Seeking new land and a new life, the Salladay family went to Ohio, but brought a silent killer with them: Consumption. Falling into odd superstitions, they believed the only way to stop the disease was to stop the undead from rising from their graves.
America’s early history is peppered with strange, somber superstitions—rituals born of fear, desperation, and a primal struggle against diseases no one understood. Among these unsettling tales is one from Scioto County, Ohio, in the dead of winter, 1816–17: the tragic and bizarre case of the Salladay family, whose hereditary affliction with tuberculosis led to a desperate, grisly ritual in the hopes of stopping death in its tracks.
It may not have earned the infamy of New England’s vampire panics, but this haunting episode stands as a potent reminder that superstition knew no borders in early America.
The Vampire Grave in Ohio: The Salladay Cemetery in Scioto County, Ohio, where Samuel Salladay rests alongside his relatives.Source
A Family Cursed by Consumption
The Salladays were Swiss immigrants, part of the wave of European settlers moving westward after the opening of the French Grant, a parcel of land along the Ohio River. It was granted by Congress in March, 1795, to a number of French families who lost their lands at Gallipolis by invalid titles. The river bottoms are well adapted to corn, and on a great part of the hill land small grain and grass could be produced and tempted settlers inland. The name Sallaway is an americanized version of the Swiss German Salathe
Not long after settling in Scioto County, the family fell prey to the disease that had terrified communities for centuries: tuberculosis, then called consumption. It was a cruel, wasting illness, slowly claiming victims with bouts of coughing, fever, and a wasting pallor that convinced many it was the work of a malevolent force rather than mere contagion.
Consumption: Before it had a scientific explanation, TB was a horrifying, slow-moving plague. It wasted the body. Victims grew pale and thin, their cheeks sunken, eyes glassy. They coughed blood. They wheezed and gasped and sometimes appeared to grow stronger just before they died, as if something unnatural were prolonging their suffering. In this time and place, a superstition that it was the work of a vampire sprung out.
After the head of the family and the eldest son succumbed, and others began showing signs of sickness, panic overtook reason.
A Desperate and Macabre Cure
In the depths of the winter of 1816–1817, the Salladay family, surrounded by fearful neighbors, turned to a folk remedy that would be familiar to followers of New England’s vampire lore: the belief that a dead family member might be preying on the living from the grave.
The “cure” was grim. They resolved to exhume one of the deceased, burn certain organs in a ceremonial fire, and do so before the eyes of the surviving family members — an attempt to sever the sinister connection between corpse and kin.
The victim of this desperate rite was Samuel Salladay (1789-1815), one of the earlier victims of consumption who had died during the fall of 1815. His body was disinterred by Major Amos Wheeler of Wheelersburg, an official of standing in the community, lending the macabre event a disturbing legitimacy. A large crowd from the surrounding countryside gathered to witness the ritual, drawn by a mixture of morbid curiosity and communal dread.
Samuel’s entrails were removed and burned upon a fire specially prepared for the rite. The hope was that the ritual would end the spread of disease within the family and grant a reprieve to those still living.
The Folly of Superstition
Unsurprisingly, this desperate act proved futile. Consumption was a highly contagious disease, passed through airborne bacteria, not through supernatural means or malevolent corpses. Despite the burning of Samuel’s remains, the remaining Salladays continued to fall ill, one by one.
In the end, only George Salladay survived the affliction, while the rest of the family perished — victims of both disease and superstition.
Today, no marker or monument commemorates the Salladay ritual, and their story survives largely through scattered historical accounts. Perhaps this was the only vampiric exhumation that happened in Ohio. Although not strictly a New England place, Ohio carried a lot of the earlier settlers by the way people moved west from the east shore, and some of the state used to be a part of Connecticut.
Samuel Salladay still rests in the Salladay Cemetery in Sand Hill in Scioto County, together with all of his relatives who were never cured from their life-draining disease.
An ancient ghost coming from the depths of graves across the nordic countries, the Haugbúi Draugr could be both dangerous and even deadly. Not merely a specter, but the rotten flesh of the dead, the ghosts are remembered as The Walking Dead of the North.
In the dark Hendrick Street in Dublin, there once were two houses said to be some of the most haunted ones in town. Occupied by at least six ghosts, some say they still linger in their old street.
In the pre civil war Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia, the mausoleum of W.W Pool is said to be the grave of The Richmond Vampire. A more recent urban legend is now also connected with The Church Hill Tunnel collapse.
Old cities carry old ghost stories, and Bern in Switzerland is no exception. From the old buildings filled with history to the depth of the Aare river, here are some of the most haunted places in Bern.
Centuries after the vampire panic starting with the death of Petar Blagojević, another vampire was said to haunt the Serbian village, Kisiljevo. Who was Ruža Vlajna and what happened to her?
Said to be the mass burial place for the dead Irish Independence rebels from 1798, the Croppie’s Acre in Dublin is said to be haunted by their lingering souls.
Once a green paradise, the legend says the fairies protected the people of Val Gerina valley in the Swiss alps. Driven by greed to impress a woman however, the son meant to continue the tradition and friendship with the fairies, brought it all down.
Haunted by its former Fellows, Trinity College in Dublin is said to be filled with eerie spirits where even the bell tolls after dark when the shadows take over campus.
A true story morphed into a fairytale, the life and death of the French Countess Marie Louise St. Simon-Montleart has become the stuff of legends. Buried in the forest close to Wildegg Castle in Switzerland, it is said she is haunting the castle and the forest, her sanctuary.
Crossing through the Jura Mountains in Switzerland, an urban legend about the ghost of a lady in white is said to have haunted the Belchen Tunnel and was widely known and written about in the 80s. Question is, is she still haunting the tunnel?
Centuries after the witch panic in Salem, New England was gripped by another entity – vampires! Thought to crawl out from their graves at night and back to their remaining family to feed and consume the life of them. This has later been known as the New England Vampire Panic The only way to stop them was to dig them up and set them on fire.
In the quiet, frostbitten corners of 19th-century New England—amid snow-capped fields and rickety clapboard farmhouses—a curious darkness was spreading. But it wasn’t witches this time. It wasn’t demons, or ghosts, or devils hiding in the woods. No, what haunted the good, God-fearing folk of Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Vermont was something far stranger.
Vampires.
Not the aristocratic, silk-robed kind with Eastern European accents. Not the seductive, night-stalking vampires of Hollywood imagination. These were homegrown, farm-dwelling, dirt-under-their-nails revenants. According to local belief, they didn’t sip fine blood from crystal goblets. They clawed their way out of graves and siphoned the life from their living kin—not with fangs, but with supernatural persistence.
This wasn’t just a gothic fever dream. It was real. It had a body count, graves empty after their families dug them up and burnt their remains to cure themselves of the curse of the undead. After it swept across the east coast, it was later called the New England Vampire Panic.
Old Graveyards: A serene graveyard in New Hampshire reflects the eerie history of vampire folklore in early New England that was gripped by fear during the New England Vampire Panic.
A Disease by Any Other Name
To understand how New England came to believe in vampires, we need to talk about tuberculosis—known in the 1800s as consumption.
Before it had a scientific explanation, TB was a horrifying, slow-moving plague. It wasted the body and if you first got infected, there was a two in ten chance of surviving it as there was no cure. Victims grew pale and thin, their cheeks sunken, eyes glassy. They coughed blood. They wheezed and gasped and sometimes appeared to grow stronger just before they died, as if something unnatural were prolonging their suffering.
The White Death: The plague of tuberculosis is a disease that has killed more people than any other microbial pathogen and mummies dating back to the 8000 BCE. Over the years, many attempts to cure it through curious means show desperation. Fresh air, bloodletting, elephant urine, eating wolf livers and human breast milk has from ancient times been tried.
It was contagious, of course, though no one knew why or how. When one family member died, others often followed. Households dropped like dominos. And so the imagination of rural folk—grounded in a stew of folklore, fear, and grim necessity—did what it does best: It reached for reasons.
They began to believe that the dead were not staying dead.
Vampire Lore: In addition to consumption being rooted in a vampiric infliction, you also had rabies that gave strange symptoms and rare genetic disorders like porphyria that gave a sensitivity to sunlight and reddish teeth. Although in the New England Vampire Panic, it was mainly tuberculosis.
The New England Outback
Exactly why New England? After all, tuberculosis was a worldwide problem, why did the vampiric panic happen here, 200 years after the witch craze in Salem not too far from where they would begin to exhume their loved one from their graves?
There are several factors of how this particular lore and New England Vampire Panic started. One has to do with numbers. After years of civil war, the number of people living in Exeter, Rhode Island for instance, had dwindled to a few thousand, scattered across small rural communities. By some, this was later known as Vampire Capital of America and had a high count of exhumations like the case of Mercy Brown.
Contrary to popular belief about being puritanical, the rural New Englanders in the 1800s were not overly religious and 10 percent belonged to church in these parts. Missionaries were sent to these parts to get them back to God’s words as they saw these rural communities living in cultural isolation from the rest of the world..
The belief of the uneducated farmers have taken hold for many in later years. But was it really so? It seems like many places like Manchester, Vermont where Rachel Burton was exhumed and burned on the town square was founded by educated and not really the most superstitious and religious men. This seems to have changed after the Revolutionary War when it was then described as a place of drinking gambling, and superstitions like vampirism.
They were however superstitious and let their beliefs fester side by side with the industrial revolution and modernisation of the society in the cities not far from their farming communities. Also as a small community, there were a lot of relations between the exhumations. Like the case of the exhumation of Nancy Young having relation through marriage to Sarah Tillinghast who was also exhumed the same way. They were neighbors, although the farms were few and far between, family and friends, and like the sickness of consumption, so did the fear of the undead spread and infect through generations and places.
