September 16, 2025 • 21 mins
Just off the coast of Venice lies a place so feared that even locals refuse to go near it.
Poveglia Island has been called the world’s most haunted island — a former quarantine zone and plague hospital where tens of thousands perished, and where the echoes of suffering seem impossible to silence.
In this episode of State of the Unknown: Out of State, Robert Barber uncovers the true paranormal history of Poveglia — from plague pits and asylums to ghostly sightings and modern-day bans. It’s a haunting unlike any other… and one that still lingers over the waters of the Venetian Lagoon.
🎧 Haunted history. Real places. True fear.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:01):
A quick note before we begin.
This episode containsreferences to plague deaths,
human remains and accounts ofpsychiatric mistreatment.
Some details may be disturbingand, as always, what follows is
a mix of documented history,folklore and reported
experiences.
This is a story of how trauma,tragedy and legend have shaped
(00:24):
one of the world's most infamousplaces.
Listener, discretion is advised.
More than 100,000 people wereburned alive on this island and
the ground is still thick withtheir ash.
It's called Poviglia, a speck ofland off Venice, sealed off by
(00:45):
the Italian government.
There are no ferries, there areno tours.
Fishermen won't even sail nearit.
First came the plague Bodiespiled up so fast, they lit pyres
that never went out.
The air was black, the soilturned gray and the screams
(01:08):
carried across the lagoon.
Then came the asylum, ahospital where no one got better
.
Patients whispered aboutshadows that stalked them.
A doctor cut and drilled insecret until he climbed the bell
tower and either jumped or wasthrown.
(01:28):
Today the island rots.
Windows gape like broken eyes.
The bell tower leans over emptycourtyards.
But people who sneak ashore saythe island isn't empty.
They hear moans, smell smoke,see figures watching from the
(01:48):
ruins and sometimes bones stillwash up with the tide.
This isn't just haunted ground,it's curse.
I'm your host, robert Barber,and this is Out of State, a
(02:17):
companion series to State of theUnknown.
Short journeys into legendsbeyond America's borders,
stories of folklore, hauntingsand shadows from the other side
of the map.
Let's step into the dark.
Polviklia isn't large.
(02:40):
From a distance it looks likenothing more than a smudge of
green floating in the Venetianlagoon.
But step closer and the detailsstart to emerge.
A crumbling bell tower leansabove the tree line, its windows
hollow Around it.
The ruins of brick buildingscollapse in on themselves, roofs
(03:03):
gone, walls cracked, wide opento the sky.
Half swallowed by ivy andbrambles, the ground sinks in
places as though the islanditself is rotting.
Locals say that's because thesoil is mixed with ash and bone.
The air is damp, heavy with thesmell of the lagoon.
(03:24):
On calm days, the silence feelssuffocating.
On windy nights, the waterslaps against stone, echoing
through the ruins like footsteps.
It doesn't feel abandoned, itfeels watched.
But Polveglia wasn't alwaysthis way.
(03:45):
Before the plague it was justone more island in the Venetian
lagoon, a quiet patch of landwith families who fished the
waters and tended their gardens.
Children played in thecourtyards where the ruins now
stand.
The bell tower rang across thewater not as a warning but as a
(04:06):
call to gather.
It was small, ordinary andunremarkable, and maybe that's
the cruelest part that a placeso unassuming could become one
of the darkest corners ofVenetian history.
In the 1300s, the Black Deathswept through Europe like
(04:27):
wildfire.
Venice was one of the hardesthit.
The city was a hub of trade,with ships sailing in from every
direction carrying silks, spiceand plague.
At first, the Venetians triedto contain it within the city.
Doctors in long beaked masksmoved through the streets.
(04:50):
Those are the plague doctors.
We see Halloween costumes oftoday stuffing herbs and vinegar
into their strange bird-likenoses, hoping it would keep out
the infection.
They didn't understand germsback then, but they knew.
The air itself seemed poisoned.
And still people died by thethousands.
(05:13):
So the Venetian Senate made adecision the sick, anyone
showing the black sores, thefever, the rattle in the chest,
would be taken away, not treated, not cared for, just removed.
And where did they send them?
Here To Poveglia.
(05:34):
Picture it A ship pulls intothe lagoon, men with poles and
hooks prodding at bodies alreadyhalf dead, hurting them down
the gangplank.
