White Rock Lake

Sit back and buckle in for an interesting variation on the vanishing hitchhiker, from the Lone Star State!

Drivers on the roads around White Rock Lake near Dallas, Texas, may encounter a young woman, soaked to the bone and wearing what appears to be a white evening gown from the 1920s. If the driver decides ot be a good samaritan and stops to offer help, the young woman will ask to be driven to an address on Gaston Avenue. In some versions of the story, the young woman explain that there has been an accident and her car has fallen into the lake, while in others she is barely verbal due to a stupifying state of shock. Upon arriving at the destination, the driver will discover that the young woman has vanished, but that there is water covering the seat where she had been sitting. 

In some versions of the story, the woman will specify that the house to which she has asked ot be driven belongs to her father. On arrival, the driver will observe that the young woman has fallen asleep, will go to the house and knock on the door. The door is then opened by an elderly man who is angered when this stranger claims to be bringing the elderly fellow's daughter home - you see, she had dided years earlier when her car plunged into the lake, and he doesn't appreciate these sorts of jokes. It is at this point that the driver returns to the car to find that woman is gone and the seat is wet.

The identity of the woman is not known, nor is why she is trying to reach the house on Gastone Avenue. 

There is one other variation on the story, one which is much, much creepier and bears no resemblance to the hitchiking ghost story outside of the presence of a young woman in an evening gown. In this version, people boating on the lake or out at the docks at night report seeing a body floating face down, carried (seemingly by the currents, though we know better) towards the observers. It appears to be the body of a drowned young woman in a fancy evening gown.  As the body come close to the observers, it turns over, and those present can see that the skin is bright white, as if drained of bloood. As it reaches the observers, the eyes spring open and the body emits a ghastly, disturbing shriek. Allegedly, those present always run away at this point, because, let's face it, so would you and I. 

Commentary:  There really are two separate ghost stories here, whether or not they have the same origin is unclear.  The first is a standard vanishing hitchiker story, but with the ghost leaving behind water rather than a jacket or sweater (which, when you get down to it, is just really damn rude on the ghost's part).  The second is a much stranger and more sinister story that has some truly creepy and disturbing elements.  I suspect that this is a case where elements from one story (woman drowning when a car plunges into a lake) were adopted into a new story because, let's face it, the vanishing hitchhiker story is ubiquoutous to the point of becoming a bit boring.  Another possibility is that the creeepier story, of the floating corpse, is the original tale, and that it was adopted into the ubiquoutous vanishing hitchiker story by people getting their stories a bit garbled. Regardless, while I appreciate the hitchiker story as a form of folklore, I am much more likely to tell the latter story should I be sitting with friends around a campfire. 

The ghost story has also become an element of one of Dallas's odder pop-culture moments. In October of 1967, local radio personality Chuck Boyles decided to invite his listeners to join him at White Rock Lake in order to search for the phantom and try to solve the mystery behind her (lest you are inclined to think of this as a serious investigation, keep in mind that he was a radio DJ given to the self-promotion necessary to that profession and that this was likely intended as a goofy lark).  While he likely expected to result in a few dozen people coming out (he set the meeting for the very early hours of the morning, likely to discourage many people from joining him), something in the neighborhood of 1000 people (mostly under the age of 25) arrrived.  This, in turn, resulted in the police coming out, hoping to prevent a riot. While there was a bit of mischief, it was, ultimately, anti-climatic and nothing happened.  However, the city government was sufficiently displeased to put Boyles in a position where he felt the need to make an on-air apology a few days later.

And that, my friends, is how you ensure the continuation of a piece of folklore. My gratitude goes ot Chuck Boyles, even though those living near the lake were likely less than please with him.  

Sources: Wikipedia, iO9, Phantom Seekers, Dark Haunts

Chuuk Lagoon, Micronesia

Chuuk Lagoon, also known as Truc Lagoon (let's hear it for languages with semi-compatible phonemes!) is a natural harbor in the Caroline Islands.  The Japanese navy used it as a home base during the second World War.  This came to a sudden end on February 17, 1944, when a two-day battle began, resulting in the destruction of the base. More than 50 ships and hundreds of aircraft were destroyed, and thousands of Japanese soldiers lost their lives (400 of which are said to have been trapped in the hold of a ship which sank, drowning the men.

Since the war, the lagoon has become a popular destination for scuba divers who want to explore sunken wrecks (some sources place credit for this popularity with a 1969 documentary by Jacques Cousteau).

Although a significant number of bodies were eventually recovered and returned to Japan for burial, many remain in the depths of the lagoon. Many of those who have dived at the lagoon report supernatural goings-ons.

