Ep237 - The Curse Of The Bennington Triangle

Deep in the Green Mountains, there’s a patch of wilderness the guidebooks skip over. A place locals only dare whisper about. Where hunters never return and hikers step off the trail and, seemingly, off the face of the Earth. They call it the Bennington Triangle—a stretch of cursed ground wrapped in mystery, folklore, and an unnamable fear. From strange lights flickering in the forest canopy, to phantom sounds echoing across the marshlands, and even a chilling string of disappearances between 1945 and 1950, Glastenbury Mountain has earned its reputation as Vermont’s Bermuda Triangle. Five souls—young, old, experienced, and unprepared alike—all swallowed by the woods without a trace. And theories abound: A hidden serial killer? What of the rumors of a violent creature lurking in the woods, the Bennington Monster? Interdimensional portals yawning open on the Long Trail, or maybe something even older... something ancient. Citizens of the Milky Way prepare yourselves for The Curse of the Bennington Triangle!

Music and Editing by Gage Hurley

Check out VaporVerse: https://www.youtube.com/@vaporversemusic 

++++ 

Check out our Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/creepstreetpodcast

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/creepstreetpodcast

YouTube: https://youtube.com/@creepstreetpodcast5062?feature=shared

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@creepstreetpodcast

#BenningtonTriangle #Vermont #VermontLife #Bennington #BenningtonVT #GreenMountainState #NewEngland #NewEnglandMysteries #VermontHistory #VermontHaunted #VermontGhosts #HauntedVermont #WeirdVermont #StrangeVermont #GlastenburyMountain #LongTrail #VermontPodcast #VermontFolklore #paranormal #paranormalpodcast #paranormalactivity #paranormalstories #paranormalinvestigation #haunted #hauntedplaces #hauntedhistory #ghoststories #ghosthunters #ghost #ghosthunting #unsolvedmysteries #mystery #mysteries #mysterypodcast #creepypodcast #spookystories #creepystories #highstrangeness #fortean #cryptids #cryptidcore #ufo #ufosightings #aliens #strangebuttrue #urbanlegends #americanfolklore #folklore #darkhistory #truecrime #occult #supernatural #strangephenomena #creepstreetpodcast

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:06):
Vermont, the green mountain state where the air is crisp,
the maple syrup is pure, and every sunset feels like
a painting.

Speaker 2 (00:16):
Come for our charming small towns, stay for our world
class scheme, or relax with a warm cup of cider
in one of our many cozy cafes.

Speaker 1 (00:26):
And most importantly, don't don't hike into Glastonbury Mountain.

Speaker 2 (00:32):
Right. Not a great spot for beginners.

Speaker 1 (00:35):
No, not a great spot for anyone. The forest will
unmake you. The trees will whisper your name.

Speaker 2 (00:42):
As you enjoy scenic drives. Visit our artisanal cheese shops.

Speaker 1 (00:48):
Stay away from the long trail north of Rude nine,
Stay away from the marshlands, stay away from the yawning stone.

Speaker 2 (00:56):
Craig, stop it and be sure to try our award
winning maple candy.

Speaker 1 (01:02):
It's always watching the mountain eats names. I have seen
the hollow where time stops.

Speaker 2 (01:08):
That's right. Delicacy is so sumptuous, it feels like time
has stopped with every bite. And if you're into craft beer,
Vermont's gotcha.

Speaker 3 (01:17):
Cop The trees have teeth, The mountain is hollow.

Speaker 2 (01:22):
It's it's hollow, mall, Craig, we talked about this. It's
still in me.

Speaker 1 (01:29):
I can feel it moving.

Speaker 2 (01:32):
Vermont so much to love.

Speaker 3 (01:45):
The Vermont Tourism Board reminds all visitors that the Glasston
Barry Anomaly Containment Authority maintains sole jurisdiction over all entities
of non terrestrial or extra dimensional origin. Guests are encouraged
to carry a umpass, a crucifix, and at least three
days of potable water. Should you become disoriented, please remain calm,

(02:07):
refrain from screaming, and fill out a lost person's self
identification form available at all ranger stations. In most post offices,
Prolonged eye contact with the mountains is not advised. Whistling
after dark is strongly discouraged. Do not respond to voices
calling your name from the tree line.

Speaker 1 (02:26):
We have known the darkness since before the stalls.

Speaker 2 (02:30):
We all lead back to Hell with you creature.

Speaker 1 (02:36):
For those traveling with pets, be advised that cats are
not recognized under the current extra dimensional liability statutes. Dogs, however,
may qualify for hazard pay under Section fourteen Subsection C
of the Recreational Safety Code. If you encounter an anomaly,
please report it to your nearest park ranger, unless the

(02:56):
rangers already whispering and reverse Latin, in which case we
suggest you politely excuse yourself and walk briskly in the
opposite direction. All disappearances are considered fine, no refunds. Side
effects of visiting may include time slippage, loss of sanity,
and spontaneous relocation to non Euclidean spaces. Thank you for

(03:17):
choosing Vermont.

Speaker 2 (03:19):
Eh Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with.

Speaker 1 (03:22):
You, Vermont, so much to love. Just not here, citizens

(04:01):
of the Milky Way. My name is Dylan Hackworth Hurley. Oh,
and you have arrived in the powdery slopes of the
Creep Street Podcast. That's right, we're headed back up to
the northeast of the United States, folks. Put on that
flannel shirt, grab your lumberjack and axe. Grab some maple syrup, folks,

(04:26):
because we are headed to Vermont to talk about a
very peculiar portion of Vermont. Now, we've all heard of
the Bermuda Triangle, right, and believe me, that will be
covered soon on this show. But no, no, this one
is decidedly less tropical, all right, a little more frasier

(04:47):
fur than palm tree, let's say, folks. This week's episode
is the curse of the Bennington Triangle. Mmm mmm mmm mmm,
that's right back to the good old Northeast, folks, where

(05:07):
Vermont's got a mountain meaner than an old junkyard dog.
Glastonbury Mountain not as famous, of course, as New Hampshire's
Mount Washington, sure, but it's got a resume padded with
far stranger and darker credentials. It sits hunched in the
green Mountains near Bennington, a patch of land so inhospitable

(05:31):
and twisted it feels like God intended it to be
that way, to be remote, inaccessible, all lined with jagged
out croppings and blackwater marshes stagnant pools. Since before the
first colonial boots ever crunched the underbrush, this area of
Vermont has had a rather a bleak reputation, one that

(05:56):
includes strange lights in the sky, flickering through the tree line,
sounds you can't quite place. Since that you can't identify,
ghosts said to drift through the pines like smoke, and things,
things with shapes you almost recognize before they're gone, Ones

(06:18):
that leave a scar on your memory that you'll carry
to the gray Now, long before anyone was carving pumpkins
are selling maple syrup. The Native Americans already had Glastonbury's number,
and they gave it a wide berth, only going around
there when necessary. It's said that the land was cursed,

(06:39):
and perhaps it always was. No villagers, no hunting camps,
just a graveyard, a place to bury the dead and
then quickly get the hell out of there before something
decides to bury you too. Centuries later, a handful of
colonial families got the bri Idea to set up shop