Families, separated mothersscreaming for children as
they're dragged onto shoreSoldiers watching from a
distance, their faces wrapped incloth.
(05:56):
There were no hospitals here, nochurches, just crude wooden
shacks hastily built to hold theinfected until they collapsed.
And collapse they did by thehundreds, by the thousands.
The dead piled up so quickly.
There was no time for coffins,no priests to bless the ground.
(06:18):
They dug pits where they could,and when the pits filled up
they lit the pyres.
Day and night, the fires burned, the smoke rolled across the
water, drifting into Venice sothick people claimed they could
taste it on their tongues.
Ash fell back onto the islandlike gray snow coating the soil,
(06:41):
seeping into every crack ofearth.
Some records claim 160,000people died here, others say
even more.
However you count it, theground became less dirt and more
bone.
To this day, people claim thatover half the soil is made up of
(07:02):
human ash.
Even the plants seem sick here.
Like the ground is made up ofhuman ash.
Even the plants seem sick here,like the ground is poisoned
from the inside out.
Could that be why the grasswithers in strange patches, or
why the trees twist in ways thatdon't look natural?
Even the fishermen keep away.
They'll tell you, if your netdrags too close to poloveglia,
(07:25):
you won't catch fish, you'llcatch bones, a femur, a skull, a
jawbone, with teeth stillinside.
They say when that happens, youdon't keep it, you throw it
back fast before it curses yourfamily.
Before it curses your family,poveglia became a word you
(07:45):
didn't say out loud, a place youdidn't look at when you passed.
Everyone knew what it was Notan island, but a graveyard.
But the thing about graveyardsis at least the dead are meant
to rest On Poveglia they didn't.
(08:06):
The island was too full of pain, too full of terror, too full
of bodies that never had lastrites, never had prayers, just
screams that faded into smoke.
And in that silence somethingdarker took root.
By the 1900s you'd think thisisland would finally be left
(08:29):
alone.
Too many dead, too much ash inthe ground.
But no, they built a hospitalhere and before long it turned
into an asylum.
Patients were brought in withreal illnesses, but what they
claimed they saw wasn't human.
They said voices called to themat night.
(08:51):
They said shadows followed themthrough the halls.
Some swore they saw faces atthe windows, faces that didn't
belong to the living.
The doctors laughed it off,said it was madness.
But the rumors about one doctor,well, those never went away.
He worked in the upper floorsof the hospital and what he did
(09:16):
there no one really knows.
The stories say he drilled intopeople's skulls, cut them open,
burned them, treatments thatweren't treatments at all.
And then there's the bell tower, the only piece of the island
you can still see standing tallfrom the water.
They say one night that doctorclimbed to the very top.
(09:41):
Maybe the gills got to him,maybe the voices pushed him over
the edge.
Voices pushed him over the edge, literally.
The story goes he jumped, ormaybe someone pushed him.
Some say he survived the fall.
But when he hit the ground ablack mist rose up from the
(10:02):
island itself, wrapped aroundhis neck and choked the life out
of him.
The nurses claimed they saw ithappen, said his screams carried
across the lagoon hours beforehe finally died.
The tower still stands andpeople who sneak inside swear.
They can still hear it, theclang of a bell that hasn't rung
(10:25):
in a hundred years.
And when the bell tolls, that'swhen they see her, a woman
moving through the corridors,her face burned, her eyes hollow
, trailing smoke like the pyresthat once lit the island.
No one agrees on who she isPlague victim, patient, nurse.
(10:47):
But they agree on this.
When the bell calls, she walks.
Today, poveglia is sealed.
The Italian government hasbanned visitors for decades.
But bans don't keep everyoneout.
People sneak in and what theybring back aren't just stories.
(11:08):
They bring back recordings ofscreams captured in empty
corridors.
They bring back scratches ontheir arms, burns on their skin.
They bring back nightmares thatkeep them awake long after
they've left the island.
The first thing they notice isthe silence.
It isn't normal quiet.
(11:30):
It's heavy, like the wholeplace is holding its breath.
Even the wind sounds muted.
Then the noises start Footstepson stone floors above them,
though the rooms are empty.
Doors slamming shut down thehall, a whisper that seems to
come from behind your ear,though you're standing alone.
(11:51):
One group of thrill-seekersswore they heard screaming in
the bell tower, a man's voice,raw and desperate.