Several of the ships that sank were cargo ships, including at least one loaded with trucks, and divers have reported hearing the sound of automobile engines starting and idling under the water. Similarly, many divers have reported hearing machine-like grinding noises coming from the engine rooms of some of the sunken ships.

Divers have also reported hearing human voices emanating from the water, and rumor holds that the locals consider the islands to be haunted, with a television crew (from the inaccurately-named "Destination Truth") claiming to have heard stories about floating lights near the caves on the island, disembodied human voices heard throughout the island (though especially in the lagoon area), and one of the crew claiming to have been touched on the shoulder when nobody else was present.

By the way - you should check out the diver's photos available here.

Commentary:  Considering that battlegrounds across the world attract ghost stories, it is only natural that the same be true of a naval battleground (battlewater?), especially considering the volume of dead and the difficulties of recovering bodies from the water as compared to dry-land battlegrounds.  While the Japanese government has made efforts to recover and bury bodies from the lagoon, it is still common for divers to find human remains while exploring, which says more about the nature of massive shipwreck sites than about the efforts of the Japanese government.

I wonder about a few things here, though.  The first is whether or not the locals truly consider this place to be haunted, or if that is a European/U.S. story that we place on the location because in our ghost story traditions it seems like it should be haunted (haunted burial grounds, which is what this place has become, though a standard part of European and therefore U.S. folklore, are not a universal part of human views about burial places).  I don't know, and if any of the readers have had reason to visit Micronesia, perhaps you could inform me. If they do consider it haunted, I then wonder if this is a native view, or if it is something imported with wreck-diving tourism in the 1970s and later.  Again, I genuinely don't know, and would be grateful if any of my readers could fill me in.

Similarly, I know that many non-competitive sports sub-cultures have developed their own superstitions and supernatural beliefs common throughout (try talking to a surfer some time, or a mountain climber, and you will see exactly what I mean).  If so, then I would wonder whether or not those beliefs have fed this growing legend. I have already begun contacting divers that I know in order to ask them - if they get me any information, I will update this entry accordingly. (Edit to note: I have spoken with a couple of divers so far, they both think that this is likely a dead-end. While they have encountered supernatural divers, they have not encountered a supernatural view common to divers).

One final note - I have observed that, as with many other ghost stories of more recent vintage, the haunting of Chuuk lagoon is one that appears across the internet, often with the exact same information repeated over and over again, not quite word-for-word, but without much variation - so it's not the copy-and-paste style of folklore spread that I have noted for other ghost stories, but it is something close to that.  If you type Chuuk lagoon (or Truk Lagoon) into Google, you will pull up many web pages, but I only cite three below, because, frankly, no matter how many I went through, I never found anything new pertaining to the ghost stories, so I just included the first three that I found. Again, I have to wonder whether or not this suggests that the over-use of a few specific sources may be resulting in stagnation of folklore.  I also noticed that none of the sources cited primary print references for the ghost stories, instead relying on hearsay, other websites, and a relatively recent television show - this makes me wonder whether or not this legend may be more recent, originating in the 1990s or later, as the internet made sharing details of dives easier.  If this is the case, then perhaps this is a story that is emerging, rather than stagnating.

Sources: iO9, Atlas Obscura, Mysterious Universe

Manchac Swamp, Louisiana

Manchac Swamp, in Lousiana, is home to two separate supernatrual stories. The first is that the swamp is home to the rougarou (apparently a local dialect version of Loup Garou, which is the American South version of the werewolf). This beast is said to haunt the swamp, looking for victims to tear apart.

But, the actual ghost story comes courtesy of the legend of an alleged Voodoo priestess named either Julie White or Julie Brown. She lived in a small town in or near the swamp in the early 20th century, and apparently liked frightening her neighbors for fun.  Amonf her activities was her frequent statement that "one day I'm gonna' die, and I'm takin' alll of you WITH ME!" I like to think that this was followed by her rubbing her hands and cackling. She was also known to routinely predict disasters, including the destruction of neighboring towns, only to have her predictions come true in short order. The neighbors took to calling her "the oracle."

Well, in 1915, she died, and a hurricane struck New Orleans, destroying (some sources say burying) her town...taking it all with her.

Since then, people entering the swamp have reported hearing her singing her song (if it is Julie Brown, I hope that song is "Homecoming Queen's Got a Gun"), and often hearing a woman's voice scream eerily, echoing thoughout the swamp. It is said that those who have entered the swamp to test the spirit routinely leave as terrified believers in the paranormal.

Commentary: I looked this story up on multiple websites, but each of them had the same story, sometimes almost word-for-word, so I linked to only the most relevant sources below. This lack of variation (and lack of detail) is a bit irritating. But this is often a frustration in seeking out ghost stories.  I also was disappointed that details of the werewolf story were typically light, though I didn't persue that as much as I might have, since I am more interested in ghosts than monsters.