(07:01):
and what would become the now vanished town of Glastonbury.
And by my use of the phrase now vanished, you
can tell that it didn't go well. The land seemed
to have a personal vendetta against all who tread upon it.
Disease seemed to hit like clockwork. Mothers would die in

(07:22):
childbirth and madness and we're talking good old fashioned stare
at the wall until you drew al type of madness. Well,
it made itself a permanent resident of the area. It's
a place that chewed people up and spat them out
as soon as their colonial ships touched land. And it
was on these sinister slopes, thick with shadow and bad auras,

(07:46):
that a coach full of travelers once had the misfortune
of meeting these so called Bennington Monster. Nobody could say
exactly what it was, only that this thing was big, fast,
and apparently in the mood for a little roadside chaos,
everything you'd expect out of a monster. Well, not long after,

(08:09):
in eighteen ninety two, a man named Henry McDowell went
completely haywire and murdered a man named Jim Crowley, and
the court stamped him as legally insane shipped him off
to the Watersbury Asylum to spend out the rest of
his days. Oh but his days there would not be many,

(08:30):
at least in the asylum, because McDowell busted out and disappeared.
Some folks say he simply slipped back into the wilds
of Glastonbury and he's been there ever since. Today, those
mountains still brewed under the same low clouds. People still
swap dark tails over coffee and whiskey, debating whether monsters

(08:54):
really are at work in those hills or whether the
so called curse still has genuine teeth. One thing is
for sure, though, and it's beyond debate, that Glastonbury Mountain
the area was the stage for one of Vermont's most
unnerving mysteries, and this one didn't happen in some dusty,

(09:17):
far off century. It was actually recent enough to make
the front page of papers all over New England. Starting
in as late as nineteen forty five, people began disappearing
around Glastonbury Mountain. Not one or two high profile stories,
but something closer to ten. Men women simply gone. No

(09:43):
ransom notes or footprints left behind in the snow, nor
were there even bodies or blood trails to follow. They
were just gone. Thousands of hours of searching would turn
up nothing, not even a shred of clothing or a
dropped cigarette butt. To this day, the mystery sits right there.

(10:03):
Let's start with old Man Rivers. The first card on
the table was dealt to a man named Middy Rivers
on November twelfth, nineteen forty five. Rivers was seventy four
years old, local born, local bread, and about as close
as you can get to a human compass. He had

(10:23):
spent a lifetime guiding hunters and fishermen through the folds
and shadows of the surrounding mountains. And that day the
weather was unseasonably kind, air was mild, the skies were
calm overhead. His Rivers led four hunters up the slopes
the way you or I might stroll to the corner store.

(10:45):
But on the way back he slipped a little ahead
of the group, not sprinting, not running, just a quiet
lead out of the trail. The group he was leading
would never see him again. Police involvedolunteers searched for hours.
Hours turned into days. The optimism held, I mean, this

(11:08):
was a man who could light a fire with wet
matches and navigate blindfolded. Surely he would be fine. But
soon the search stretched into a month, and the Mountain
gave nothing in return to those looking, not a scrap
of clothing or a bootprint in the mud. Mister Middie

(11:29):
Rivers had simply stepped off the face of the earth
at sea. The second car that the Mountain played came
just a year later, on December one, nineteen forty six.
This victim's name was Paula Weldon. She was only eighteen
years old in a Bennington College sophomore from Stamford, Connecticut.

(11:51):
It was a Sunday afternoon when she stepped out of
Dewey Hall for what she told friends would be a
short hike on the Long trail. She caught a ride
with a local man as far as Woodford Hollow, where
he dropped her off near his home. Then around four pm,
a man named Ernest Whitman, a journalist for the Bennington Banner.

(12:13):
He gave her directions and then others spotted her. After that.
She stood five foot five and a bright red parka,
which would have stood out like a flare gun against
the winter woods. This would be the last time anyone
saw her. By Monday afternoon, it was clear Paula wasn't
just running late. This girl had gone dang missing. The

(12:37):
college even called the Sheriff's department, and soon the search
was on. Four hundred people, including students, professors, townfolk, all
fanned out through the hills, but alas nothing would turn up.
Then Governor Mortimer Proctor brought in the FBI and even
the New York and Connecticut State Police. Bloodhounds swept the trails,

(13:03):
planes and helicopters buzzed the tree tops overhead. A five
thousand dollars reward was offered. A famous clairvoyant was even
consulted to find Paula. Weeks passed and still no trays.
By December twenty second, the official search was called off.

(13:26):
No body had been found, not even clothing, not even
a scrap of fabric torn off on a branch somewhere.
The only fact that anyone could cling to was this,
a young eighteen year old woman in a bright red
parka took a walk into the Vermont Hills and never
came back. Now let's move on to our next person here,

(13:49):
and we're gonna start noticing a little pattern. The third
disappearance literally hit like clockwork, exactly three years to the
day after Paula Weldon vanished. It was December first in
nineteen forty nine, when an elderly man named James E.
Tedford had been up north visiting relatives. His family put

(14:13):
him on a bus in Saint Albans bound for the
soldier's home there in Bennington. He boarded the bus and
witnesses reported they saw him on the ride. In fact,
he was spotted at the stop just before Bennington and
then nothing. Here's the thing. No one saw him get

(14:34):
off the bus. No one saw him even leave his seat.
But people do remember seeing him on the bus, but
he was gone. The bus pulled in. His luggage was
still on the rack, his timetable still in his pocket,
but Tedford was nowhere. Even the driver had no explanation,

(15:00):
Like the man literally just blinked out of existence without
even having to step off the bus. And what is
it about December first? How weird is that three years
to the day and Middi rivers, I mean it wasn't
exactly a year, but he vanished November twelfth, nineteen forty five.
Paula goes missing December first, nineteen forty six, and now

(15:21):
we have James Tedford going missing on December first, nineteen
forty nine.

Speaker 2 (15:26):
I noticed that too. It's it's like in the winter,
the early winter.