But when they climbed thestairs the room was deserted no
one there, no bell, just dust.
Others described the smell asharp, choking stench of smoke
(12:13):
and iron, as if the fires neverwent out.
It clings to their clothes longafter they leave.
And then the figures Shadowsmoving across walls where there
should be nothing, doctors inwhite coats who vanish when you
blink.
Women in gowns drifting downhallways.
(12:33):
Their faces scorched, theirhands reaching.
Visitors say they've beentouched, cold fingers brushing
their necks, sleeves tugged hardenough to pull them off balance
.
Some claim they've been shovedso violently they were thrown to
the ground.
And outside the lagoon carriesits own reminders, fishermen say
(12:58):
their nets sometimes drag upbones, skulls, teeth, fragments
of spine.
It's the kind of catch thatmakes them hurl everything back
into the water and row hard forshore.
Even those who laugh it off atfirst, who say we didn't see
anything, it was just an oldruin, end up changing their tune
(13:20):
.
Weeks later they reportwhispers in their homes, shadows
in the corners, dreams of fireand smoke they can't wake from,
because Poveglia doesn't let youleave clean, it follows you.
Some say the island is hauntedbecause of what happened here
the trauma, the death, the fearthat soaked into the ground and
(13:44):
never left.
There are a number of theoriesfor why these souls can't rest.
Theory one energy of mass death.
The idea is simple Places ofviolence hold echoes and
Poveglia is nothing but violence.
Tens of thousands of livesended in terror, their screams
(14:09):
carried on the wind, theirbodies turned to ash.
If that kind of sufferingleaves a mark, this island would
be branded forever.
Theory two restless spiritswithout burial rites In Catholic
tradition.
The dead need last rites InCatholic tradition.
(14:30):
The dead need last rites.
They need a priest, prayers, agrave.
The plague victims here gotnone of that Just fire, just ash
.
Some believe their souls can'tmove on.
They're trapped, condemned towander the same halls and
courtyards where they died.
Theory three the curse of thedoctor.
(14:54):
And then there's the asylumdoctor, you know, the one who
fell or was pushed from the belltower.
In Venetian folklore, whensomeone dies unjustly, they can
become something worse than aghost, a warden, a keeper.
And if that's true, maybe heisn't gone at all, maybe he
(15:17):
still stalks the ruins, makingsure no one ever leaves.
All right.
So let me step out of the storyfor a second, because I've been
thinking about this whilewriting, and here's where I land
.
I don't think you need folkloreto be afraid of Poveglia.
If you know the history, if youknow tens of thousands of
(15:38):
people suffered here, that aloneis enough to mess with your
head.
Fear primes you.
It puts you on edge before youever set foot on the island.
It puts you on edge before youever set foot on the island.
So maybe that's all it takes.
You hear an echo and you swearit's a voice.
You see a shadow move andyou're convinced that it's some
kind of figure.
Your own mind turns the silenceinto screams and honestly, that
(16:04):
makes sense to me.
That explanation feels safe.
It keeps the world ordinary.
But then there are the details.
I can't shake the burns, thescratches, the recordings of
voices when no one's there.
Those aren't hallucinations.
(16:25):
You can't chalk that up to fear.
So maybe there is somethingmore here.
Maybe this island really doeshold on to its dead.
And if that's true, if thisplace really is a cage for every
soul lost in it, then maybe thescariest part isn't that people
hear voices when they visit.
Maybe the scariest part is thatsome of those voices are still
(16:50):
calling for help.
Of course, skeptics have theirown theories.
They point to toxins in thesoil, gases from centuries of
burned remains.
They point to mold in the ruinscapable of warping the brain.
Some even suggest magneticanomalies that scramble
(17:11):
compasses and electronics.
And maybe they're right.
Maybe Poveglia is haunted byscience, not spirits.
But then you ask the locals,the fishermen, the families
who've lived in Venice forcenturies, and they'll tell you
the same thing every time wedon't go there.
(17:34):
Poveglia sits in silence.
Now the hospital is empty, thebell tower leans over the ruins
and the lagoon laps against theshore like it's keeping a secret
.
History says it was aquarantine site, an asylum,
nothing more.
But if you walk through what'sleft, if you stand in that
(17:55):
courtyard where ash still clingsto the soil, it doesn't feel
like nothing more, because thisisn't just where people died,
it's where they were erased.