The Curious Case of Mercy Brown
The most infamous case of the New England Vampire Panic took place in 1892, in the icy hills of Exeter, Rhode Island. The Brown family had been ravaged by tuberculosis. First, mother Mary Eliza died. Then daughter Mary Olive. Then son Edwin became ill and left for Colorado in a desperate bid for recovery.
And then Mercy Lena Brown, a 19-year-old girl with dark hair and a shy smile, fell sick and died on January 17, 1892.
Mercy Brown: A historical portrait of Mercy Brown, the young woman at the center of the New England Vampire Panic.
The townsfolk were suspicious. Too many Browns were dying. Someone, or something, must be behind it. They began to murmur. Maybe one of the dead was still feeding. Edwin, now barely hanging on, had to be saved.
So in March—when the ground thawed enough to dig—they exhumed the bodies.
Mary Eliza and Mary Olive had decomposed as expected. But Mercy? Her body, kept in a crypt during the harsh winter, was remarkably intact. Her cheeks had color. There was blood in her heart, clear signs she was the vampire.
The heart and liver were removed and burned. The ashes were mixed into a tonic and given to Edwin to drink. (A sentence that should never be uttered casually, but here we are.)
Did it work? Tragically, no. Edwin died two months later. But Mercy’s story endured, becoming the poster child of the New England Vampire Panic—a real-life tale so haunting that even Bram Stoker, author of Dracula, reportedly took notes.
Mercy wasn’t the only one. According to folklorist Michael Bell, there was around 80 of these types of exhumations. From Maine to Massachusetts to Rhode Island, similar rituals were performed. Perhaps as far west as Minnesota. Not always with a name. Not always with fire. But the goal was the same: stop the dead from killing the living.
The Vampire Next Door in the New England Vampire Panic
These were not “vampires” as we think of them today, but corpses with unfinished business, still feeding on their living relatives from beyond the grave. They drained vitality, not with teeth, but through a metaphysical link. The only cure? Dig up the body, examine it, and if necessary, destroy the vessel.
Some communities in Maine and Plymouth, Massachusetts, opted to simply flip the exhumed vampire facedown in the grave and leave it at that. But in places like Connecticut, Vermont and especially in Rhode Island, they took it one step further.
If the corpse was found unusually fresh, with blood in the heart or organs (a not-uncommon occurrence in cold New England graves and those buried in the winter or put in freezing crypts waiting for the ground to thaw), it was declared the source of the curse. The heart would be removed and burned to ash, sometimes the liver, kidney or other organs were also taken. Often, the ritual was done in secret, other times it was done publicly, sometimes on a blacksmith’s anvil or just on a nearby rock in the cemetery. In many cultures it was believed that the fire in a blacksmith’s anvil was a divine gift and that they had the power to banish evil through their metal and flames.
There were also some cases where vines and sprouts growing from the coffins and bodies were seen as signs of vampiric activity, like we see with the exhumation of Annie Dennett. They believed that the vine or root growing at or by the grave reached the next coffin, another family member would be sick and die. This part of the legend is a bit more difficult to trace back to a particular superstition shared with other places.
As the ritual demanded, their heart and liver were burned on a nearby rock and the ashes were mixed with a tonic and given to the sick relatives to drink. Sometimes it was also said to be smoked or the fumes from the burning were inhaled by those attending.
The Mystery of J.B: Connecticut State Archaeologist, Nick Bellantoni, was excavating the cemetery and found something no one could have expected. Among the graves, one burial in particular captured attention: a coffin marked only with brass tacks, spelling the initials “J.B. 55”. The remains inside had been subject to a post-mortem ritual that hinted unmistakably at vampire panic practices during the New England Vampire Panic. // Photo courtesy of Nicholas Bellantoni
After the ritual, it seems like the rest of the body was reburied. In Woodstock, Vermont, a father exhumed the bodies of his daughters and burned them to save his last surviving child. In Griswold, Connecticut, archaeologists discovered 29 burials in the 1990s—one with the skull and thigh bones rearranged in a skull-and-crossbones pattern. The jaw had been hacked apart. The coffin was inscribed with “JB55,” believed to stand for “John Barber,” a middle-aged man who likely died of TB. The mutilation? A post-mortem attempt to stop the spread of vampirism.
Although it is today known as the New England Vampire Panic, the people at the time didn’t use this terminology as the term was not commonly used in the community. But when the newspapers and outsiders started to look at the phenomenon, they classified it as vampire lore because of the similarities about the lore in eastern Europe dating back to the tenth century.
There are many versions about where the vampire lore that struck the New England coast around this time. According to residents of Exeter, Rhode Island, they claimed they got the exhumations tradition from the Native Americans that certainly had their own vampire lore. But what about the European connection?
Vampire Lore in the World: Although New England cultivated its own vampire belief, it certainly wasn’t the first. Across the ocean in Europe, the fear of the vampires in eastern Europe took hold in the 1700 and worked its way west. In Europe the wooden stake was said to be the thing banishing the vampire. In America, they burned their organs showing signs of vampirism.This illustration comes from an 1851 book by Paul Feval titles “Les Tribunaux secrets” and was created by René de Moraine.
In this time, there was also a Vampire panic in Europe, especially eastern and central Europe. German and Slavic immigrants are said to have brought their lore and superstitions with them in the 18th century. There were Hessian mercenaries that served in the Revolutionary War and Palatine Germans colonized Pennsylvania. There were also Germans and different eastern Europeans traveling through the area as healers, bringing with them the ideas of the undead and exhumation as a cure for the terrible diseases the townsfolk didn’t yet understand.
The Science Arrives too Late for Many
The New England Vampire Panic began to wane by the early 20th century, as germ theory and modern medicine began to explain disease in ways people could trust. TB was finally understood as a bacterial infection, not a curse.
In the meantime, there were as many as 80 exhumed graves we know of, but there were probably many more. For example, in 1862, reports of vampirism swept the community of Saco, Maine so strongly that almost every deceased resident was dug up and reburied, allegedly. Every corpse was, apparently, a suspect.
But the New England Vampire Panic hadn’t been entirely irrational. These were desperate people watching their families die horribly. They didn’t have the benefit of science. They had folk remedies, tradition, and fear—and so they reached for the most ancient tool humans possess: storytelling.
And in the dark corners of New England, those stories had fangs.
List of Vampire Cases of the New England Vampire Panic
An ancient ghost coming from the depths of graves across the nordic countries, the Haugbúi Draugr could be both dangerous and even deadly. Not merely a specter, but the rotten flesh of the dead, the ghosts are remembered as The Walking Dead of the North.
In the dark Hendrick Street in Dublin, there once were two houses said to be some of the most haunted ones in town. Occupied by at least six ghosts, some say they still linger in their old street.
In the pre civil war Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia, the mausoleum of W.W Pool is said to be the grave of The Richmond Vampire. A more recent urban legend is now also connected with The Church Hill Tunnel collapse.
Old cities carry old ghost stories, and Bern in Switzerland is no exception. From the old buildings filled with history to the depth of the Aare river, here are some of the most haunted places in Bern.
Centuries after the vampire panic starting with the death of Petar Blagojević, another vampire was said to haunt the Serbian village, Kisiljevo. Who was Ruža Vlajna and what happened to her?
Said to be the mass burial place for the dead Irish Independence rebels from 1798, the Croppie’s Acre in Dublin is said to be haunted by their lingering souls.
Once a green paradise, the legend says the fairies protected the people of Val Gerina valley in the Swiss alps. Driven by greed to impress a woman however, the son meant to continue the tradition and friendship with the fairies, brought it all down.
Haunted by its former Fellows, Trinity College in Dublin is said to be filled with eerie spirits where even the bell tolls after dark when the shadows take over campus.
A true story morphed into a fairytale, the life and death of the French Countess Marie Louise St. Simon-Montleart has become the stuff of legends. Buried in the forest close to Wildegg Castle in Switzerland, it is said she is haunting the castle and the forest, her sanctuary.
Crossing through the Jura Mountains in Switzerland, an urban legend about the ghost of a lady in white is said to have haunted the Belchen Tunnel and was widely known and written about in the 80s. Question is, is she still haunting the tunnel?
A cold day in February, the village people in Manchester, Vermont gathered in the square to stop a vampire thought to suck the life out of a young woman. By burying her up and burning her remains, they thought they could fight back the curse of the undead.
New England, with its brooding forests, craggy hills, and centuries-old graveyards, has long been fertile ground for ghost stories, witch trials, and spectral folklore. But perhaps one of its grimmest and most unsettling chapters comes from a sleepy little village in southern Vermont — Manchester, 1793 — where townsfolk turned on one of their own dead in a desperate bid to halt a creeping, invisible killer: tuberculosis.
This is the eerie tale of Rachel Burton (née Harris), a woman whose body was unearthed, mutilated, and burned in front of a crowd of hundreds, believed to be a vampire draining the life of her husband’s new wife from beyond the grave.
The Death of Rachel Harris
In the late 18th century, Captain Isaac Burton, a respected deacon in the local Congregational church, buried his first wife, Rachel Harris, after she succumbed to consumption (the old term for tuberculosis). Consumption was a slow, wasting disease — it could pick off entire families one by one in a cruel, unrelenting sweep. To early New Englanders, it made sense to suspect some supernatural culprit.
We have the story of her, told by Judge John S. Pettibone (1786-1872). Already from this source, a lot of time had passed. She was a young woman, around 20 and was buried around 1792 and described by the judge as “a fine, healthy, beautiful girl” before her death. The ritual was described in his History of Manchester manuscript from around 1860 under a section titled Tale of the Demon Vampire.
Within a year of Rachel’s passing, Captain Burton remarried, taking Hulda Powell as his second wife. But it wasn’t long before Hulda, too, began to wither away. She suffered the tell-tale signs: a persistent cough, fatigue, night sweats, and alarming weight loss. The similarity of her symptoms to those of Rachel raised superstitious suspicions. In an era without germ theory, people didn’t understand how tuberculosis spread — but they did know when a deathly pattern felt unnatural.