Speaker 1 (15:31):
Right right, that late fall, early winter kind of time
zone right there. And literally, and I know that we've
said it a few times, but literally almost like clockwork,
exactly like clockwork in the case of Tedford and Paula,
like literally the day three years later they went missing,
like absolutely astounding. And the fact that James, this is

(15:54):
just so weird to me because the fact that he
was on the bus. People saw him on the bus,
the bus driver driving the I mean, there's only one
way out the bus, right and that's by the driver's seat,
like he would have seen James get off at another stop.
People had seen him even just before the Bennington stop,
it says, and yet it's like he just was plucked

(16:17):
out of existence, right out of the bus itself. Well, folks, folks, folks.
Keeping with the theme of Autumn, it was not even
a year later, on Columbus Day, which is October. This
was nineteen fifty when an eight year old boy named
Paul Jepson disappeared in the blink of an eye. His

(16:39):
parents were farmers who doubled his caretakers at the town dump.
They were both working that day. Paul sat in the
family pick up, wearing a bright red jacket that should
have made him stand out once again like a flare
gun on that gray October day, much like Paula's red

(16:59):
jacket should have made her stand out. His mother stepped away,
literally for just a moment, to move some pigs, and
when she looked back, Paul was gone. He wasn't in
the truck or anywhere near it. It was between three
or four in the afternoon. There was nowhere to hide,
nowhere to run, and yet Paul was gone. They called

(17:23):
in help immediately, especially considering this is an eight year
old boy. Volunteers and officials combed the dump, they combed
the roads the mountain. This time they even did a
double check system. One search party scoured an area and
another went over the same ground right after, as sort
of like a double checking, you know, a triple checking

(17:45):
your work essentially, But still not a single trace, not
even a footprint. Paul, this eight year old boy in
the red jacket, just like those before him, was simply gone.
Coastguard planes circled overhead, while local psychics even lent their
gifts to the search, but neither made a dent. The

(18:10):
bloodhounds were brought in from New Hampshire State Police, and
what was strange was they actually picked up and followed
Paul's trail through the cris Bottom are until it stopped
cold at the junction of East and Chapel Roads west
of Glastonbury Mountain. And here's where it gets truly unsettling.

(18:33):
Local legend says that's the same exact spot where PAULA.
Weldon was last seen two disappearances years apart, ending at
the same invisible wall, and both wearing clothing that should
have been easy to spot now. At one point, Paul's

(18:54):
father mentioned a strange detail something he actually hadn't thought
about much before. Before his disappearance, Paul had developed what
he called a quote unaccountable yen to go into the mountains,
no reason or explanation offered, just to pull towards those dark,
silent hills, which I can understand why in the moment

(19:17):
you wouldn't think about it. I mean, kids are kids,
like who wouldn't you know it's a mountain? Like granted,
now if you are raised around him, they aren't as
mystifying as they are for maybe, say, like whenever I
see mountains, it's it always still, you know, because I
come from a flat land. So when I see mountains,
I'm you know, I'm drawn to them because it's like wow,
you know. So it's natural eight year old boys, probably

(19:39):
filled with adventure, wants to go out and have fun.
So I can understand why the dad at first wouldn't
see that as anything unusual. I mean, it's a kid.
He probably just wants to go play.

Speaker 2 (19:49):
But actually to like, if he did venture to the
mountain by himself, that it's not surprising that he'd be
fascinated by him. It's very surprising that eight years old
he would actually venture up to the mountain.

Speaker 1 (20:03):
By himself exactly right. On October fourteenth, nineteen fifty, the
Bennington Banner laid it out plainly, saying, the mystery of
Paul's complete disappearance and not a single clue to work
on makes the third fourth counting Tedford, such a case
of a missing person and practically the same area during

(20:24):
the past five years. Whatever was happening in the woods
surrounding Glastonbury Mountain, it was no longer looking like a coincidence.
A pattern was starting to take shape, and it was
an ugly one. Well. It was about two weeks later,
on Saturday twenty eighth, just a few days before Halloween,

(20:47):
and a woman named Frieda Langer, set out on a
hike with her cousin, Herbert Elsner. They left from their
family camp on the eastern side of Glastonbury Mountain near
Somerset Reservoir. Rio wasn't some city slicker out looking for
some week ind fun. No, My sources say she was
a fifty three year old, tough as nail, short gal

(21:09):
and apparently was a crack shot with a rifle and
no stranger to the local woods. She knew the land
like the back of her own weathered hand, and at
about three forty five pm, barely half a mile from camp,
she slipped and fell into a stream. Soaked through and
likely freezing, she told Herbert she'd just jogged back real quick,

(21:33):
change into some dry clothes, and be back to finish
the hike. Well, what have we learned? Huh? What did
scream teach us about saying I'll be right back? It
means she'd palladly not gonna be right back, Frida, And
of course Herbert her cousin, would not see her again,
nor would anyone else, because when Freda didn't come back,

(21:56):
Herbert decided to double back towards the camp to find her.
But not only had she failed to return, no one
else had seen her leave the woods at all. Given
the recent string of vanishings, local officials wasted no time.
They got right to work and a search was launched,
combing the force for any trace of her. Of course,

(22:17):
nothing was found, but on November first, General Merritt Edson,
Vermont State director of Public Safety, he called in a
second search. This time he gave an order straight out
of a pulp detective novel. He said, finder dead or alive.
Helicopters circled overhead amphibious planes skimmed the marshland. Legions of

(22:42):
searchers scoured the forest floor, but even Edson couldn't order
his men to do the impossible. No tracks, no scraps
of clothing, nothing was found, absolutely no sign she'd ever
even been out there at all. As the Bennington Banner
put it in one of their articles, quote, one of

(23:03):
the things hard to explain is how missus Langer could
have become so completely lost in an hour's time before
dark in her area with which she was so thoroughly familiar.
And let's remember that, like, these are people who are
familiar with the area. Now. I know, obviously accidents happen,
doesn't matter how experienced you are. I understand that. But

(23:26):
it doesn't sound like she was in any particular You know,
she wasn't climbing the Himalayas or something. You know, she
wasn't there was literally a hike in the Dang Woods.
It wasn't like she was trying to scale a mountain
or do anything like that. She was in an area
where she knew very well. And even let's say something
had happened, she tripped, she hit her head and she
died or something. How does no one find her. Yeah,

(23:48):
Like that's the thing. How does no one even find her?

Speaker 2 (23:51):
They utilize some serious resources to find her too. They
went all out and still nothing, not a dead body,
nothing at all, just no trace.

Speaker 1 (24:02):
And that's the thing about all the people we've talked
about so far. It's not even a mysterious death. It's
they just don't even know where the heck they went.
Like there's not even blood or like, right, no trace, right,
they're not even finding footprints. Well. On November fifth, the

(24:22):
search ramped up again. This time they went into full formation.
Three groups of thirty line shoulder to shoulder would sweep
through the forest like a human comb. If there was
a clue out there, it would have been nearly impossible
to miss. Well, good golly, they must have missed it,

(24:43):
because they found nothing. By the weekend of November eleventh,
officials unleash their biggest push yet. They called in professional sportsmen,
military and police units, firemen, and community volunteers. Over three
hundred pe people fanned out across the woods, and the

(25:04):
result another helping of Jack Diddley squat. Not a shoe print,
no fabric, not even the courtesy of a false lead
was found. By Monday, Freda's family surrendered to the inevitable.
After weeks of searching, the combined muscle of Vermont's civilian

(25:26):
and military might had come away with exactly nothing to
show for it, not a single solitary worthwhile clue. Some
sources like to pad the mystery out a little bit
with a couple of extra names, but the paper trail
tells a different story. On December third, nineteen fifty, just

(25:47):
days after the search for Frieda Langer had fizzled. And
keep in mind, it was December first that Paula and
the boy Paul had gone missing, So once again we're
working in this same area of time. Well, it was
just days after the search for Frida had fizzled when
Francis Christman left her home to walk to a friend's

(26:08):
place about a half a mile away. She never arrived.
The Bennington newspaper reported it, and yes, a woman really
did vanish. But here's the kicker. She vanished in Heinzburg, Vermont,
a solid one hundred and twenty miles north of Glastonbury,
which means if she was part of the Bennington triangle,

(26:30):
well then this is a pretty generous triangle. Then there's
teenager Martha Jeannetti Jones, who supposedly disappeared near Glastonbury on
November thirteenth, nineteen fifty. The time and place seemed to
fit until you keep on researching. Flipped to the December twentieth,
nineteen fifty issue of the Bennington Banner, and there she

(26:52):
is alive and well in a Kotnik, Virginia, near a
military base, working as a waitress. So I'm glad that
the sources didn't try to pad it out with obviously
these are tragic things, you know, the woman going missing,
but it was one hundred and twenty miles away. So
now how big is this triangle? We aren't really sure.