No names, no graves, no prayers, just fire.
And maybe that's why theylinger.
(18:15):
Maybe that's why people stillhear the screams, because when
you burn the voices of theforgotten, you don't silence
them, you just scatter them onthe wind.
Now skeptics will tell you it'stoxins in the soil, mold in the
walls, magnetic fields, andmaybe that explains part of it.
(18:37):
But it doesn't explain thebruises, it doesn't explain the
burns, it doesn't explain thebones that still wash ashore and
it doesn't explain why, evenafter centuries, venetians all
agree on one thing you don't gothere.
So maybe Polveglia is haunted,or maybe the haunting is in us
(19:02):
Our fear, our guilt, our refusalto let the past rest.
Either way, step onto thatisland and you're not walking on
ordinary ground, you're walkingon ash, you're walking on bone,
you're walking on the deadthemselves.
And that's the thing aboutplaces like this Some stories
(19:25):
don't stay buried, some placesdon't forgive and some questions
follow you home.
Poveglia may be closed,abandoned, left to rot in the
lagoon, but silence doesn't meanpeace.
Eglia may be closed, abandoned,left to rot in the lagoon, but
silence doesn't mean peace.
And forgetting doesn't mean thepast is gone.
This island is more than stonewalls and empty corridors.
(19:50):
It's a graveyard withoutheadstones, a wound without
healing.
And whether you call it haunted, cursed or just scarred by
history, one truth remainsPolveiglia doesn't let go.
Some say the screams are echoesof the plague years.
Some say the shadows belong tothe asylum's dead.
(20:13):
Others believe it's the islanditself that hungers, feeding on
fear.
But maybe the scariest partisn't what waits there now.
Maybe it's what was always truethat human suffering leaves
marks you can't erase that, evenafter centuries.
(20:33):
Ash still clings to the soiland bones still rise with the
tide.
And if this story unsettles you,I'd urge you to look deeper,
because the history of Povegliais just as fascinating as the
legends.
There are records, reports andtestimonies stretching back
(20:56):
centuries.
Some explain parts of the story, others raise more questions
than they answer.
It's a place where history andfolklore blur until you can't
tell where one ends and theother begins.
This has been Out of State, acompanion series from State of
(21:18):
the Unknown.
Short journeys into legendsbeyond America's borders.
If you've been enjoying theshow, follow rate and share it
with someone who can't resist astory that lingers.
And until next time, remember.
On some islands, the grounditself remembers what we'd
(21:39):
rather forget.
A quick note before we begin.
This episode containsreferences to plague deaths,
human remains and accounts ofpsychiatric mistreatment.
Some details may be disturbingand, as always, what follows is
a mix of documented history,folklore and reported
experiences.
This is a story of how trauma,tragedy and legend have shaped
(00:24):
one of the world's most infamousplaces.
Listener, discretion is advised.
More than 100,000 people wereburned alive on this island and
the ground is still thick withtheir ash.
It's called Poviglia, a speck ofland off Venice, sealed off by
(00:45):
the Italian government.
There are no ferries, there areno tours.
Fishermen won't even sail nearit.
First came the plague Bodiespiled up so fast, they lit pyres
that never went out.
The air was black, the soilturned gray and the screams
(01:08):
carried across the lagoon.
Then came the asylum, ahospital where no one got better
.
Patients whispered aboutshadows that stalked them.
A doctor cut and drilled insecret until he climbed the bell
tower and either jumped or wasthrown.
(01:28):
Today the island rots.
Windows gape like broken eyes.
The bell tower leans over emptycourtyards.
But people who sneak ashore saythe island isn't empty.
They hear moans, smell smoke,see figures watching from the
(01:48):
ruins and sometimes bones stillwash up with the tide.
This isn't just haunted ground,it's curse.
I'm your host, robert Barber,and this is Out of State, a
(02:17):
companion series to State of theUnknown.
Short journeys into legendsbeyond America's borders,
stories of folklore, hauntingsand shadows from the other side
of the map.
Let's step into the dark.
Polviklia isn't large.
(02:40):
From a distance it looks likenothing more than a smudge of
green floating in the Venetianlagoon.
But step closer and the detailsstart to emerge.
A crumbling bell tower leansabove the tree line, its windows
hollow Around it.
The ruins of brick buildingscollapse in on themselves, roofs
(03:03):
gone, walls cracked, wide opento the sky.