And in New England folklore, there was a chilling explanation for such tragedies: the dead could feed on the living.
The Vampire Cure for Consumption
According to local belief, if a deceased family member was suspected of preying on their kin, there was only one way to stop them. You had to exhume the corpse and destroy the offending organ — typically the heart or liver — sometimes feeding the ashes to the afflicted, or simply burning them in the hopes of severing the connection between dead and living.
Sources vary about when the exhumation took place. Some say it was around three years after Rachel died. Some say that it was In February of 1793, after Hulda’s health worsened, the townsfolk and Burton’s family settled on this morbid course of action. Rachel Harris’s body would be exhumed, and whatever malevolent hold she had over Hulda would be broken in a public ritual.
Accounts suggest that between 500 and 1,000 people gathered at the graveyard in Manchester to witness the ritual — an astonishing turnout for a remote colonial village, but a testament to the grip of fear and superstition on the community.
It seems like many places like Manchester, Vermont where Rachel Burton was exhumed and burned on the town square was founded by educated and not really the most superstitious and religious men. This seems to have changed after the Revolutionary War when it was then described as a place of drinking gambling, and superstitions like vampirism.
Leading the ritual was Timothy Mead, while his relative, Jacob Mead, fired up his blacksmith’s forge nearby. The chilling operation was carried out in broad daylight, with Deacon Burton, a religious leader, presiding over the spectacle.
Rachel’s heart, liver, and lungs were removed, though contemporary accounts do not detail whether there was anything particularly ‘unusual’ about the condition of her remains — though it hardly mattered. The ritual was the important part.
The organs were then placed onto Jacob Mead’s blacksmith’s forge and burned to ash in front of the assembled crowd. As the account from 1860 says: “It was the month of February and good sleighing”. The belief was that by burning the vital organs, they would destroy the vampire’s connection to the living and halt the spread of the disease.
Often in these rituals, the sick would ingest the ashes of the burnt parts, often mixed into a tonic for them to drink. It’s not explicitly said, but it’s likely this also happened here. But for what purpose? Hulda Burton died in September of 1793, just months after the gruesome exhumation. The disease had already claimed her, and no amount of superstitious ceremony could stop it.
But the ritual’s failure did little to dissuade similar practices throughout New England. The vampire panic would continue for decades, culminating in famous cases like Mercy Brown’s exhumation in 1892 — a remarkably similar incident a century later, in the same region.
An Eerie Reminder
Today, there’s little to mark the site where Rachel Harris Burton’s grave was disturbed in Factory Point Cemetery in Manchester. Time and weather have worn away many of the old headstones, and the blacksmith’s forge long since cooled.
In the cemetery, the Vermont Folklife Center put a sign and marker in 2022, commemorating the story of Rachel Harris Burton. Her grave is noticeable because of the distinctive stone that was carved by Zerubbabel Collins, which was a very famous family of carvers.
But if you find yourself in Manchester, Vermont, wandering one of its ancient cemeteries on a fog-laden evening, spare a thought for poor Rachel — accused in death, desecrated in superstition, and forever part of America’s eerie legacy of vampire panics.
After all, history’s most unsettling tales aren’t always buried as deep as we think.
An ancient ghost coming from the depths of graves across the nordic countries, the Haugbúi Draugr could be both dangerous and even deadly. Not merely a specter, but the rotten flesh of the dead, the ghosts are remembered as The Walking Dead of the North.
In the dark Hendrick Street in Dublin, there once were two houses said to be some of the most haunted ones in town. Occupied by at least six ghosts, some say they still linger in their old street.
In the pre civil war Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia, the mausoleum of W.W Pool is said to be the grave of The Richmond Vampire. A more recent urban legend is now also connected with The Church Hill Tunnel collapse.
Old cities carry old ghost stories, and Bern in Switzerland is no exception. From the old buildings filled with history to the depth of the Aare river, here are some of the most haunted places in Bern.
Centuries after the vampire panic starting with the death of Petar Blagojević, another vampire was said to haunt the Serbian village, Kisiljevo. Who was Ruža Vlajna and what happened to her?
Said to be the mass burial place for the dead Irish Independence rebels from 1798, the Croppie’s Acre in Dublin is said to be haunted by their lingering souls.
Once a green paradise, the legend says the fairies protected the people of Val Gerina valley in the Swiss alps. Driven by greed to impress a woman however, the son meant to continue the tradition and friendship with the fairies, brought it all down.
Haunted by its former Fellows, Trinity College in Dublin is said to be filled with eerie spirits where even the bell tolls after dark when the shadows take over campus.
A true story morphed into a fairytale, the life and death of the French Countess Marie Louise St. Simon-Montleart has become the stuff of legends. Buried in the forest close to Wildegg Castle in Switzerland, it is said she is haunting the castle and the forest, her sanctuary.
Crossing through the Jura Mountains in Switzerland, an urban legend about the ghost of a lady in white is said to have haunted the Belchen Tunnel and was widely known and written about in the 80s. Question is, is she still haunting the tunnel?
In the midst of a consumption epidemic ravaging whole families on the coast of New England, the Ray family took drastic measures to save the eldest son from illness. The Jewett City Vampires were believed to be behind the consumption running in the family’s veins. Could burying up the bodies and burning them keep them from feeding on the living?
Buried in the annals of Connecticut history is a lesser-known, chilling chapter of American vampire panic — the unsettling case of the Jewett City Vampires.
This grim and fascinating story unfolded in the mid-19th century in Jewett City, a quiet mill town in Griswold, Connecticut. And like many such tales, it was rooted not in mythic monsters, but in the all-too-real terror of tuberculosis, known back then by a far more ominous name: consumption.
The Ray Family: A Family Struck by Death
The story centers around the Ray family, whose seemingly cursed lineage became the focus of the town’s fear and superstition. The Rays were a large farming family that were greatly affected by the tuberculosis epidemic ravaging the coast of New England. Between 1845 and 1854, several members of the Ray family died in rapid succession from tuberculosis. In an age before germ theory, the illness seemed almost supernatural — wasting away the victim’s body, leaving them pale, weak, and sunken-eyed, sometimes for years before death.
And in those uncertain days, when science faltered, folklore eagerly filled the void.
The neighbors of Jewett City began to murmur. Surely this wasn’t natural. The idea took hold that perhaps the dead of the Ray family were not resting peacefully in their graves, but rather rising at night to drain the life from their surviving kin.
The Exhumation of The Jewett City Vampires
The first in the family to die of consumption was 24 year old Lemuel Ray in 1845. Then his father, Henry B. Ray followed in 1851 and his brother, 26 year old Elisha Ray in 1853.
The eldest son in the family, Henry Ray got the disease the year after and panic started to set into the community. Surely there was something supernatural at play?
In 1854, driven by grief and superstition, the surviving members of the Ray family took a drastic step. According to contemporary accounts, they exhumed the bodies of Lemuel and Elisha from the Jewett City Cemetery on the 8th of May. The remaining and extended Ray family together with their friends and neighbors, gathered in the cemetery to perform the ritual.
At the time, it was believed that if a body was too well-preserved — particularly the heart or vital organs — it meant the deceased was still spiritually active and preying upon the living. In such cases, the suspected vampire’s heart would be cut out and ritually burned to sever the unnatural bond.
Records from the era confirm that at least one body was exhumed and burned on a nearby hill. The hope was that this morbid ritual would stop the deaths within the family and finally lay the restless spirit to peace.
They burned the heart of the corpses in the graveyard and most likely mixed the ashes of it into a mixture for Henry to drink or ingest in some way. This was believed to protect and cure him from the vampiric feeding they believed his brother did. Or was it enough to burn their bodies to keep them rising from their graves at night to feed on their remaining family? The sources of this detail remain inconclusive.
But what happened to Henry? Some say that they don’t know and that Henry most likely lived on and that the ritual cured him. Perhaps this is because his tombstone is not right next to his brothers in the cemetery that people believe it. Other sources claim that he died the same year, only 34 years old. In addition to his demise, his own children and wife also followed shortly. Because, a little further behind his brothers and family, his grave can be seen.
Echoes of a Broader Vampire Panic
What makes the Jewett City Vampire Panic especially significant is that it wasn’t a lone case of morbid superstition — it was part of a broader phenomenon that plagued New England throughout the 18th and 19th centuries.
Between 1790 and 1890, multiple cases of so-called vampire exhumations were documented in Rhode Island, Vermont, Massachusetts, and Connecticut. All were responses to consumption outbreaks that ravaged families and small towns, where fear was a tangible, everyday companion.
The famous Mercy Brown case in 1892 was the last well-documented vampire exhumation in America, but the events in Jewett City nearly forty years earlier reflect just how widespread and desperate these beliefs were.
Modern Discovery and Legacy of Vampire Graves in Connecticut
The graves of the Ray family remained largely undisturbed until 1990, when nearby, another unsettling discovery was made — the now-famous Griswold “J.B.” vampire grave, with remains arranged in a classic anti-vampire configuration: skull and thigh bones crossed beneath it.
Though unconnected officially to the Ray family, the proximity of these two cases in Griswold illustrates just how deep the vampire panic had gripped rural New England communities. Had the Rays heard about the rituals the Walton family had done decades before? Was the contagious disease actually fear?
Today, the Jewett City Cemetery still stands, an unassuming plot of land in a quiet town. Although the original graves from the cemetery were moved in recent years because of a building project. The graves of the Ray family look like they are still buried, six feet under.
An ancient ghost coming from the depths of graves across the nordic countries, the Haugbúi Draugr could be both dangerous and even deadly. Not merely a specter, but the rotten flesh of the dead, the ghosts are remembered as The Walking Dead of the North.
