kentucky, just south of Newport and across the mighty Ohio river from Cincinnati, sits one of the most fascinating establishments in the United States, Bobby Mackey’s Music World. Nestled along the east bank of the north-flowing Licking River, the iconic destination at 44 Licking Pike has something for everyone: classic country music, cold beer and hard liquor, a mechanical bull, cowboys and cowgirls, ghosts and demons, perhaps even a portal to hell.
Like I said, something for everyone.
What makes Mackey’s so intriguing is the juxtaposition of light and dark, day and night, good and evil. It is a place filled with laughter and gaiety, happiness and music—the kind of place people go to have a good time. But Bobby Mackey’s is haunted, and not just garden-variety haunted: along with a number of more-or-less benign spirits, dark things linger in the shadows, revealing themselves occasionally in shocking, even dangerous ways.
The building’s history is one of blood, murder, suicide, gangsters, gambling, showgirls, rumored Satanism, and colorful characters galore—each with a fascinating story to tell. The ground Mackey’s sits upon was contested by Native Americans for centuries. Access to the river and the fertile land it nourished was a privilege hard fought between the Cherokee and Shawnee tribes.
White settlers arrived in the 1700s and the area came to be called Leitch’s Station, after Major David Leitch, who was given land for his service in the American Revolutionary War. The “Wilder” name dates to a railroad station built by the Louisville, Cincinnati and Lexington Railway in the mid-1800s and named after a company executive. The railroad facilitated the spread of farming and manufacturing and the region prospered and grew.
A slaughterhouse was built on the site in the 1850s, where uncountable thousands of animals were “processed,” untold gallons of blood drained along with the life force from their bodies. Before the EPA and government waste disposal regulations, all this material was simply funneled through a sluice dug from the building down to the river, which ran a very creepy red each time there was a dump from the slaughterhouse.
The slaughterhouse shut down in the mid 1890s, but the land and the water seemed to have developed an unquenchable thirst for blood.
In 1896, a lovely and vivacious young woman named Pearl Bryan, 22 and pregnant, was brutally murdered and decapitated near the site. Legend has it the pair convicted of her murder, Bryan’s boyfriend Scott Jackson and accomplice Alonzo Walling, threw her head into the sluice as a sacrifice to Satan, opening a “portal to hell” that now sits uneasily in the basement of Bobby Mackey’s.
Hey, stranger things have happened.
The derelict slaughterhouse was torn down and a roadhouse was built on the spot, which became a speakeasy during Prohibition, 1919-1933. In the later ‘30s, E.A. “Buck” Brady, an alumnus of the infamous George Remus bootlegging operation, built a sleek red-and-white showpiece adorned with marble floors and crystal chandeliers called the Primrose. The club proudly featured a five-star restaurant and five floor shows a night. The Primrose was a place of celebration and life with music and dancing, food and drink.
The Primrose was so successful it drew business away from the nearby Beverly Hills Country Club, owned by Newport crime group, the “Cleveland Syndicate,” who sent in enforcer Red Masterson to “persuade” Brady to sell. Brady decided to be proactive and ambushed Masterson in a parking lot, shooting but not killing him. Masterson recovered, Brady was tried for attempted murder, convicted of a much lesser crime when Masterson wouldn’t testify against him, and realized the writing was on the wall. The Cleveland Syndicate took control in 1947 and opened the Latin Quarter Supper Club, as Brady retired to Florida.
The Latin Quarter was even more successful than the Primrose, an entertainment mecca that rivaled the finest establishments in the country. An illegal casino business ran profitably along with the fine dining and dancing. It was during this time that another legendary tragedy befell the building. The beautiful and talented Johanna, a popular club dancer, fell in love with crooner Robert Randall, who was smitten by her exotic charms.
The romance blossomed much to the dismay of Johanna’s gangster father, who forbade the couple from seeing each other. When they refused to give up their relationship, Johanna’s father had Randall killed. More blood offerings to the darkness at the club. The enraged and heartbroken Johanna tried to poison her father as revenge for her lover’s death and then poisoned herself in her dressing room in the basement of the Latin Quarter.
This tragedy, if it actually happened, didn’t deter the success of the club. The mob’s reign lasted until 1961 when authorities finally clamped down on organized crime in the area, destroying gambling equipment and shutting the club down for good.
After that, a series of seedy bars sat on the site, all magnets of sin and violence, before it metastasized into a biker bar, the Hard Rock Cafe (most definitely not affiliated with the international chain), in the early ‘70s, but a series of shootings and general disreputability eventually closed it down.
Regional country music star Bobby Mackey bought the place in the spring of 1978 with the intent of opening up a live music venue, a place for classic country entertainment, a place where he could perform whenever he wanted in a roomy but intimate atmosphere, up close and personal with the fans. It was a place he could literally call his own. But even before the doors opened to the public, paranormal activity began.
Janet Mackey, Bobby’s first wife, knew immediately that something wasn’t right about the building. She was attacked by an unseen force inside the club. Handyman Carl Lawson was a target as well, apparently possessed by an entity intent on destroying him. The apparition of a mysterious but helpful woman in white appeared outside the club, and another was reported inside.
A mysterious cowboy lurks in the basement, shadowy silhouettes peek out from hidden rooms, disembodied cries shatter the silence—anomalous happenings abound in every corner of the club. But it is the malevolent forces that are the most worrisome: the ones that pick up grown men and fling them like rag dolls across the room, scratch and push, possess and oppress.
Bobby Mackey’s Music World is rife with spirits—some say as many as 40—and no amount of cleansing or blessing will chase off the vast amount of paranormal energy that has taken root in the land and building. So come for the music, the fun, the good times, the ghosts, but be warned: this is one place where reality exceeds reputation among America’s Most Haunted.

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