Half swallowed by ivy andbrambles, the ground sinks in
places as though the islanditself is rotting.
Locals say that's because thesoil is mixed with ash and bone.
The air is damp, heavy with thesmell of the lagoon.
(03:24):
On calm days, the silence feelssuffocating.
On windy nights, the waterslaps against stone, echoing
through the ruins like footsteps.
It doesn't feel abandoned, itfeels watched.
But Polveglia wasn't alwaysthis way.
(03:45):
Before the plague it was justone more island in the Venetian
lagoon, a quiet patch of landwith families who fished the
waters and tended their gardens.
Children played in thecourtyards where the ruins now
stand.
The bell tower rang across thewater not as a warning but as a
(04:06):
call to gather.
It was small, ordinary andunremarkable, and maybe that's
the cruelest part that a placeso unassuming could become one
of the darkest corners ofVenetian history.
In the 1300s, the Black Deathswept through Europe like
(04:27):
wildfire.
Venice was one of the hardesthit.
The city was a hub of trade,with ships sailing in from every
direction carrying silks, spiceand plague.
At first, the Venetians triedto contain it within the city.
Doctors in long beaked masksmoved through the streets.
(04:50):
Those are the plague doctors.
We see Halloween costumes oftoday stuffing herbs and vinegar
into their strange bird-likenoses, hoping it would keep out
the infection.
They didn't understand germsback then, but they knew.
The air itself seemed poisoned.
And still people died by thethousands.
(05:13):
So the Venetian Senate made adecision the sick, anyone
showing the black sores, thefever, the rattle in the chest,
would be taken away, not treated, not cared for, just removed.
And where did they send them?
Here To Poveglia.
(05:34):
Picture it A ship pulls intothe lagoon, men with poles and
hooks prodding at bodies alreadyhalf dead, hurting them down
the gangplank.
Families, separated mothersscreaming for children as
they're dragged onto shoreSoldiers watching from a
distance, their faces wrapped incloth.
(05:56):
There were no hospitals here, nochurches, just crude wooden
shacks hastily built to hold theinfected until they collapsed.
And collapse they did by thehundreds, by the thousands.
The dead piled up so quickly.
There was no time for coffins,no priests to bless the ground.
(06:18):
They dug pits where they could,and when the pits filled up
they lit the pyres.
Day and night, the fires burned, the smoke rolled across the
water, drifting into Venice sothick people claimed they could
taste it on their tongues.
Ash fell back onto the islandlike gray snow coating the soil,
(06:41):
seeping into every crack ofearth.
Some records claim 160,000people died here, others say
even more.
However you count it, theground became less dirt and more
bone.
To this day, people claim thatover half the soil is made up of
(07:02):
human ash.
Even the plants seem sick here.
Like the ground is made up ofhuman ash.
Even the plants seem sick here,like the ground is poisoned
from the inside out.
Could that be why the grasswithers in strange patches, or
why the trees twist in ways thatdon't look natural?
Even the fishermen keep away.
They'll tell you, if your netdrags too close to poloveglia,
(07:25):
you won't catch fish, you'llcatch bones, a femur, a skull, a
jawbone, with teeth stillinside.
They say when that happens, youdon't keep it, you throw it
back fast before it curses yourfamily.
Before it curses your family,poveglia became a word you
(07:45):
didn't say out loud, a place youdidn't look at when you passed.
Everyone knew what it was Notan island, but a graveyard.
But the thing about graveyardsis at least the dead are meant
to rest On Poveglia they didn't.
(08:06):
The island was too full of pain, too full of terror, too full
of bodies that never had lastrites, never had prayers, just
screams that faded into smoke.
And in that silence somethingdarker took root.
By the 1900s you'd think thisisland would finally be left
(08:29):
alone.
Too many dead, too much ash inthe ground.
But no, they built a hospitalhere and before long it turned
into an asylum.
Patients were brought in withreal illnesses, but what they
claimed they saw wasn't human.
They said voices called to themat night.
(08:51):
They said shadows followed themthrough the halls.
Some swore they saw faces atthe windows, faces that didn't
belong to the living.
The doctors laughed it off,said it was madness.
But the rumors about one doctor,well, those never went away.
He worked in the upper floorsof the hospital and what he did
(09:16):
there no one really knows.