In the dark Hendrick Street in Dublin, there once were two houses said to be some of the most haunted ones in town. Occupied by at least six ghosts, some say they still linger in their old street.
In the pre civil war Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia, the mausoleum of W.W Pool is said to be the grave of The Richmond Vampire. A more recent urban legend is now also connected with The Church Hill Tunnel collapse.
Old cities carry old ghost stories, and Bern in Switzerland is no exception. From the old buildings filled with history to the depth of the Aare river, here are some of the most haunted places in Bern.
Centuries after the vampire panic starting with the death of Petar Blagojević, another vampire was said to haunt the Serbian village, Kisiljevo. Who was Ruža Vlajna and what happened to her?
Said to be the mass burial place for the dead Irish Independence rebels from 1798, the Croppie’s Acre in Dublin is said to be haunted by their lingering souls.
Once a green paradise, the legend says the fairies protected the people of Val Gerina valley in the Swiss alps. Driven by greed to impress a woman however, the son meant to continue the tradition and friendship with the fairies, brought it all down.
Haunted by its former Fellows, Trinity College in Dublin is said to be filled with eerie spirits where even the bell tolls after dark when the shadows take over campus.
A true story morphed into a fairytale, the life and death of the French Countess Marie Louise St. Simon-Montleart has become the stuff of legends. Buried in the forest close to Wildegg Castle in Switzerland, it is said she is haunting the castle and the forest, her sanctuary.
Crossing through the Jura Mountains in Switzerland, an urban legend about the ghost of a lady in white is said to have haunted the Belchen Tunnel and was widely known and written about in the 80s. Question is, is she still haunting the tunnel?
Dug up after his first burial, the mysterious grave of J.B haunted New England as one of its vampire graves from the New England vampire panic. Who was this man, and what happened to make his friends and family dig him up and rearrange his bones, actually turning him in his grave?
When people think of America’s vampire folklore, names like Mercy Brown often rise to the top. But lurking deeper in the shadowy annals of New England’s vampire panic is the strange and unsettling case of a man identified only by his initials: J.B. His grave, discovered in 1990 in Griswold, Connecticut, became the centerpiece of a chilling historical mystery that hints at the desperate and fearful superstitions of rural 19th-century America.
But who was J.B? And what happened back then that was so horrifying, they had to dig his corpse up to make sure that he would stay dead?
A Grim Discovery in the Griswold Woods
In 1990, three young boys playing near a gravel pit in Griswold stumbled upon something macabre — a collection of human bones near a sand and gravel mine. When they told their mothers what happened, they didn’t believe it, but when they returned with a skull.
The police first thought it had something to do with the serial killer, Michael Ross, but they soon realized that the bones were from something much older. What was initially believed to be the remains of a modern crime victim quickly turned into an archaeological investigation when it was determined that the bones belonged to an early 19th-century graveyard known as the Walton Family Cemetery.
Photo courtesy of Nicholas Bellantoni
Connecticut State Archaeologist, Nick Bellantoni, was excavating the cemetery and found something no one could have expected. Among the graves, one burial in particular captured attention: a coffin marked only with brass tacks, spelling the initials “J.B. 55”. The remains inside had been subject to a post-mortem ritual that hinted unmistakably at vampire panic practices. The skeleton had been exhumed and carefully reburied with its head decapitated and put on the chest. Its thigh bones were placed in a cross beneath the skull — a classic “skull and crossbones” arrangement used in old folklore to prevent the dead from rising.
Photo courtesy of Nicholas Bellantoni
This was no accident. This was a deliberate act meant to keep something sinister at bay.
The New England Vampire Panic: Death’s Superstitious Grip
The grave of J.B can easily be seen together with a string of exhumations in the New England area during the 19th century as a part of the vampire panic that grew forth after a tuberculosis epidemic broke out, that made even the most logical man hunting for the undead.
During the 18th and 19th centuries, tuberculosis (then called “consumption”) was an incurable and terrifying disease. It slowly wasted away its victims, hollowing them out until death. In the face of its horrors, rural communities often turned to folklore for explanations.
One deeply held belief was that when several family members fell ill in succession, it might be the work of a vampire among the dead — a family member or neighbor who, from beyond the grave, was spiritually draining the living.
To stop them, they thought they had to dig them up and perform a ritual on the undead. Signs of vampirism were blood left in their organs, unnatural lack of decomposition, their hair and nails growing and bloated bellies, looking like they had recently fed. If some of these signs were present in the grave, they believed that they were a part of the undead and vampires. The grim solution? Exhume the suspect’s body and perform a ritual to stop them.
This often involved cutting out and burning the heart, decapitating the body, or rearranging the skeleton to prevent it from rising. The Griswold case suggests this very ritual was carried out on poor J.B who had been exhumed around five years after his death and where they removed his heart in an attempt to stop the undead from rising and feeding on the living.
Who Was J.B. and What Happened to his Grave?
Despite modern forensic analysis, the identity of J.B. remain a mystery for decades. Archaeologists and historians placed the burial in the 1830s to 1840s, based on coffin construction and burial artifacts. Forensic examination of the bones revealed that J.B. was a middle-aged man who had indeed suffered from tuberculosis. His bones bore signs of the disease’s toll — lesions on the ribs characteristic of pulmonary tuberculosis.
Photo courtesy of Nicholas Bellantoni
The practice of marking coffins with initials was common in the period, but unfortunately, no surviving burial records from Griswold matched those initials, and no contemporary accounts of a local vampire panic in the area have yet surfaced. Yet the condition of the grave makes it clear: someone believed J.B. was a threat from beyond the grave.
When scientists revisited the case, they turned to a farmer named John Barber. Next to him, where a grave marked IB45 containing a female around 45-55 years old. Could it be a family laid to rest next to each other? There was also a grave marked NB 13, suggesting a father son relationship. Something an obituary from 1826 supports. This was for the 12 year old Nicholas Barber where they also mentioned his father, John Barber. This was also confirmed through DNA testing.
Face of the Vampire: Using DNA extracted from a skull, a forensic artist created a facial reconstruction of a man believed to be a vampire from the 18th century. Using 3D facial reconstruction software, a forensic artist determined that JB55 likely had fair skin, brown or hazel eyes, brown or black hair and some freckles, according to a statement. (Image credit: Parabon Nanolabs, Virginia Commonwealth University)
Most often, the organs to those accused of vampirism were cut out and burned. Most often it was the heart, or perhaps the kidneys. Often, it wasn’t years before they dug them up, so what happened if there were no organs left?
When the townspeople opened his grave, his body was probably a skeleton already. To get to his decomposing heart, they most likely broke open his ribs to remove it, removed his head and put it back together. His heart and organs were most likely burnt. Most often the undead showed these signs of something being wrong, but what if there were nothing to take?
If there were no organs to take, the separation of the skull from the body was a part of the ritual instead, many that have looked into the case have hypothesized. The rituals craved for people to ingest the ashes of what they cremated, but we simply don’t know what really happened when they exhumed J.Bs body.
It is also said that there were no signs of tuberculosis in the other bodies found near J.B in the cemetery. So for what reason did they dig him up?
Fear Beyond the Grave of John Barber
The story of J.B. of Griswold is a chilling reminder of the power of fear, folklore, and superstition that seems so foreign and barbaric to people not believing in them. In a time before germ theory and antibiotics, death crept so relentlessly through small communities that people were willing to embrace the macabre to protect the living.
Today, the remains of J.B. are studied and preserved as part of Connecticut’s archaeological history, but his story — or rather, the silence of it — still haunts the annals of New England folklore. His grave stands not just as a testament to a forgotten life, but to the uneasy marriage of death and superstition that once gripped early America.
An ancient ghost coming from the depths of graves across the nordic countries, the Haugbúi Draugr could be both dangerous and even deadly. Not merely a specter, but the rotten flesh of the dead, the ghosts are remembered as The Walking Dead of the North.
In the dark Hendrick Street in Dublin, there once were two houses said to be some of the most haunted ones in town. Occupied by at least six ghosts, some say they still linger in their old street.
In the pre civil war Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia, the mausoleum of W.W Pool is said to be the grave of The Richmond Vampire. A more recent urban legend is now also connected with The Church Hill Tunnel collapse.
Old cities carry old ghost stories, and Bern in Switzerland is no exception. From the old buildings filled with history to the depth of the Aare river, here are some of the most haunted places in Bern.
Centuries after the vampire panic starting with the death of Petar Blagojević, another vampire was said to haunt the Serbian village, Kisiljevo. Who was Ruža Vlajna and what happened to her?
Said to be the mass burial place for the dead Irish Independence rebels from 1798, the Croppie’s Acre in Dublin is said to be haunted by their lingering souls.
Once a green paradise, the legend says the fairies protected the people of Val Gerina valley in the Swiss alps. Driven by greed to impress a woman however, the son meant to continue the tradition and friendship with the fairies, brought it all down.
Haunted by its former Fellows, Trinity College in Dublin is said to be filled with eerie spirits where even the bell tolls after dark when the shadows take over campus.
A true story morphed into a fairytale, the life and death of the French Countess Marie Louise St. Simon-Montleart has become the stuff of legends. Buried in the forest close to Wildegg Castle in Switzerland, it is said she is haunting the castle and the forest, her sanctuary.
Crossing through the Jura Mountains in Switzerland, an urban legend about the ghost of a lady in white is said to have haunted the Belchen Tunnel and was widely known and written about in the 80s. Question is, is she still haunting the tunnel?
Dead as a young girl, the family of Ruth Ellen Rose believed her to be one of the undead, a vampire rising from her grave every night to feed on her siblings, slowly dying of the same disease she did. To stop this, they decided to dig her body up and carve her heart out.