(27:12):
Triangle usually gets I found that, like the term triangle,
with exception of maybe the Bermuda triangle kind of gets
associated with a certain area oftentimes. So if there's a
certain area where things are weird, they'll kind of call
it a triangle. They'll usually in the triangle. The points
of the triangle are usually towns that kind of set
up the barrier of where the disappearance is. So maybe

(27:35):
you had someone at this town that's like the top point,
or you know all that stuff. So we obviously there's
no way to know if these other two people were
in any way affiliated with the story of the Bennington Triangle,
but needless to say, they did happen, whether they are
affiliated or not. Well, and it's a good thing to remember.
You know. An example we've used in the pall. You know,

(27:56):
we did early on, we did the Curse of kingtot
in Common. How the members after they discovered his tomb,
How the members of this expedition started to die off
in bizarre ways. Well, there's a certain amount of deaths
that happened within a few weeks, and it's like, wow,
that is weird. Now when you're including members of the
expedition that died twenty years later, it's like, okay, well,

(28:19):
is that really affiliated?

Speaker 2 (28:21):
You know, what's the statute of limitations on things like this?

Speaker 1 (28:25):
Exactly right, And so it's kind of like and it's
kind of the same here, just in terms of geography.
It's like the farther out you go, it's like, eh,
was that really affiliated with the Bennington Triangle. But there
are a core group of disappearances, just as in the
case of kingtoton Common's tomb, there was a core group
of deaths right after it that is like freaky as hell,

(28:47):
and it's like whoa like, especially the way they died
and very weird. And same thing with this, it's like
there is a group of disappearances where it's like almost
exactly on top of each other, same date, same area,
Like it is weird. So, like you said, even without
patting from Chrisman and Jones, the Bennington Triangle's batting average

(29:08):
for swallowing people whole is well, it's swinging pretty high.
Between nineteen forty five and nineteen fifty five, human beings
simply stepped off the map. That's one person each year
on average. But maybe it wasn't just five. According to
the Burlington Free Press reporter Sally Jacobs riding on October

(29:31):
twenty fifth, nineteen eighty one, the Paula Weldon case wasn't
only a mystery of the late forties. She claimed that
two years after Weldon vanished, quote, a trio of hunters
from Massachusetts vanished near the ghost town of Glastonbury. Just
like the others, they were never seen again. And then
there's a line buried in a Bennington Banner article mentioning

(29:55):
a thirteen year old Bennington boy named Melvin Hills who
disappeared in the same cursed patch of forest around October eleventh,
nineteen forty two. If both of those stories hold any water,
the Triangle's roster jumps up from about five to about nine.
And that's obviously not a trend. You want your hometown

(30:16):
to be known for. It ain't like being known as
having the best pecan pie, you know what I mean.
You could understand why, especially you know, in certain you
could understand why you wouldn't want certain things. There's ones
that are inescapable that you kind of have to acknowledge.
But then you could understand why tourism boards and all

(30:36):
that stuff wouldn't want that notch on their metaphorical bedpost.

Speaker 2 (30:41):
Essentially, especially back then. I feel like today more so
a town would see that as an opportunity to you
know that that could be an incentive nowadays. Back then
in the forties, I think they would want to avoid
that reputation.

Speaker 1 (30:58):
Absolutely. I think you're right. I think, especially the advent
of the Internet and stuff. It doesn't even mean that
before the Internet there weren't people out there interested in
that sort of thing. I think it's just with the
advent of the Internet, communities kind of find each other
and you're like, oh, there is a huge population that
would actually probably think that was cool, you know what
I mean. So you can kind of see now why

(31:18):
people lean into it, why certain haunted hotels. Some really
lean into the gimmick, and some kind of like they
kind of roll their eyes at it as if, like,
you know, they're above it sort of thing. So you know,
it's kind of a similar thing. Like you can understand,
especially back then, why you wouldn't want to be known
as the place where children and the elderly go missing.

Speaker 2 (31:38):
That's not going to bring in a lot of new residents.

Speaker 1 (31:41):
Absolutely right, Well, where did these folks go? That's the
riddle at the rotten core of the Bennington Triangle was
the so called Bennington Monster talked about by the colonials.
Was that what was dragging victims off into the cold,
dark swamps of Glasston. If so, then what is the

(32:02):
nature of this monster? Is it flesh and blood? Is
it supernatural? Did the missing stumble into some kind of
invisible trap door in the fabric of reality, a sort
of window area that drops you off into parts unknown?
Or maybe they stepped on that cursed stone told of
by the Native American legends, the one that yawns wide

(32:25):
and swallows you whole one. Bennington Banner reporter even tossed
out the idea of a Yankee shangri law hidden up
there in the peaks of the Green Mountains, a sort
of misty paradise where people simply wandered in and forgot
to wander out. For some, that's the most comforting theory,

(32:46):
because the alternatives involve endings that are a lot less
mysterious adventure than they are tragedy. Alien abduction, of course,
is a common theory, the kind where, if you believe
the reports of the hitpnotized, you wake up strapped to
a table under cold white lights, subjected to exams that

(33:07):
make your annual physical look like a day at the spa.
Then you're sent home with missing time, strange scars, and
maybe a small piece of alien tech rattling around in
your skull. Well, some folks, if you believe the rumors,
they never make it back at all. Or maybe it
was something far more terrestrial, far more ugly, a predator

(33:30):
with a taste for human game. But if this predator
is a flesh and blood creature, why no tracks. The
pattern is pretty tight. It's a tight five year time frame.
We're talking about same patch of mountain with victims ranging
anywhere from ages eight to seventy five, men and women both.

(33:51):
So it's not like if this was a serial killer.
Typically they have an mo right, they have a type.
This kind of leans itself against that, and it's always
in the last quarter of the year, and then as
suddenly as it begins, it stops. Now, serial killers in
some ways would fit that mold, like the ones who

(34:12):
sort of kill by seasons, or just like they kill
at certain times of the year and then vanish when
the weather changes and leave a trail of nothing but
questions and misery behind. Maybe this potential wacko comes up
north for the Fall Foliage each year. Well, he was
hunting something that didn't make it back into the game.