The stories say he drilled intopeople's skulls, cut them open,
burned them, treatments thatweren't treatments at all.
And then there's the bell tower, the only piece of the island
you can still see standing tallfrom the water.
They say one night that doctorclimbed to the very top.
(09:41):
Maybe the gills got to him,maybe the voices pushed him over
the edge.
Voices pushed him over the edge, literally.
The story goes he jumped, ormaybe someone pushed him.
Some say he survived the fall.
But when he hit the ground ablack mist rose up from the
(10:02):
island itself, wrapped aroundhis neck and choked the life out
of him.
The nurses claimed they saw ithappen, said his screams carried
across the lagoon hours beforehe finally died.
The tower still stands andpeople who sneak inside swear.
They can still hear it, theclang of a bell that hasn't rung
(10:25):
in a hundred years.
And when the bell tolls, that'swhen they see her, a woman
moving through the corridors,her face burned, her eyes hollow
, trailing smoke like the pyresthat once lit the island.
No one agrees on who she isPlague victim, patient, nurse.
(10:47):
But they agree on this.
When the bell calls, she walks.
Today, poveglia is sealed.
The Italian government hasbanned visitors for decades.
But bans don't keep everyoneout.
People sneak in and what theybring back aren't just stories.
(11:08):
They bring back recordings ofscreams captured in empty
corridors.
They bring back scratches ontheir arms, burns on their skin.
They bring back nightmares thatkeep them awake long after
they've left the island.
The first thing they notice isthe silence.
It isn't normal quiet.
(11:30):
It's heavy, like the wholeplace is holding its breath.
Even the wind sounds muted.
Then the noises start Footstepson stone floors above them,
though the rooms are empty.
Doors slamming shut down thehall, a whisper that seems to
come from behind your ear,though you're standing alone.
(11:51):
One group of thrill-seekersswore they heard screaming in
the bell tower, a man's voice,raw and desperate.
But when they climbed thestairs the room was deserted no
one there, no bell, just dust.
Others described the smell asharp, choking stench of smoke
(12:13):
and iron, as if the fires neverwent out.
It clings to their clothes longafter they leave.
And then the figures Shadowsmoving across walls where there
should be nothing, doctors inwhite coats who vanish when you
blink.
Women in gowns drifting downhallways.
(12:33):
Their faces scorched, theirhands reaching.
Visitors say they've beentouched, cold fingers brushing
their necks, sleeves tugged hardenough to pull them off balance
.
Some claim they've been shovedso violently they were thrown to
the ground.
And outside the lagoon carriesits own reminders, fishermen say
(12:58):
their nets sometimes drag upbones, skulls, teeth, fragments
of spine.
It's the kind of catch thatmakes them hurl everything back
into the water and row hard forshore.
Even those who laugh it off atfirst, who say we didn't see
anything, it was just an oldruin, end up changing their tune
(13:20):
.
Weeks later they reportwhispers in their homes, shadows
in the corners, dreams of fireand smoke they can't wake from,
because Poveglia doesn't let youleave clean, it follows you.
Some say the island is hauntedbecause of what happened here
the trauma, the death, the fearthat soaked into the ground and
(13:44):
never left.
There are a number of theoriesfor why these souls can't rest.
Theory one energy of mass death.
The idea is simple Places ofviolence hold echoes and
Poveglia is nothing but violence.
Tens of thousands of livesended in terror, their screams
(14:09):
carried on the wind, theirbodies turned to ash.
If that kind of sufferingleaves a mark, this island would
be branded forever.
Theory two restless spiritswithout burial rites In Catholic
tradition.
The dead need last rites InCatholic tradition.
(14:30):
The dead need last rites.
They need a priest, prayers, agrave.
The plague victims here gotnone of that Just fire, just ash
.
Some believe their souls can'tmove on.
They're trapped, condemned towander the same halls and
courtyards where they died.
Theory three the curse of thedoctor.
(14:54):
And then there's the asylumdoctor, you know, the one who
fell or was pushed from the belltower.
In Venetian folklore, whensomeone dies unjustly, they can
become something worse than aghost, a warden, a keeper.
And if that's true, maybe heisn't gone at all, maybe he
(15:17):
still stalks the ruins, makingsure no one ever leaves.
All right.
So let me step out of the storyfor a second, because I've been
thinking about this whilewriting, and here's where I land
.
I don't think you need folkloreto be afraid of Poveglia.