In the hushed woodlands and misted graveyards of 19th-century New England, terror did not always arrive in the night — sometimes it crept in through the sickroom window, carried on the breath of a wasting cough. One such unfortunate to fall victim to this grim tradition was Ruth Ellen Rose, a 15-year-old girl whose short, tragic life and eerie afterlife have lingered in Rhode Island folklore ever since.
Born in 1859 in Exeter, Rhode Island, Ruth Ellen Rose lived — and died — in the heartland of America’s so-called Vampire Panic. New England, though a landscape of tidy farmsteads and Puritan steeples, harbored a persistent, unshakable fear: that the dead could rise from their graves, not in bodily form, but as a spiritual parasite, draining the life from their surviving kin. Consumption, what we now know as tuberculosis, ravaged families so regularly that superstitions took root like stubborn weeds.
Her Mother was Mary Taylor from the Dixon and Peckham family, but she died in 1866. Her father, William G. Rose was a farmer, mill superintendent, and first president of the Exeter Grange. He was also a lieutenant colonel in the Rhode Island militia. He remarried to Mary Ann Griswold Morrarty. Her former husband had been from the Tillinghast family, and this would likely be one of the things that sealed Ruth’s fate.
Ruth’s illness was slow and torturous and came in waves. By 1874, at just 15, she succumbed to the wasting disease. But death, in the fearful lore of Exeter, was not always an ending.
A Family Cursed by Blood
Not long after Ruth’s death her siblings began to show the telltale signs of consumption. She had a lot of them, and although many of them lived long lives, there were some who died earlier. Like Emma Tillinghast, her step sister who died of consumption, although her death is most often noted to be in 1870 when she was 16. This epidemic also took the lives of their infant little brothers Horace and Edwin. In most documents, Ruth is not even listed in the flock of children so the details of the story sometimes become lost to legends.
William Greene Rose
And rumors swirled. William Rose, Ruth’s father, was not just a grieving parent. Whispers claimed he dabbled in Druid rituals, dark rites passed down from the Old World. At least that is how the stories about him have evolved until today. Local legend still speaks of an ancient stone altar, hidden in the woods of Peace Dale, upon which he was said to perform secret sacrifices to halt the spread of the mysterious illness plaguing his bloodline.
Perhaps it was superstition, or perhaps it was grief twisted into madness, but that same year, William disinterred his daughter’s body. He cut out Ruth’s heart himself and consigned it to the flames in an attempt to stop the curse of the undead. The ash was scattered, a desperate and macabre remedy meant to sever the supernatural link between the dead and the dying.
A Legacy of Unearthed Daughters
Ruth’s tragic end was not without precedent. The tale takes a darker turn when one examines her stepmother’s lineage. Mary, her stepmother, used to be a Tillinghast and this family came with stories of vampires. Stukely Tillinghast, whose own daughter, Sarah Tillinghast, had perished of consumption decades earlier — and was similarly suspected of preying on her family from beyond the grave. The echoes of that old curse seemed to pass through generations like a genetic illness, or perhaps, in the eyes of those fearful villagers, a vampiric inheritance.
Thus, it wasn’t merely disease that haunted these families, but their own shared history, where graves were never truly at rest and tragedy was expected to call twice.
An Unquiet Grave
Today, Ruth Ellen Rose lies in an unmarked grave in South Kingstown Historical Cemetery #11, colloquially known as Rose’s Lot. Or perhaps she’s not there at all, as her grave has never been found. Her father and stepmother’s headstones remain standing, weathered but intact, while Ruth’s resting place is conspicuously absent of any enduring marker. Perhaps it was lost to time — or perhaps deliberately left nameless to deny the restless dead a tether to this world.
George Rose Lot
The land itself retains a peculiar unease. Locals have spoken of strange happenings in the overgrown cemetery — flickering lights, phantom footsteps, and the sound of a distant, rasping cough when no one else is near. Some say that Ruth’s spirit lingers still, denied peace by the violence of her end and the stain of her family’s fear.
An ancient ghost coming from the depths of graves across the nordic countries, the Haugbúi Draugr could be both dangerous and even deadly. Not merely a specter, but the rotten flesh of the dead, the ghosts are remembered as The Walking Dead of the North.
In the dark Hendrick Street in Dublin, there once were two houses said to be some of the most haunted ones in town. Occupied by at least six ghosts, some say they still linger in their old street.
In the pre civil war Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia, the mausoleum of W.W Pool is said to be the grave of The Richmond Vampire. A more recent urban legend is now also connected with The Church Hill Tunnel collapse.
Old cities carry old ghost stories, and Bern in Switzerland is no exception. From the old buildings filled with history to the depth of the Aare river, here are some of the most haunted places in Bern.
Centuries after the vampire panic starting with the death of Petar Blagojević, another vampire was said to haunt the Serbian village, Kisiljevo. Who was Ruža Vlajna and what happened to her?
Said to be the mass burial place for the dead Irish Independence rebels from 1798, the Croppie’s Acre in Dublin is said to be haunted by their lingering souls.
Once a green paradise, the legend says the fairies protected the people of Val Gerina valley in the Swiss alps. Driven by greed to impress a woman however, the son meant to continue the tradition and friendship with the fairies, brought it all down.
Haunted by its former Fellows, Trinity College in Dublin is said to be filled with eerie spirits where even the bell tolls after dark when the shadows take over campus.
A true story morphed into a fairytale, the life and death of the French Countess Marie Louise St. Simon-Montleart has become the stuff of legends. Buried in the forest close to Wildegg Castle in Switzerland, it is said she is haunting the castle and the forest, her sanctuary.
Crossing through the Jura Mountains in Switzerland, an urban legend about the ghost of a lady in white is said to have haunted the Belchen Tunnel and was widely known and written about in the 80s. Question is, is she still haunting the tunnel?
Said to suck the life out of her siblings, the young girl, Nancy Young was believed to be a vampire after she died of consumption in Foster, Rhode Island. To stop the curse of the undead, the family exhumed her body to put it on fire.
When people think of America’s “vampire panics,” their minds often drift to the misty graveyards of rural New England — where names like Mercy Brown and Sarah Tillinghast have secured their place in eerie folklore. But lurking in the shadows of this unsettling chapter of history is a lesser-known, yet equally tragic figure: Nancy Young Foster of Rhode Island.
Though her story didn’t make international headlines like Mercy Brown’s, it’s a haunting reminder of the desperate lengths 19th-century families went to when death came knocking — and refused to leave.
Rhode Island: Along the rocky shores of Rhode Island State, a lot of vampire legends took form, driving people to exhume their dead and beloved from their graves to rid themselves of the curse of the undead they believed sucked the life out of their family.
Consumption and a Curse in Foster, Rhode Island
In the 1800s, consumption, now known as tuberculosis, was ravaging families across New England. In an age before germ theory was understood, when one family member after another fell ill with the same wasting sickness, superstition often filled the void left by medical ignorance. In some rural communities, it was believed that a deceased loved one, buried in the local cemetery, was feeding on the life force of the living from beyond the grave.
She was the oldest daughter of Levi and Anna Young, living together on their farm straddling between Rhode Island and Connecticut, just a few miles from where Sarah Tillinghast farm in Exeter was. She was managing the accounting on their land filled with her siblings and an inherited slave called Elija. They had arrived on the farm in 1806 and produced corn and other produce.
Read More: Check out the story about Sarah Tillinghast that share a very similar story
Nancy, a young woman likely in her late teens or early twenties, reportedly succumbed to tuberculosis on the sixth of April, 1827 and buried her in the newly walled off burial ground close to the farm. She was one of the first in her family to be buried in this lot, but soon the number of grave would grow.
After her death, other members of her family began to exhibit the same harrowing symptoms and now it consumed Nancy’s sister, Almira— persistent coughs, bloodied handkerchiefs, sunken eyes, and a ghostly pallor. Fear took hold as she was slowly withering away from something they didn’t know the cause of.
One day, Levi found his daughter in her room, claiming to feel better. She told him about her seeing Nancy in her dreams at night, telling her they soon would be together. Something about this vision made Levi so concerned he went to the elders for advice. They came to the conclusion that it had to be Nancy, returning from her grave in the night to feed the life out of her sister.
According to many legends, it is said that Nancy came back to haunt more than one of her seven siblings, sucking their blood every night she climbed out of her grave. But it seems like Almira was the only one actually sick in this timeframe and not all of them died of consumption before they took drastic measures to stop the disease from spreading.
A Grim Exhumation
Though details of the exact year and names of those involved have grown hazy with time, local lore holds that Nancy’s body was exhumed by her desperate family and neighbors. Convinced that she was the source of their suffering — a vampire preying on them from the grave — they undertook a grisly ritual to sever the connection.
Leading them was Levi and Nathan Lennox, often called Doc according to some of the online sources. Although appearing in more than one online retelling, there really isn’t much documentation to fact check his existence and is probably just an added detail for the legend. He was, according to the stories, not a doctor, but the locals trusted him knowing about strange things and superstitions, like what to do with an undead.
As was customary in such cases, her heart was likely removed and burned, either at the gravesite or in a nearby blacksmith’s forge, a common element in these folk cures. It was believed that by destroying the heart, the vampire’s hold over the family would be broken, and the sickness would be halted. In some versions of the story, they burned the whole body, scattering the ashes.
What happened to the remains they burned though? As custom often stated, it was common to either mix the ashes into a tonic given to the sick to drink. Some sources claim that the fumes of the smoke coming from her remains were inhaled by the family to cure themselves from the family curse of the vampiric infliction.
The details and confirmation to the details surrounding her exhumation and what happened to her remains are still up for debate.
An Obscure, Enduring Legend
Unlike the Mercy Brown case, Nancy Young Foster’s story wasn’t splashed across the newspapers of New England or abroad. Instead, it lingered quietly in local oral history, passed down in hushed tones and fireside tales.