(34:33):
Reports back then. Locals even gave him names, the kind
of nicknames you only get when the town's fear needs
a face. The Bennington Ripper, the mad Murder of the
Long Trail. These were all names that people who believed
in that theory had given to this metaphorical or possibly real,

(34:54):
possibly not killer. But for all the speculation, there was
never a body that proved murder was even a factor
at all. And that's when the simple question started sounding
more like accusations. If snow was on the ground during
these vanishings, why didn't it help the trackers? If some
poor soul wandered off and froze, why didn't the spring

(35:16):
thaw turn them up instead? The mountain would keep the
people it took.

Speaker 2 (35:22):
And also, you would think that people would be even
less likely to venture out in that kind of weather,
especially you know that woman, like, even though she knew
the woods so well, you wouldn't think these people would
be venturing out their in dangerous conditions.

Speaker 1 (35:39):
Right right. You would think that, especially if they are
as well acquainted with the area, they would know even
better than someone who didn't win to go and when
not to go.

Speaker 2 (35:49):
And as for the lack of footprints, that might lend
itself to alien abduction or something flying, if it was
a creature, something that maybe just snap right.

Speaker 1 (36:01):
Think about the boy, the hounds had gotten his scent
for a little bit, They tracked him to the corner
of those two streets, and it ended dead cold. Now,
I don't know much about that sort of crime forensics
and stuff, but my first assumption was, well, did that
mean like someone pulled up in a car and nabbed him?
But I don't know how that worked. If the hounds

(36:24):
can then still smell a little bit like in the air,
like in the direction the car, I don't know how
that works.

Speaker 2 (36:30):
So and still that was a pretty significant distance away
from where they first started the.

Speaker 1 (36:36):
Trail too, so absolutely, and well, what really makes that
too so interesting is that that was also where they
think Paula was last seen, So that that's what really
makes it interesting. It's like, it's one thing if yes,
he did get grabbed off the street, but then does
that mean two people were taken right off the street
in that same corner. Just had to take a quick

(37:01):
pause there, Creep Street, just to give your core palpitating
hard rest. If you're enjoying this episode, go ahead and
follow us on Facebook, Instagram at creep Street Podcast, Twitter
at creep Street Pod, TikTok at creep Street Podcast. That's right,
and if once a week is not enough for you,
just head on over to patreon dot com for all

(37:23):
sorts of goodies. We got three different tiers there, something
for every tier, so get your fixings. We even got
a free tier where you can listen to the weekly
sketches before they go live on the episode. Now without
further ado, back to today's story. Then came the one

(37:46):
twist that still makes even the seasoned locals shiver. On
May twelfth, nineteen fifty one, so breaking from our time
frame here, seven months after she had gone missing, free
to Langer finally turned up not miles away in some
uncharted gulch or deep in a cave. But get this,

(38:09):
lying out in the open in the tall grass by
the flood dam of Somerset Reservoir, the exact same spot
that had been combed over and over and over again
by the most thorough search of the entire Bennington Triangle. Soaka,
it was as if the mountain decided to just give

(38:31):
her back, but only after it was done with her.
So think about that. It's like you would think that
a body turning up would at least give you some answers,
but instead it only makes it weirder because it was
out in the open. It's not like they found her body,
like as if someone had tried to hide it or
she fell down into some like crevice where people would

(38:54):
have missed her. Like she's lying out in the open,
like where they had searched many times. It would be like,
you know, sometimes we look for our keys and then
they turn up kind of like almost right in front
of you. You're like, oh, well, imagine like literally searching
for days for something and then it pops up, like
on your tape, like right in front of you, you

(39:15):
know what I mean, Like you find it like sitting
nice and pretty like on the table or something that's weird.

Speaker 2 (39:22):
It's almost like her body was returned because obviously how
could they have missed it? But why was it.

Speaker 1 (39:29):
Returned exactly right? What purpose did it serve for the
time it was held? And why even give it? Why
not just like yeah? The Bennington banner called the remains gruesome,
and no cause of death could be determined. As for
the others, they of course remain phantoms in the record,

(39:49):
with no bodies, no clothing or DNA of any kind,
just names on a list and questions without answers. Well,
it's natural, sure, all that when things like this happen,
people start to freak out. While Massachusetts may lack the
brooding peaks of Vermont, it makes up for it with

(40:09):
its own roster of quote window areas. These curious patches
of Earth where the rules seem to bend and people
go missing. These are the kind of places where UFO
sidings are just part of the weather report, and monsters
seem to wander in all the time for a cameo,
and people go missing. Disease and crime and full on

(40:32):
madness all make regular appearances on the Bill. Researcher Lauren
Coleman once summed it up best, likening these spots to
quote Gayea's paranormal zones her pimples, if you will, blemishes
that the universe can't help but pick at again and again.

(40:53):
And one such blemish might be the land surrounding the
glossy expanse of the Quabin Reservoir, Amherst, nearly eighty thousand
wild whispering acres cradled the water, a stretch of mid
Massachusets wilderness with more than enough room to hide whatever
strange stories yet to slip out. But of all the

(41:15):
strange things said to haunt the Quinn, the most believable
might be its supposed population of North American mountain lion,
also known as the panther or the puma, the mountain screamer,
the catamount, or whatever else you want to scream before
the thing mauls you to death. Officially, Massachusetts hasn't had

(41:35):
one of these since eighteen fifty eight, when the last
one was killed in Amherst, But since then more than
three hundred sightings have been logged, and half of them
right there in the Quaban's backyard. And yet big cats
aren't even the oddest creatures said to lurk the area.
That honor probably goes to the crocodiles of Dismal Swamp,

(41:58):
near where eighteen twenty two locals reported seeing several six
to eight foot long reptiles gliding through the water, and
in more recent years smaller three foot crocs have actually
been caught. Not exactly the kind of critter you'd expect
to find sunbathing in New England, But some tales from

(42:20):
the Quaban aren't exactly easy to digest literally or figuratively.
Take the night of August thirteenth, nineteen nineteen, between eight
to nine pm, the sky above the reservoir suddenly lit
up with a blinding white flash, followed by an explosion. Then,

(42:42):
like something out of a bizarre dream, a glowing object
drifted down and landed just twenty feet from the front
door of a man named Erastus Dewey Enter another gentleman
named Rufus Graves, an Amherst professor, who examined the fallen
oddity and found it to be bowl shaped about eight
inches across and an inch thick, with a fuzzy cloth

(43:05):
like surface, the color of yellowish pink flesh. Inside was
a foul smelling pulp that, when exposed to air, liquefied
and turned blood red. Several more of these bizarre blobs
would later be scattered and found across the area, because
apparently one just wasn't enough to make the locals uneasy.