If you know the history, if youknow tens of thousands of
(15:38):
people suffered here, that aloneis enough to mess with your
head.
Fear primes you.
It puts you on edge before youever set foot on the island.
It puts you on edge before youever set foot on the island.
So maybe that's all it takes.
You hear an echo and you swearit's a voice.
You see a shadow move andyou're convinced that it's some
kind of figure.
Your own mind turns the silenceinto screams and honestly, that
(16:04):
makes sense to me.
That explanation feels safe.
It keeps the world ordinary.
But then there are the details.
I can't shake the burns, thescratches, the recordings of
voices when no one's there.
Those aren't hallucinations.
(16:25):
You can't chalk that up to fear.
So maybe there is somethingmore here.
Maybe this island really doeshold on to its dead.
And if that's true, if thisplace really is a cage for every
soul lost in it, then maybe thescariest part isn't that people
hear voices when they visit.
Maybe the scariest part is thatsome of those voices are still
(16:50):
calling for help.
Of course, skeptics have theirown theories.
They point to toxins in thesoil, gases from centuries of
burned remains.
They point to mold in the ruinscapable of warping the brain.
Some even suggest magneticanomalies that scramble
(17:11):
compasses and electronics.
And maybe they're right.
Maybe Poveglia is haunted byscience, not spirits.
But then you ask the locals,the fishermen, the families
who've lived in Venice forcenturies, and they'll tell you
the same thing every time wedon't go there.
(17:34):
Poveglia sits in silence.
Now the hospital is empty, thebell tower leans over the ruins
and the lagoon laps against theshore like it's keeping a secret
.
History says it was aquarantine site, an asylum,
nothing more.
But if you walk through what'sleft, if you stand in that
(17:55):
courtyard where ash still clingsto the soil, it doesn't feel
like nothing more, because thisisn't just where people died,
it's where they were erased.
No names, no graves, no prayers, just fire.
And maybe that's why theylinger.
(18:15):
Maybe that's why people stillhear the screams, because when
you burn the voices of theforgotten, you don't silence
them, you just scatter them onthe wind.
Now skeptics will tell you it'stoxins in the soil, mold in the
walls, magnetic fields, andmaybe that explains part of it.
(18:37):
But it doesn't explain thebruises, it doesn't explain the
burns, it doesn't explain thebones that still wash ashore and
it doesn't explain why, evenafter centuries, venetians all
agree on one thing you don't gothere.
So maybe Polveglia is haunted,or maybe the haunting is in us
(19:02):
Our fear, our guilt, our refusalto let the past rest.
Either way, step onto thatisland and you're not walking on
ordinary ground, you're walkingon ash, you're walking on bone,
you're walking on the deadthemselves.
And that's the thing aboutplaces like this Some stories
(19:25):
don't stay buried, some placesdon't forgive and some questions
follow you home.
Poveglia may be closed,abandoned, left to rot in the
lagoon, but silence doesn't meanpeace.
Eglia may be closed, abandoned,left to rot in the lagoon, but
silence doesn't mean peace.
And forgetting doesn't mean thepast is gone.
This island is more than stonewalls and empty corridors.
(19:50):
It's a graveyard withoutheadstones, a wound without
healing.
And whether you call it haunted, cursed or just scarred by
history, one truth remainsPolveiglia doesn't let go.
Some say the screams are echoesof the plague years.
Some say the shadows belong tothe asylum's dead.
(20:13):
Others believe it's the islanditself that hungers, feeding on
fear.
But maybe the scariest partisn't what waits there now.
Maybe it's what was always truethat human suffering leaves
marks you can't erase that, evenafter centuries.
(20:33):
Ash still clings to the soiland bones still rise with the
tide.
And if this story unsettles you,I'd urge you to look deeper,
because the history of Povegliais just as fascinating as the
legends.
There are records, reports andtestimonies stretching back
(20:56):
centuries.
Some explain parts of the story, others raise more questions
than they answer.
It's a place where history andfolklore blur until you can't
tell where one ends and theother begins.
This has been Out of State, acompanion series from State of
(21:18):
the Unknown.
Short journeys into legendsbeyond America's borders.
If you've been enjoying theshow, follow rate and share it
with someone who can't resist astory that lingers.
And until next time, remember.
On some islands, the grounditself remembers what we'd
(21:39):
rather forget.
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