There are some written accounts of it, one from a newspaper in 1936, from the Pawtuxet Valley Gleaner in 1892 and most of what we know today is from the works of Michael E. Bell who researched the many cases of exhumation based on the vampire legends, written down in his work Food For the Dead: On the Trail of New England’s Vampires.
Now, the legend has taken hold in many variations, and some versions of the legend claim that nothing was done to Nancy, there was no ritual, no staking of the body or burning of the organs. Some say that she is still out there.
But what of Nancy’s siblings? Almira died of tuberculosis the 19th of August in 1828, only 17 year old. Their brother Olney died a couple of years later when he was 29, of what, it doesn’t really say, but it’s likely it was from consumption as well. Many of the Young siblings died young. Huldah died when she was 23 in 1836, Caleb died in 1843 when he was 26 and Hiram in 1854 when he was 35. Two other brothers lived to be older but also succumbed. Only their youngest daughter, Sarah seemed to be the one to escape the illness and lived to an older age.
The Vampire Legacy of Rhode Island
Today, her name surfaces mostly in the footnotes of vampire lore enthusiasts and paranormal historians, but in her time, Nancy’s fate was another somber reminder of how death and superstition wove themselves into the everyday lives of New Englanders.
Foster: The Swamp Meadow Bridge in Foster, Rhode Island. // Source: Basheer Tome/ Wikimedia
Her gravestone is still on her family plot, tipped after all these years and all this ruckus surrounding her burial.
If you ever find yourself wandering the old burial grounds of Foster, Rhode Island, take a moment to listen. In the heavy silence of dusk, with the chill of fog threading through the trees, you might just feel the lingering sorrow of a girl accused of preying on her own blood, buried twice — once in earth, and again beneath the weight of forgotten superstition.
An ancient ghost coming from the depths of graves across the nordic countries, the Haugbúi Draugr could be both dangerous and even deadly. Not merely a specter, but the rotten flesh of the dead, the ghosts are remembered as The Walking Dead of the North.
In the dark Hendrick Street in Dublin, there once were two houses said to be some of the most haunted ones in town. Occupied by at least six ghosts, some say they still linger in their old street.
In the pre civil war Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia, the mausoleum of W.W Pool is said to be the grave of The Richmond Vampire. A more recent urban legend is now also connected with The Church Hill Tunnel collapse.
Old cities carry old ghost stories, and Bern in Switzerland is no exception. From the old buildings filled with history to the depth of the Aare river, here are some of the most haunted places in Bern.
Centuries after the vampire panic starting with the death of Petar Blagojević, another vampire was said to haunt the Serbian village, Kisiljevo. Who was Ruža Vlajna and what happened to her?
Said to be the mass burial place for the dead Irish Independence rebels from 1798, the Croppie’s Acre in Dublin is said to be haunted by their lingering souls.
Once a green paradise, the legend says the fairies protected the people of Val Gerina valley in the Swiss alps. Driven by greed to impress a woman however, the son meant to continue the tradition and friendship with the fairies, brought it all down.
Haunted by its former Fellows, Trinity College in Dublin is said to be filled with eerie spirits where even the bell tolls after dark when the shadows take over campus.
A true story morphed into a fairytale, the life and death of the French Countess Marie Louise St. Simon-Montleart has become the stuff of legends. Buried in the forest close to Wildegg Castle in Switzerland, it is said she is haunting the castle and the forest, her sanctuary.
Crossing through the Jura Mountains in Switzerland, an urban legend about the ghost of a lady in white is said to have haunted the Belchen Tunnel and was widely known and written about in the 80s. Question is, is she still haunting the tunnel?
Long after the vampire manic swept through New England, a grave of a young girl with a curious epitaph became accused of being the grave of a vampire. Now it is said that Nellie Vaughn is haunting her grave now removed because of vandalism, trying to clear her name.
Deep in the woods of West Greenwich, Rhode Island, where the wind moves with a whisper and moss grows thick on broken stones, was a grave marked with one of the eeriest epitaphs in New England:
“I Am Waiting and Watching For You.”
That chilling inscription, paired with the tragic story of a 19-year-old girl named Nellie Vaughn, has birthed decades of eerie folklore, ghost stories, and whispered warnings. But the truth? It’s not about a bloodthirsty vampire rising from her grave—it’s about a girl caught in the shadow of another legend, and a ghost story that may say more about us than about her.
A Girl in a Grave, a Town with a Legacy
Nellie Louisa Vaughn, also spelled Nellie Louisa Vaughan, died in 1889, just 19 years old, and was laid to rest in the Plain Meeting House Cemetery in West Greenwich. At a glance, her story seems tailor-made for gothic folklore: a young woman, tragically taken in the prime of her life, buried beneath a cryptic and spine-tingling epitaph.
But her death was not accompanied by accusations of vampirism. Decades after her death, there were rumors that no plants would grow on her grave and that the grave itself was looking to sink into the ground. Was something crawling in and out? Was it perhaps something supernatural about her death and her grave?
By the 1970s, she was a well known local legend, her grave vandalised and her story made the newspapers.
The Vampire Panic of New England
To understand how this happened, we have to rewind just a few years and drive a few miles east to Exeter, where a young woman named Mercy Brown died of tuberculosis in 1892—just three years after Nellie. Mercy’s family had already lost several members to the same wasting illness. When her brother Edwin began to fall ill, the townspeople demanded action. They exhumed Mercy’s body and found it, preserved in cold storage, with “fresh” blood in the heart.
The solution? They removed the heart and liver, burned them, and fed the ashes to Edwin in a desperate effort to save him. It didn’t work—but the story exploded. It was reported in newspapers across the country and even overseas. Some say Bram Stoker himself read about it while writing Dracula.
That gruesome tale became the definitive American vampire legend. But what does it have to do with Nellie?
The True Vampire Lore: Gravestone of Mercy L. Brown, a key figure in Rhode Island’s vampire legend, who died on January 17, 1892, at the age of 19.
Mistaken Identity—or Manufactured Mystery?
Fast-forward to the mid-to-late 20th century. A curious thing began to happen: Nellie Vaughn’s grave started attracting attention. Visitors began whispering that she, not Mercy, was Rhode Island’s real vampire. Her grave was vandalized. Her name was spoken on ghost tours. Paranormal thrill-seekers claimed to feel her presence, hear phantom whispers, or see flickers of movement in the trees near her resting place.
Some say that she was buried alive, that she got a stake through her heart and that she was one of the undead from the New England Vampire Epidemic.
But here’s the kicker: there is no historical evidence that Nellie was ever considered a vampire by her contemporaries.
Folklorist Michael Bell, author of Food for the Dead: On the Trail of New England’s Vampires investigated what really was going on with the lore. Bell has spent decades researching the vampire panic and says Nellie Vaughn’s legend is pure folkloric conflation—a mash-up of Mercy Brown’s well-documented case, Nellie’s proximity in age and location, and the spine-chilling line carved on her gravestone.
There is a story about a teacher at the local high school in Coventry that told about the Mercy Brown legend in the 1960s. But saying nothing about the specific name or grave, the students stumbled across Nellies’ and said it was this. There have been numerous attempts to track down the teacher, but they have been unsuccessful.
From Human Tragedy to Urban Legend
Nellie Vaughn was a real person, not a creature of the night. She died young, likely of pneumonia or a similar illness on 31 March in 1889—tragic, but not supernatural. She was first buried on her family farm, but in October that year, her mother was given permission to move her remains to the public cemetery.
There is not really much to indicate that her family or anyone believed her to be a vampire in that time, and the legends came after. The earliest documentations for the legend are the newspaper articles from the 70s.
The vandalism of her grave, the repeated breaking of her headstone, and the ghost-hunting theatrics are the unfortunate side effects of myth overtaking memory. In the end they had to remove her tombstone to protect it from the vandals and now, she is hidden in an unmarked grave.
Her story, like many ghost tales, is less about the dead and more about the living: our obsession with mystery, our fear of death, and our irresistible urge to turn sorrow into spectacle.
The Ghost of Nellie Vaughn
After the vampire legends started to stop, the ghost legends took over. People have now reported about hearing her voice close to her gravesite close to the large crypt, saying: I am perfectly pleasant.
There has also been said that a woman wearing Victorian clothes has been seen but vanishes. In most stories she is said to say either, I am perfectly pleasant or I am happy.
Ghost tours mention her name. Paranormal groups claim her spirit haunts the woods. Some say that she came back as a ghost in order to clear her name. Or are we still just profiting on the tombstone of a girl that happened to die during a Vampiric Mass Hysteria?
Nellie Vaughn deserves better than the chains of folklore forged around her grave. She was not exhumed. She was not accused. She was not a vampire. But her story reveals something powerful: how easily we can reanimate the past, and how quickly history can become horror.
Because of the vandalism she suffered, the graveyard had to remove her tombstone in the 90s. Now the grass is growing freely and there is no problem with it sinking into the ground. When the people wandering over it stopped, so did the signs of the legend.
An ancient ghost coming from the depths of graves across the nordic countries, the Haugbúi Draugr could be both dangerous and even deadly. Not merely a specter, but the rotten flesh of the dead, the ghosts are remembered as The Walking Dead of the North.
In the dark Hendrick Street in Dublin, there once were two houses said to be some of the most haunted ones in town. Occupied by at least six ghosts, some say they still linger in their old street.
In the pre civil war Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia, the mausoleum of W.W Pool is said to be the grave of The Richmond Vampire. A more recent urban legend is now also connected with The Church Hill Tunnel collapse.
Old cities carry old ghost stories, and Bern in Switzerland is no exception. From the old buildings filled with history to the depth of the Aare river, here are some of the most haunted places in Bern.