(43:29):
Other UFOs in the area aren't the crash landing blob
dripping kind. Long before flying saucers became a household phrase
in the nineteen forties, strange lights and objects were already
a part of the local landscape, and sometimes they didn't
even bother with the sky. Case in point, the winner
of nineteen oh six Petersham resident Isaac Spidey, had headed

(43:53):
to bed when he noticed an eerie glow coming from
his barn on Nichewog Road. Instead of the warm flicker
of lantern light or the panic inducing orange of a
fire this was something else entirely. The glow would dim
and then surge back to full brightness, repeating the cycle

(44:14):
over and over, as Spiney stood frozen in the doorway two,
unsettled to step inside and too fascinated to look away.
Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't a fire, but that
only left far more unsettling questions, like what in God's
name was Spiney forgot all about going to bed. Instead,

(44:37):
he tore off to find his neighbor, Seymour Williams, blurting
out enough of the story to get the man sprinting
back with him, and sure enough, the light was still there,
breathing in and out like some spectral lung, until it
decided to make things even stranger, when before their eyes
the glow detached from whatever it had been resting on,

(45:00):
gathered itself into a sphere, and floated right out of
the barn. It didn't zip away, in fact, it kind
of meandered like it had all night, to haunt the countryside,
drifting in the direction of one WB Spooner's farm. Spiney
and Williams split up, trying to cut it off, but

(45:20):
as soon as they moved in close, the light blinked out,
suddenly gone, like somebody snuffs out a flame on a
candle with two fingers. When words spread, neighbors bolted their
doors and reached for whatever passed his home defense in
nineteen oh six. No one could agree though if it

(45:41):
was a phantom or a firebug, or a haunt or
horse reddish, but whatever it was, it didn't come back.
And I think why they include this and the source
is just to say I think it's kind of lending
itself to the UFO hypothesis. But depending on how big
this triangle is, they could be involved. But this is

(46:03):
something that kind of seems like on the outskirts, almost
like uninvolved, I would think, especially since it was years
before when.

Speaker 2 (46:10):
This happened, right like almost fifty years or like forty
pretty significant long stretch.

Speaker 1 (46:17):
Of time exactly. It's kind of like what we were
saying earlier about how far away does something have to
be until it's its own thing or something unrelated? How
weird does something have to be for it to be unrelated? Now,
Like obviously a bowl made of pink, yellow flesh is
kind of seems unrelated to what we're talking about here,

(46:39):
but it's still within the relatively the same area, depending
on Like we said, we don't know how big this
theoretical triangle is, so it could be related, and if
it is, it's sort of a predecessor to what would
happen later on. Now, a lot of weird stuff happens
in the mountains up there. We did I think it

(46:59):
was in New Hampshire in the White Mountains. This is
in the Green Mountains, but in the White Mountains. We
told the story about a man who was said to
almost be a vampire. He was in life, was a
man who had sought to essentially find the keys to immortality,
and may or may not have done it, but may
have done it at the cost of having to consume
lives in the process. People would go missing in this

(47:23):
area for like ever, like for like a century, people
would go missing right in this same area. So it
just goes to show you, especially in these New England
states that are so tiny and packed into each other,
they kind of share a similar which is obviously my
source is a book about things strange things in New England.

(47:43):
But it just shows you how there's a lot of
similar DNA between a lot of these things, and they
may or may not be related, but I wanted to
close out the proceedings with a story I found on
Reddit about someone one's personal experience with the Bennington Triangle.

(48:05):
And this story is called My grandmother taught me everything
I know about how to survive in Appalachia. This is
her experience in the Bennington Triangle, also known as the
Zone of Death. Greetings everyone, My name is Geraldine, and
I believe my granddaughter Ellie recently shared with you her

(48:27):
ordeal in the woods, the one she endured with her father.
Bless her heart. She survived only because she listened, because
she remembered. My son, on the other hand, always dismissed
our family's stories, called them woo woo crap. That arrogance
nearly cost them both their lives. Ellie told me you

(48:50):
were curious about the old tales, the ones we don't
tell lightly, so I'll share one, the story of how
I almost lost my life and my sanity within the
Bennington Triangle. It was the summer I turned sixteen. My
friends and I had planned a celebratory camping trip, just

(49:11):
the three of us, myself, Pauline, and Dunetta. They were
familiar with trails, yes, but not with the truths that
walked beside them, not with the rules. I was certain
my knowledge would protect us, but I was wrong. That morning,
as we packed up, I made sure I had everything.

(49:33):
A compass, a map, a week's worth of food, a tent, water, clothes,
and my sleeping bag. But most important were the things
that Pauline rolled her eyes at. A pouch of salt
to encircle our camp ash, to keep away the barefooted
ones who stalked the trees after sunset, A red string

(49:57):
tied tight around my waist to confuse use the triangle's pull,
and iron filings to weigh down the soul in places
where the veil wears thin. Duanetta agreed to carry a
pouch like mine, and I wrapped a red string around
her waist too, But Pauline just scoffed at me when
I offered her the same. The hike began peacefully, almost

(50:21):
too peacefully. Birds chirped, wind played in the leaves, and
sunlight danced along the path like it was leading us somewhere.
And then everything changed. The light dimmed though no clouds
had passed the sun, A cold mist bled across the

(50:42):
trail ahead of us, and then silence. Total silence, not
a bird, nor the breeze, just nothing. And I knew
Rule one. If the birds stop singing, close your eyes

(51:03):
and count backward from thirteen. Do not open them until
you hear a chickadee. We had stepped into a thin place,
a fault line in the skin of the world. Close
your eyes, I hissed, stopping cold now, and don't open
them until I say. Dinetta's eyes suddenly widened in confusion

(51:27):
and fear, but she quickly obeyed. Pauline laughed seriously, another
one of your creepy old rules. I closed my eyes
and began counting thirteen, twelve, eleven. Shiver carved down my spine.
Something was there, moving heavy, slow and wrong. The air

(51:55):
around me shifted, as if the space itself to let
it pass. Ten nine eight footsteps bear wet, not behind me,
not beside me, next to Pauline seven six. She gasped

(52:20):
a strangled, sharp noise, not fear but surprised. Then a
scream tore through the trees, brief cut off, and then nothing.
Three two one The birds began singing again. I opened

(52:41):
my eyes. Danetta was crouched trembling, red strings still tight
around her waist, and she was holding onto it like
a lifeline. I turned towards where Pauline had stood. She
was gone. No tracks, no signs of a struggle, no sound,

(53:01):
no trace, only a faint impression in the mist, as
if something impossibly large had passed through and taken her
with it. Where is she, Dunetta exclaimed, frantically, looking around
the forest. I think she was taken, I said Pauline.

