08 - PD Goth by Various

Immerse yourself in a chilling collection of eerie tales carefully selected from the vast library of Project Gutenberg, brought to life through the captivating narration of BellonaTimes.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:01):
Section eight of p D. Goth This is a LibriVox recording.
All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more
information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. This
recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The

(00:21):
Headless Skeleton of Swamptown by Charles M. Skinner. The boggy
portion of North Kingston, Rhode Island, known as Swamptown, is
of queer repute in its neighborhood for Hell Hollow, Pork Hill,
Indian Corner, and Kettle Hull have their stories of Indian

(00:42):
crimes in witch meetings. Here, the headless figure of a
Negro boy was seen by a belated traveler on a
path that leads over the hills. It was a dark
night and the figure was revealed in a blaze of
blue light. It swayed to and fro for a while,
then from the ground with a lurch and shot into space,

(01:03):
leaving a trail of illumination behind it. Here, too is
Goose Nest Spring, where the witches dance at night. It
dries up every winter and flows through the summer, gushing
forth on the same day of every year, except once
when a goose took possession of the empty bed and
hatched her brood there. That time the water did not

(01:24):
flow until she got away with her progeny. But the
most gruesome story of the place is that of the
Indian whose skull was found by a road mender. The
unsuspecting person took it home, and as the women would
not allow him to carry it into the house, he
hung it on a pole outside. Just as the people
were starting for bed, there came a rattling at the door,

(01:48):
and looking out of the windows, they saw a skeleton
stalking around in quick and angry strides, like those of
a person looking for something. But how could that be
when the skeleton had neither eyes nor a pl place
to carry them. It thrashed its bony arms impatiently, and
its ribs rattled like a xylophone. The spectators were transfixed

(02:09):
with fear, all except the culprit, who said through the window,
in a matter of fact way, I left your head
on the pole at the back door. The skeletons started
in that direction, seized the skull, clapped it into the
place where a hedge should have grown on its own shoulders,
and after shaking its fist in a threatening way at
the house, disappeared in the darkness. It is said that

(02:32):
he acts as a kind of guard in the neighborhood,
to see that none of the other Indians buried there
shall be disturbed as he was. His principal lounging place
is Indian Corner, where there is a rock from which
blood flows when the moon shines, a memento doubtless of
some tragedy that occurred there in times before the white
men knew the place. There is iron in the soil,

(02:55):
and visitors say that the red color is due to that,
and that the spring would flow just as freely on
dark nights as on bright ones, if any were there
to see it. But the natives, who have given some
thought to these matters no better. End of Section eight.