Centuries after the vampire panic starting with the death of Petar Blagojević, another vampire was said to haunt the Serbian village, Kisiljevo. Who was Ruža Vlajna and what happened to her?
Said to be the mass burial place for the dead Irish Independence rebels from 1798, the Croppie’s Acre in Dublin is said to be haunted by their lingering souls.
Once a green paradise, the legend says the fairies protected the people of Val Gerina valley in the Swiss alps. Driven by greed to impress a woman however, the son meant to continue the tradition and friendship with the fairies, brought it all down.
Haunted by its former Fellows, Trinity College in Dublin is said to be filled with eerie spirits where even the bell tolls after dark when the shadows take over campus.
A true story morphed into a fairytale, the life and death of the French Countess Marie Louise St. Simon-Montleart has become the stuff of legends. Buried in the forest close to Wildegg Castle in Switzerland, it is said she is haunting the castle and the forest, her sanctuary.
Crossing through the Jura Mountains in Switzerland, an urban legend about the ghost of a lady in white is said to have haunted the Belchen Tunnel and was widely known and written about in the 80s. Question is, is she still haunting the tunnel?
After the death of Sarah Tillinghast, the family started complaining about her coming back for them at night, draining the life out of them. The family members fall dead to consumption and thinking that Sarah was a vampire, they dug her up and burned her heart.
In the shadowy folklore of New England, where fog drifts through ancient graveyards and legends cling to weathered headstones like ivy, few tales unsettle quite like the vampire panics of the 18th and 19th centuries.
While the name Mercy Brown often takes center stage in these grim histories, she was far from the region’s first alleged vampire. Nearly a century before Mercy’s exhumation in Exeter, another tragedy gripped a Rhode Island farming family — that of Sarah Tillinghast, a young woman whose death and eerie posthumous reputation would earn her a ghostly place in America’s darkest folklore.
Exeter, Rhode Island in the 1700s
In the late 18th century, Exeter, Rhode Island was a small, isolated farming village, nestled in the wooded hills and fertile valleys of southern New England. Like much of colonial America, Exeter’s people lived in fear of both earthly and supernatural forces. Disease was an ever-present specter; outbreaks of consumption, now known as tuberculosis, were especially dreaded.
Tuberculosis was a wasting disease — one that slowly robbed its victims of their strength, appetite, and vitality. Without the medical knowledge we possess today, it seemed to New Englanders of the period that the illness spread like a curse through families. And in a world shaped by superstition, when science failed, folklore filled the void.
The Death of Sarah Tillinghast
The story of Sarah Tillinghast is shrouded in between fact, folklore and local legends. Her person has also been romanticised, but truth is, we don’t know a whole lot about who she was when she lived.
According to local lore, Sarah Tillinghast was a young woman that a source described as quiet, pious, and beloved by her family. Her description in the first written source was a comely elder daughter. How she really was like though has largely been lost to time, and now she is mostly remembered as one of the first vampires of New England.
Her father, Stukely was a prosperous farmer in the small Exeter community, living with his wife, Honor and their fourteen or twelve children. Often Sarah is said to be the eldest daughter, but she had at least five older siblings. Her father was called Snuffy Stuke because of the brown jacket he wore and made his living by selling apples from his orchard. In 1799 towards harvest season however, everything changed. It was said that Stukely had a dream where half of his apple trees in the orchard died. When he woke up, he believed it to be an ominous warning. Some sources claim that his daughter Sarah called out for him in his dream as well.
His daughter, Sarah returned home, feeling uneasy. Some embellishments of the legend claim that Sarah also had an uneasy feeling and confessed to her father that she had an ominous sense of death looming over their family. A strange claim, but not long after, Sarah herself fell ill.
She was stricken by consumption, a wasting sickness that sapped her strength and left her a ghostly wisp of her former self. Some think that she had the galloping kind, where it can be latent in your body for years before consuming the sick fast when it breaks out. Despite her family’s care, Sarah died — and, as the legend says, death didn’t end her role in the family’s misery. She was only 21 or perhaps as young as 19.
In the weeks that followed Sarah’s burial, Sarah’s sister began to feel sick. It’s not said which sister, and some sources say that it could even be her brother James, only nine years old. The family lot where they are all buried are missing some tombstones, and it’s difficult to say the exact sibling. But fact was, the disease was spreading.
According to the story, it wasn’t just the disease that terrified her — it was the whispered stories from the sickbeds. She claimed she awoke in the night to find Sarah’s ghostly figure standing by their bedsides, her cold gaze fixed upon them, her presence heavy and suffocating. She said her dead sister caused her pain as she sat on her body. As quickly as Sarah did, she died, and four more of Stukely’s children followed suit.
New England’s Vampire Superstitions
It’s important to remember that during this period, the vampire in New England folklore was not the same creature popularized by Bram Stoker or Hollywood. Instead, these were restless corpses or spirits that drained vitality from the living, usually from within their own families.
The typical signs that one of the dead was to blame included multiple deaths in a family from consumption, reports of the deceased visiting the sick, and tales of disturbing, half-preserved corpses found during exhumation. The solution? A gruesome ritual: exhume the suspected corpse, check for signs of unnatural preservation (fresh blood, ruddy cheeks, or a heart full of blood), and burn the heart or other organs believed to be causing the harm.
Cases like this were shockingly common throughout 18th- and 19th-century New England, particularly in rural communities where tuberculosis outbreaks were frequent and poorly understood.
The Exhumation of Sarah Tillinghast
Faced with death after death, and driven to desperation, Stukely Tillinghast turned to his neighbors for counsel. Together, they arrived at a grim decision: Sarah’s grave must be opened. They went to the cemetery and dug up all six children, just to make sure.
Everyone of the coffins had what they deemed normal, a decomposing and dead corpse, except for Sarah. When they exhumed her body, legend holds that it appeared unnervingly lifelike. Her eyes were open, her hair and fingernails had grown. Some versions claim her cheeks were still flushed and that a small amount of fresh blood lay at the corner of her mouth — classic folkloric signs of a vampire. Whether this detail was added by later tellers of the tale or was a genuine observation from the exhumation remains lost to history.
This was for the small farming community, proof that she was a vampire and that Sarah was to blame for the deaths in the family. To stop the deaths and end Sarah’s malevolent influence, her heart was removed and burned — the standard ritual believed to sever the undead’s grip on the living. The ashes of the heart may have been buried or scattered, though records (such as they are) do not agree on this point.
According to some versions of the story, the deaths in the Tillinghast family ceased after the ritual. Other versions suggest a few more family members succumbed before the outbreak burned itself out, as diseases often do.
Regardless, the tale of Sarah Tillinghast became etched into Rhode Island’s oral history, predating the far more famous Mercy Brown case by over a century. Both stories showcase how deeply fear and folklore entwined themselves with the harsh realities of life and death in early America.
Historical Truth or Folkloric Fiction?
Unlike the well-documented Mercy Brown incident in 1892, the case of Sarah Tillinghast is murkier. No contemporary records — such as town documents or church logs — confirm her death, exhumation, or family history. Her story has been passed down primarily through oral tradition and local legend, and most written versions appeared in the 19th and 20th centuries.
Folklorists, including Michael E. Bell, author of Food for the Dead: On the Trail of New England’s Vampires, have noted how many of these vampire panic cases share similar narrative patterns: multiple family deaths, reports of supernatural visitations, an exhumation, and a grim ritual of heart-burning. Sarah Tillinghast’s legend fits neatly into this mold, whether or not the specifics are historically accurate.
And if he didn’t find the article written in 1888 by Sidney Rider, the story might have been lost.
The Forgotten Grave: Rhode Island Historical Cemetery Exter #14 in Stutley Tillinghast Lot, there are a lot of unmarked graves forgotten by time. One of them is probably Sarah Tillinghast’s.
A Forgotten Haunting
Today, Sarah Tillinghast is an obscure figure, overshadowed by more famous “vampires” like Mercy Brown. But her tale remains one of the earliest and most unsettling examples of America’s vampire folklore — a testament to how communities, gripped by grief and terror, can turn on the dead themselves in a desperate attempt to survive.
She is put to rest in the small and overgrown Rhode Island Historical Cemetery, Exeter 14, containing only 25 burials on a mossy hill. Beneath an unmarked grave of weathered stones and wind-swept grass, echoes of these old fears linger. And while the name Sarah Tillinghast may have faded from history books, her spectral legend still haunts New England’s darker corners — a chilling reminder that when science fails and death comes calling, superstition is never far behind.
So if you ever find yourself walking past an ancient graveyard in Exeter as dusk falls, listen carefully. They say some restless souls never quite stay buried.
An ancient ghost coming from the depths of graves across the nordic countries, the Haugbúi Draugr could be both dangerous and even deadly. Not merely a specter, but the rotten flesh of the dead, the ghosts are remembered as The Walking Dead of the North.
In the dark Hendrick Street in Dublin, there once were two houses said to be some of the most haunted ones in town. Occupied by at least six ghosts, some say they still linger in their old street.
In the pre civil war Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia, the mausoleum of W.W Pool is said to be the grave of The Richmond Vampire. A more recent urban legend is now also connected with The Church Hill Tunnel collapse.
Old cities carry old ghost stories, and Bern in Switzerland is no exception. From the old buildings filled with history to the depth of the Aare river, here are some of the most haunted places in Bern.
Centuries after the vampire panic starting with the death of Petar Blagojević, another vampire was said to haunt the Serbian village, Kisiljevo. Who was Ruža Vlajna and what happened to her?
Said to be the mass burial place for the dead Irish Independence rebels from 1798, the Croppie’s Acre in Dublin is said to be haunted by their lingering souls.
Once a green paradise, the legend says the fairies protected the people of Val Gerina valley in the Swiss alps. Driven by greed to impress a woman however, the son meant to continue the tradition and friendship with the fairies, brought it all down.