(53:22):
Dunetta shouted, running off the trail and endo the brush.
Don't leave the trail. I shouted after her, but it
was too late. Panic flared in my chest as I
ran after her, the mist thickening unnaturally around us. The
world became a blur of ghost gray fog and shadowy trees.
I tripped, Branches clawed at my arms, roots dragged at

(53:45):
my ankles. Everything smelled damp and old, like soil that
hadn't been turned in sentries. By the time we stopped running,
the sun was bleeding out behind the trees. The trail
was gone. Not going to find her in the dark,
I said, trying to sound calm, though dread coiled tight

(54:06):
in my stomach. We'll camp here at first light. We'll
try to find the trail again and get help. Dinetta nodded,
hollow eyed. She didn't argue. We pitched the tent in silence.
I laid a thick ring of salts around our sight,
whispering the old words my grandmother taught me, not prayers,

(54:28):
but warnings, protection barriers. Denetta wandered off to relieve herself,
and I waited, glancing at the darkening tree line, each
shape seeming to breathe and shift and watch. And then
came the whistle, sharp, piercing, and not far off. Hey, Geraldine,

(54:55):
where are you? I can't see? Donetta's voice rang out, panicked,
Follow my boys, I called, stepping out just outside the
salt ring. I cupped my hands around my mouth and
let out a sharp whistle back, and then I froze.
From the trees to my left came a low, guttural growl,

(55:18):
a sound that vibrated in my bones, like distant thunder.
The forest fell completely still, as if the trees themselves
were holding their breath. Junnetta stumbled into me from the dark, breathless,
her face pale. Thank god, she gasped quiet, I whispered,
dragging her back. We have to get to camp now.

(55:41):
But it was already too late. The growl grew louder, heavier,
and closer, and then I saw them, two glowing red eyes,
floating above the forest floor, impossibly high off the ground.
They blinked slowly, then moved towards us. Snap snap, twigs

(56:05):
shattering beneath something heavy, something deliberate. And that's when I
remembered rule two. Never whistle after dark. It summons it
if you hear a twig snap, but see no animal,
drop meat or bone behind you, and don't look back.

(56:26):
We ran. Branches, whipped our faces, the mists stung our skin,
but we didn't stop until we reached the faint outline
of the salt ring. My legs shook, lungs burning behind us,
that low snarl rumbled again. Help me get the fire going,
I barked, my fingers clumsy and cold as I scrambled

(56:48):
for kindling. Dinetta helped, her hands shaking as badly as mine.
The fire caught slowly, then flared to life. But the
eyes were still there, now, just beyond the salt, close
enough to smell the singe of its breath. And then
it stepped forward. Not a dog, not really, it looked

(57:10):
like one, but it was too tall, too wrong, black
fur matted and glistening, jaws filled with long, uneven teeth.
It moved with the patience of something that knew we
had nowhere left to run. The hound of Glastonbury, the
guardian of the Bennington Triangle, the enforcer of the rules,

(57:33):
and we had broken one. I reached into my pack
with trembling hands, searching for an offering. All I had
was jerky. I flung a piece beyond the salt. It
snatched it up with impossible speed, and yet didn't retreat. Instead,
it kept circling, watching and testing. Its growls deepened, like

(57:56):
a voice trying to form words in a throat not
meant to speak. We stayed awake the entire night, our
backs pressed to each other, salt circle unbroken, fire never
allowed to die, but the eyes didn't leave, not until dawn.
We didn't dare pack up camp until the sun was

(58:17):
high enough to burn through the fog. Even then, our
hands trembled as we smothered the fire. Every rustle in
the brush made us jump. Every snapped twig set our
nerves on edge. We didn't speak. We just moved quickly
and carefully, constantly glancing behind us. It took hours. My

(58:40):
compass spun more than once, the needle twitching like it
was unsure where we were. But finally, finally, the trail
reappeared like it had been hiding and watching. We didn't celebrate.
We just walked faster. We didn't call for help because
we knew better. Voices don't always come from the things

(59:02):
you expect out here. It was mid afternoon when we
heard it, a whisper, soft and deliberate, curling through the
trees like smoke. Dannetta Geraldine. We froze. It sounded exactly
like her, Pauline. Dannetta called her voice, shaking, Pauline, is

(59:26):
that you, Donetta? The voice came again, closer now, from
behind us. From the corner of my eye, I saw
it tall, impossibly tall, with limbs that bent branches and
antlers that looked like rotting wood. Its face was a void,

(59:48):
blacker than shadow, hungrier than the silence. It wasn't Pauline.
It was the watcher. Rule three, don't look up when
the wind whispers your name from behind a tree or
in the mist. He's watching. I grabbed Anetta's arm and
screamed run. We bolted down the trail, breath, ragged feet

(01:00:13):
slamming against the dirt behind us, Twigs cracked in rhythm
with our steps, Bushes rustled with unnatural violence, and always
the watcher lingered just out of view, glimpsed only in
the corners of my eye. Dunetta, the third whisper. I
turned just for a second, and Darnetta was gone. No scream,

(01:00:35):
no struggle, she was gone. There was only the sound
of the wind and the trail before me. I didn't stop,
I couldn't. I knew what came next, but luckily I
knew what to do. I burned my boots and left
them by a fork in the trail, a decoy. I
ran until my legs gave out. I crawled, hid beneath root.

(01:01:00):
I covered myself in mud to mask my scent, and
it watched me the whole time. The forest rangers found
me three days later, barefoot, bruised, eyes wild. They said
I must have gotten lost, delirious from dehydration, a survivor
of exposure. They launched a search for Danetta and Pauline,

(01:01:23):
brought in dogs volunteers. They never found them. Even if
they did, it wouldn't be them anymore, because the forest
doesn't just take people here, it replaces them. I still
live near these woods. Foolish maybe, but this land has
been in my family for generations. I know it's rules.

(01:01:45):
I follow them to this day. Sometimes though at night,
I hear them, Geraldine calling me from just beyond the
tree line. Pauline, Dannetta. Their voices are perfect, but I
never answer because I know it's not them, not anymore,

(01:02:08):
and if I answer, it might remember that I'm still here. Well, folks,
I wanted to wait until the end to tell you,
but that story was actually posted in No Sleep. Now,
as far as I understand, I think No Sleep is

(01:02:29):
intended to be fictional, right, kind of like Creepy Pasta.

Speaker 2 (01:02:33):
I think so.

Speaker 1 (01:02:34):
I mean, I know the allures that they kind of
walks a line, but I think the intention is it's
supposed to be fictional. Whereas, say, like in a Reddit forum,
like Paranormal Encounters, those stories are allegedly supposed to be real.
I'm pretty sure that No Sleep is supposed to be fiction.
I mean, notice the name Pauline. I mean, it sounds

(01:02:55):
like it was not that. You know, there's obviously more
than one person named Pauline, but it seems like an
homage to the actual victim, although I mean, who knows.
But there was this interesting post follow up to this.
It was by someone I think they were commenting on
the post, by a poster named Goblin Marketeer. They had

(01:03:15):
something interesting to say. This is what they said. I
actually worked on a documentary for this. It was abandoned though,
because it didn't have the angle they were looking for.
I did go to various sites and shoot b roll
and interview some people, and then I had a spooky
weird thing happen on the way back to the hotel.

(01:03:35):
So most of these are easy to explain. The missing hunters.
When I went to shoot there, I was specifically warned
several times that they are mine shafts and crevasses that
you could fall into. As for Paula Weldon, when I
asked about it, locals were like dead and dumped in
a hole somewhere. One of the older locals pretty much

(01:03:57):
said it was her boyfriend. In the New England and
way of saying things without saying them, the woods are
super dense in that area. Like walk ten feet off
the path and you could lose the trail, and the
hiking trail is like a single car lane wide. Also,
the woods are eerie as hell. In places, it looks

(01:04:18):
like a place where you could just vanish and never
be heard from again. At one point I was shooting
the trail and there was a mist and fog, and
all of a sudden, church bells started playing a song.
I think it was Memories from Cats, the story of
the missing soldier and the Researcher. I'm pretty sure never
actually happened. Couldn't find any record of it at the time.