This story is the source of local tourism, with Cajun Pride tours taking people to the cabin where the alleged priestess once lived, as well as the cemetary where she is supposedly buried. While I am skeptical of the story and the motives behind it being spread, I am nonetheless glad that I heard it. It may be a by-the-numbers voodoo story, but it is still fun.


Sources: Roadtrippers.com, iO9, Abondoned! blog,

Okiku's Well

Near the city of Himeji, in Japan's Hyogo Prefecture, stands Hemeji Castle, a large and imposing structure, as the best castles are. As with other castles, this one contains a well, which served as a source of water in normal times, and prevented an embargo on water from being a deciding factor during a siege. This well, stories hold, is the source of a haunting that may have destroyed a proud samurai. 

The story holds that, during the 18th century, the Samurai Aoyama Tessan served the lord of Hemeji Castle, and employed a young female servant named Okiku. Tessan wanted Okiku for his lover, but she refused his advances, leaving him frustrated. Then, one day, he came up with a fiendish plan: in the castle were ten Defltware plates, valuable plates imported to Japan from Europe, and Aoyama hid, destroyed, or otherwise did away with one of them (in some versions of the story, the plates were the property of the lord of the castle, in others they belong to Aoyama or his wife). He then accused Okiku of having stolen the tenth plate. Such a crime could carry the death sentence.

Okiku, seeing that she was in danger, frantically searched for the missing plate, and upon deciding that it was not to be found, began counting and re-counting the plates that she had, hoping each time that the total would come to ten, but, of course, it never did.

Aoyama, seeing that his plan had created the very situation that he had hoped for, made his move. He told Okiku that he would overlook her alleged transgression and she could live on if she would agree to become his lover.  She refused, and, in a fit of rage, Aoyama threw her down the well, where she died.

Later, her voice began to be heard from the well, counting to nine, and then shrieking rather than saying "ten". It is said that she would also rise from the well, frightening any who saw her.  Aoyama was terrified by the spirit, and sought relief. It is sometimes said that Aoyama never found relief, and eventually was driven insane by the vengeful spirit. In other tellings, Okiku was not trying to torment the samurai, but was stricken with sorrow over her fate, stemming from her inability to find the tenth plate. In these tellings, an exorcist, or sometimes just a neighbor, shouts out "ten" after the spirit calls out "nine" but before she can shriek, thus leaving Okiku to believe that the missing plate has been found and releasing her from her counting task to find rest.

Himeji castle still stands, and there are those who say that, to this day, at midnight, Okiku's voice can be heard counting to nine, as she emerges out of the well. After she reaches the top of the well, she will shriek rather than say "ten."

It is worth noting that, in some versions of the story, Okiku throwws herself int he well out of desperation, rather than being thrown down. And in some (including, I am told, the version told at Hemeji Castle, which is a tourist attraction) she had overheard scheming on the part of Aoyama, who planned to betray his lord, and Aoyama contrived the plan to hide the plate in order to do away with Okiku, rather than to gain leverage over her.

Commentary: This Japanese folk tale is also the source material for many other media. Kabuki plays, written stories, traditional puppet shows, and, int he 20th and 21st centuries, film and television. The story has a lot of staying power, not no wonder given how well it uses elements of ghost lore common across the world.

The story is, by an large, a straightforward one. Depending on the version, it is either about the spirit of a woman who even in death cannot break free from the evil deeds of a man (shades of La Llarona), or a vengeful and accusing spirit (a story common enough in ghost folklore, but very well executed by Chaucer in the Canterbury Tales).  Unlike many ghost stories, which are culture-specific, this one travels well and makes sense in the context of many different regional folklores. This leads me to winder if this is because there are many similarities between Japanese ghost folklore and that of other areas (especially Europe and North America), or if the story is, like the Delftware plates involved, a product of cultural mixing with elements of European folklore blending with Japanese (I don't know enough about Japanese folklore to say, but I do know that reading ethnographies of Native Americans written from the late 19th through the​ mid-20th century reveals just such a mixing as regards ghost folklore, so it is absolutely conceivable). 

Most dramatized version vary significantly from the folktale, often with different samurai playing the role of the villain, and with their particular treatment of Okiku varying a bit as well. In some versions, the Samurai doesn't simply throw Okiku down the well, but also tortures her before she is left in the well to die. In others, as noted above, Okiku throws herself into the well to escape Aoyama. In some versions of the story, Okiku and a Samurai other than Aoyama are already lovers and she wishes to marry him, but he is more interested in an offer from a woman of his station. In this version, Okiku intentionally breaks a plate to see how the Samurai will react, and he tries to cover for her claiming that it was an accident. Okiku reveals that she was testing him, and in a fit of rage, the samurai kills her and throws her down the well.