Haunted by its former Fellows, Trinity College in Dublin is said to be filled with eerie spirits where even the bell tolls after dark when the shadows take over campus.
A true story morphed into a fairytale, the life and death of the French Countess Marie Louise St. Simon-Montleart has become the stuff of legends. Buried in the forest close to Wildegg Castle in Switzerland, it is said she is haunting the castle and the forest, her sanctuary.
Crossing through the Jura Mountains in Switzerland, an urban legend about the ghost of a lady in white is said to have haunted the Belchen Tunnel and was widely known and written about in the 80s. Question is, is she still haunting the tunnel?
Growing out of coffins and decaying corpses, vines was a local superstition that marked a vampire grave of those who had died of consumption. This was the case of young Annie Dennett, who was thought to feed on her ailing father.
In the shadowy folds of early 19th-century New England, where superstition clung stubbornly to the edges of even the most respectable communities, tales of vampires didn’t always come cloaked in foreign mystery. Sometimes, they arrive on your neighbor’s doorstep. Or in the family crypt. Or — as in the case of poor Annie Dennett — in the quiet graveyards of rural New Hampshire.
While names like Mercy Brown have gained infamy for their role in America’s vampire panic, Annie Dennett’s story is a more obscure, though no less fascinating, chapter of this eerie history. For many years, the Reverend who wrote it down, called her Janey Dennit and she was for a while, quite a mystery. And what makes it particularly noteworthy is the presence of a well-respected minister who not only witnessed her exhumation but left behind a haunting record of the event.
New Hampshire: Deep lakes, dark forests. The New England countryside used to be ripe with superstition and panic. Just a century after the witch panic in Salem, a fear for vampires took hold over the locals.
Consumption, Fear, and Desperation
Annies family had been in New England for generations when her ancestors settled in New Hampshire in the mid 1600s. Through their trade as blacksmith, their family was at one point one of the richest in Portsmouth.
She grew up in a house filled with siblings as her parents had eight children, on the high ground in the woods. Her father, Moses, wanted to make his own way and had moved from Portsmouth to Barnstead, working as a tailor.
Like many young people of her time, Annie Dennett succumbed to tuberculosis — the dreaded “consumption” — at just 21 years old in 1807. Tuberculosis was not merely a disease back then; it was an enigma that hollowed out families and devastated entire communities, slowly claiming its victims with a wasting grip that no one could seem to stop.
Faced with its horrors, it’s no wonder that desperate families sometimes turned to folklore for answers. The prevailing belief, particularly in rural parts of New England, held that a deceased relative could, through some malevolent post-mortem influence, drain the life from the living. Rumors started to go around that she could be one of the undead. That night, she rose from her grave and returned to her family to feed on them. This was something that they believed could be the cause of the consumption illness. And when the family started to show symptoms of having it as well, it was also believed that the bodies of the undead held the cure.
And when medicine failed, spades came out.
The Vampire Hunt in Plain Sight
What makes Annie Dennett’s case especially intriguing is its documentation by a man of the cloth. Enoch Hayes Place, a Freewill Baptist minister from Vermont, happened to be in town when Annie’s family made the grim decision to exhume her body in 1810, three years after Annie was dead and buried.
Her father, Moses Dennett, was gravely ill with tuberculosis, and in the absence of a cure, the family clung to the desperate hope that digging up Annie’s remains might reveal signs of vampiric influence — a heart still full of blood, perhaps, or some unnatural preservation of flesh.
Old Graveyards: A serene graveyard in New Hampshire reflects the eerie history of vampire folklore in early New England.
Enoch Hayes Place attended the exhumation and recorded the scene in his diary. His words capture both the grim spectacle and the uneasy blending of religious authority with old-world superstition:
“They opened the grave and it was a Solemn Sight indeed. A young Brother by the name of Adams examined the mouldy Specticle, but found nothing as they Supposed they Should…. There was but a little left except bones.”
Unlike some of the more infamous exhumations of the era, Annie Dennett’s disinterment was anticlimactic. No blood-filled heart. No unnatural preservation. Just a young woman’s decayed remains, bones already claimed by the earth. It was noted that there were vines growing in the coffin that were discussed in several of the exhumations of the believed vampiric graves.
The Vampiric Vines
One of the tell tale signs of vampirism was a body not decaying and bodily fluids like blood still found in the organs. Another sign of vampirism here was vines growing on the body.
In 1784, there was a newspaper article from Connecticut about a foreign quack doctor that said that these vines or sprouts growing on the body would also be a cure to burn and consume, often together with other organs.
This we also see with the case in Willington of two bodies in relation to a Mr. Isaac Johnson. There was also a case in Dummerston, Vermont and upstate New York.
It was also a superstition that said when a vine was growing from a coffing to the next (most often another family member), another one would die.The only way to break the curse was to break the vine and dig up the body to burn their vitals.
Exhumation: A group of men performing an exhumation ritual under the moonlight, reflecting early 19th-century beliefs in vampire folklore.
The ritual, meant to save her ailing father, did nothing. He would, like so many others, eventually succumb to tuberculosis.
But the very fact that the ritual occurred, and that it was recorded by a minister, speaks volumes about the cultural grip these beliefs held even in “enlightened” New England. Science and folklore shared uneasy quarters in early America, and when grief met fear, it often leaned toward the old ways.
A Forgotten Chapter in New England’s Vampire Lore
While Mercy Brown’s story would capture international attention decades later, Annie Dennett remains largely forgotten — a footnote in folklore studies, though no less telling. Her story illustrates that these rituals weren’t isolated anomalies but part of a broader, if uneasy, social custom. The fear of consumption and its deadly march through families often blurred the line between superstition and faith.
And perhaps, most chillingly, it shows how even ministers weren’t immune to the lure of old beliefs when confronted with death’s relentless hand.
An ancient ghost coming from the depths of graves across the nordic countries, the Haugbúi Draugr could be both dangerous and even deadly. Not merely a specter, but the rotten flesh of the dead, the ghosts are remembered as The Walking Dead of the North.
In the dark Hendrick Street in Dublin, there once were two houses said to be some of the most haunted ones in town. Occupied by at least six ghosts, some say they still linger in their old street.
In the pre civil war Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia, the mausoleum of W.W Pool is said to be the grave of The Richmond Vampire. A more recent urban legend is now also connected with The Church Hill Tunnel collapse.
Old cities carry old ghost stories, and Bern in Switzerland is no exception. From the old buildings filled with history to the depth of the Aare river, here are some of the most haunted places in Bern.
Centuries after the vampire panic starting with the death of Petar Blagojević, another vampire was said to haunt the Serbian village, Kisiljevo. Who was Ruža Vlajna and what happened to her?
Said to be the mass burial place for the dead Irish Independence rebels from 1798, the Croppie’s Acre in Dublin is said to be haunted by their lingering souls.
Once a green paradise, the legend says the fairies protected the people of Val Gerina valley in the Swiss alps. Driven by greed to impress a woman however, the son meant to continue the tradition and friendship with the fairies, brought it all down.
Haunted by its former Fellows, Trinity College in Dublin is said to be filled with eerie spirits where even the bell tolls after dark when the shadows take over campus.
A true story morphed into a fairytale, the life and death of the French Countess Marie Louise St. Simon-Montleart has become the stuff of legends. Buried in the forest close to Wildegg Castle in Switzerland, it is said she is haunting the castle and the forest, her sanctuary.
Crossing through the Jura Mountains in Switzerland, an urban legend about the ghost of a lady in white is said to have haunted the Belchen Tunnel and was widely known and written about in the 80s. Question is, is she still haunting the tunnel?
An online magazine about the paranormal, haunted and macabre. We collect the ghost stories from all around the world as well as review horror and gothic media.
A church with the sinister name The Black Church in Dublin has a legend that claims if you follow the ritual, you will be able to summon the devil.
An ancient ghost coming from the depths of graves across the nordic countries, the Haugbúi Draugr could be both dangerous and even deadly. Not merely a specter, but the rotten flesh of the dead, the ghosts are remembered as The Walking Dead of the North.
In the dark Hendrick Street in Dublin, there once were two houses said to be some of the most haunted ones in town. Occupied by at least six ghosts, some say they still linger in their old street.
In the pre civil war Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia, the mausoleum of W.W Pool is said to be the grave of The Richmond Vampire. A more recent urban legend is now also connected with The Church Hill Tunnel collapse.
Said to be haunted by headless prisoners who tried to capture Dublin Castle, this storied building has shadows lingering in the corners.
Old cities carry old ghost stories, and Bern in Switzerland is no exception. From the old buildings filled with history to the depth of the Aare river, here are some of the most haunted places in Bern.
Centuries after the vampire panic starting with the death of Petar Blagojević, another vampire was said to haunt the Serbian village, Kisiljevo. Who was Ruža Vlajna and what happened to her?
Said to be the mass burial place for the dead Irish Independence rebels from 1798, the Croppie’s Acre in Dublin is said to be haunted by their lingering souls.
Once a green paradise, the legend says the fairies protected the people of Val Gerina valley in the Swiss alps. Driven by greed to impress a woman however, the son meant to continue the tradition and friendship with the fairies, brought it all down.
Haunted by its former Fellows, Trinity College in Dublin is said to be filled with eerie spirits where even the bell tolls after dark when the shadows take over campus.
A true story morphed into a fairytale, the life and death of the French Countess Marie Louise St. Simon-Montleart has become the stuff of legends. Buried in the forest close to Wildegg Castle in Switzerland, it is said she is haunting the castle and the forest, her sanctuary.
Crossing through the Jura Mountains in Switzerland, an urban legend about the ghost of a lady in white is said to have haunted the Belchen Tunnel and was widely known and written about in the 80s. Question is, is she still haunting the tunnel?