(01:04:42):
Just one year later, and there was some question if
the name even existed or not. She was pretty adamant
it wasn't a thing, though, such that she didn't give
me a location to shoot for that one. All in all,
they gave up on the idea found it was just
a number of fairly mundane vanishings clustered very roughly together.

(01:05:03):
I got paid, though, so there's that also fun side note.
The old Bennington College building is super creepy, and the
grounds of random statues everywhere, things like monks holding their
own heads and things. Oh, and there's a ghost town
in the triangle Shaftsbury. The town was abandoned due to
bad weather. I think it was not much left but

(01:05:26):
basement holes though, so kind of interesting because that quote.
Who knows if the comment was real or unreal. Obviously
they didn't make any claims in this comment that were
too extreme or spooky or whatever, but it just kind
of adds to the local folklore. I think a little
bit of how people view this mountain, and you know
what people might think. You know, I'm sure decades and

(01:05:49):
decades later, I'm sure there's people that believe, and I'm
sure there's people. You know, you can understand why someone,
you know, especially if you're a grieving family, you might
not want your loved one's disappearance associated with what you
think is a silly legend. You would rather you see
that as disrespectful, which totally understand. But this is one

(01:06:11):
of those cases where it's tough to say where is
it the triangle? It's like a chicken or the egg thing.
What comes first? Was there a triangle, like we said
in the very beginning, that even the native populations before
the colonials got there, already saw this area as something
to be kind of respected and kept a distance from.

(01:06:33):
Or is it something that started tragically but naturally, and
then a legend was built around it? Who knows. Maybe
it's one and the same, Maybe that maybe things can
start that way, like we say, and they become real
things because of the fear and the tragedy that's that's
poured into them. But pretty strange stuff, I would say.

Speaker 2 (01:06:55):
Oh, yeah, very strange. And yeah, I mean, there's no
way we can definitively say that these disappearances are linked.
Then they're tied to the same cause, but they on
their own, each individual one has such strange circumstances, and
then the commonalities in those circumstances definitely makes it worth considering.

(01:07:18):
And it's an interesting set of circumstances with these disappearances.
I mean, the dogs losing the trail, the eight year
old boy wandering off, the woman who knew the woods
so well and yet disappeared, and just the fact that
these people were never found, most of them, even after

(01:07:39):
some really serious search attempts.

Speaker 1 (01:07:43):
For me, maybe the weirdest one is James Tetford, the
older man, the elderly man who vanished right out of
the bus as it was on its way there. So
it makes you wonder if that was affiliated with whatever.
Let's say there's some sort of a inexplicable supernatural essence
to this area of land. That would mean that you

(01:08:04):
don't even have to necessarily go missing or to go
off into the woods on a hike. This guy was
sitting on a commercial bus next to other people, and
from the way it sounds like it wasn't like he
was ripped out of the bus. It was people didn't
they like turned around and he was gone, or they
like looked back in the mirror and that guy that

(01:08:25):
had been there wasn't there anymore. That's a weird one
because it's like the other ones weren't even out in
the wild, and then Frieda's body turns up in the
wide open. What would be the purpose of that if
this is truly like a supernatural area or not even
Superman is something we don't understand, what's the purpose of

(01:08:46):
giving or or because why not give them all back
if that's the case, or why was it Frieda who
was suddenly just popped up?

Speaker 2 (01:08:55):
Be sort of just vanishing nature of these disappearances, just
without a trace, makes me kind of think that it
could be something alien, that it could be something technological too.
I mean, you've got to imagine aliens have technology that
bar surpasses our own or anything we maybe can even

(01:09:16):
conceive of. Who's to say they can't they don't have
some sort of teleportation type technology. And if they are,
let's say, abducting people in a certain area, which you
know we've talked about, there could be reasons for that,
such as the government says that you can take people
from certain areas or what have you, or maybe they

(01:09:36):
just that's just where they choose to operate. The guy
on the bus who knows, maybe they have some sort
of technology where they can just teleport people to their ship, right.

Speaker 1 (01:09:46):
Not unlike beaming like in Star Trek, beaming somewhat up
and out of a place like it's very fascinating. But
I'll tell you what, Gauge, I got a list of
names I wouldn't mind hiking up Glastonbury Mountain with, Oh yeah,
who's that? The names of our top tier Patriots subscriber,
of course, The dream James Watkins, the Finish Face Via Lungphus,

(01:10:08):
the Madman Marcus Hall, the Tenacious Teresa Hackworth, the Heartbreak Kid,
Chris Hackworth, Theoso Swave, Sean Richardson, the notorious Nicholas Barker,
the terrifying Taylor lash Met the Count of Cool, Cameron Corlis,
the Archduke of Attitude, Adam Archer, the sinister Sam Kiker,
the Nightmare of New Zealand, Noah Leine Viavilli, the loathsome
Johnny Love, the carnivorous Kevin Bogie, the Killer Stud Carl Stab,
the fire Starter Heather Carter, the conquer Christopher Damian Demeris,

(01:10:30):
the awfully awesome Annie, the murderous Maggie Leech, the ser
of Sexy Sam Hackworth, the evil Elizabeth Riley, Lauren hell Fire,
Hernandez Lopez, the maniacal Laura Maynard, the vicious Karen van
Vier and the arch Nemesis Aaron Bird, the sadistic Sergio Castillo,
the Rapscallion, Ryan Crumb, the Beast Benjamin Whang, the devilish
Chris Duceet, the Psycho Sam, the Electric Emily Jong, the
ghoulish Girt Hankum, the renegade Corey Ramos, the crazed Carlos,

(01:10:53):
the antagonist, Andrew Park, the monstrous MICHAELA. Sure, the witchy
wonder J. P. Weimer, the Freiki Ben Forsyth, the barbaric
Andrew Berry, the mysterious Marcella, the hillacious Kale Hoffman and Pug.

Speaker 3 (01:11:04):
Blorb the Poulter guys.

Speaker 1 (01:11:06):
Oh yes, yes, yes, folks. If you don't want to
go missing, head on over to patreon dot com slash
Creep Street Podcast. That sounded real threatening, I apologize, But
if you're looking for a good time, head on over
to patreon dot com backslash creep Street Podcast. That's where
you want to be for all sorts of goodies. We

(01:11:27):
upload things there, such as the sketches before they go live.
Bonus episodes obviously, But citizens, we thank you so much
for joining us, and we love you and we thank
you for your support, Citizens of the Melky Way. My
name is Dylan Hackworth.

Speaker 2 (01:11:41):
And I'm Gage Hurley.

Speaker 1 (01:11:43):
Good night and goodbye.

Speaker 2 (01:12:00):
School. Mass used, bast bastised