Elements of the story show up frequently in Japanese pop culture (for example, the ghost in the well in Ringu, which became the ghost in the well in the American film The Ring, was inspired by this tale). And, given the popularity of Japanese horror, spreading throughout the world, it is likely that the influence of this story will spread across the world.

Sources: IO9, Wikipedia, Artelino, Wikia

The Ghost of Marco Polo's Wife

After Polo returned from Asia to Italy, he was imprisoned, due to his involvement in a war then occurring between Venice and Genoa.  However, there are rumors that persist to this day, nearly 700 years after his death, that Marco Polo was imprisoned for reasons other than involvement in the war.  According to these rumors, he was imprisoned on the orders of the church, because he had married a non-Christian, the daughter of Kubla Kahn, Hao Dong.

According to these stories, Hao Dong came back to Italy with Marco Polo, but found the people to be unaccepting of her due to differences in appearance, religion, and language.  She became increasingly alienated from all but those closest to her, and became an effective shut-in.  Her only solace was Marco himself, and singing - she is said to have had a beautiful singing voice.

When Marco was arrested, his sister went to Hao Dong and told her that Marco had been executed.  In despair, Hao Dong lit her clothing on fire, and then jumped out of the house's window, into one of the Venetian canals, drowning herself.

It is said that people traveling along the canals at night can hear her singing, as if she was not ready to forgive the treachery of her sister-in-law or let go of her husband even centuries after his own death.

Commentary:  I was delighted to discover this ghost story.  Marco Polo was, by any standard, one of history's great adventurers.  His travels to China are, quite literally, the stuff of legend.  It is open to debate how many of the more fantastic elements of his writings were due to his claims, and how many were due to a writer to whom Marco Polo dictated his narrative.  This writer, Rusticcello, was a writer of romances (generally adventure stories) popular at the court, and it is concievable that, even if Polo had said everything accurately, it might have been embellished.  It is also possible that Polo did the embellishing, and Rusticcello took faithful dictation.  We'll likely never know.

However, even the more mundane elements of Marco Polo's books are sufficient to show that this was a man who lived a life the likes of which most of us would only ever dream of.  He travelled the world during a time when it was rare to travel far from your home town.  He spent time in the court of China during a time when most Europeans were only vaguely aware that this place called "China" even existed.  And then he returned to Europe to tell his story.

Given that there is a good deal of confusion regarding how much of Marco Polo's story is true vs. hullabaloo, it is only fitting that a ghost story would be associated with him that is likely far more myth than fact.

The historical record indicates that Marco Polo married a woman named Donata Badoer as his first and only wife, with whom he had three daughters.  There seems to be little more than rumor to suggest that he was married to Hao Dong, indicating that it probably did not occur.  Still, medieval record-keeping being what it was...

It should also be noted that the majority of references to this story are found on the websites for walking tours, suggesting that it may be of a more recent vintage than it's proponents would like to think, and that it may be more a product of tourism than paranormal activity.  Also, the claim that Hao Dong had lit herself on fire seems more consistent with a 1960s/70s view of Asia (when footage from the Vietnam War showed protestors setting themselves alight) than the expedient suicide of a heartbroken 14th century woman (also, if you wanted to burn yourself to death, why would you then jump into water?  Seems like there could be more about the story said here, but I have yet to see anything of the sort). 

Anyway, there seems to be some parallels between this story and two of my other favorites: La Llarona, and Paganini's Phantom Violin.  On the whole, it's a good story.


Sources:  Discovery.com, HowStuffWorks.com, Stuff You Missed in History Class Podcast

Isla de las Munecas

On Teshuilo Lake in the Xochimilco canals in Mexico's Federal District, there is a strange little island, now known as Isla de las Munecas (Island of the Dolls).  It was once the home of a very eccentric hermit, and it is his decidedly odd legacy that the island is covered with dolls, many of them hanging from tree branches. 

Don Julian Santana left his family and home (which, as far as I can tell was a nice home where he had a wife and child) and decided to go to live on a small island in the canal district of Xochimilco.  Stories vary as to how he became convinced that the ghost of a young girl haunted his island - some say that one of a trio of girls drowned here in the 1930s, others say that he witnessed a girl drowning but was unable to save her, and some simply say that he had become convinced without reason that a girl had drowned there - but regardless, he was convinced that he shared the island with the ghost of a little girl who he felt must be appeased.

In order to appease the spirit of the girl, and some stories say to protect himself from her, Don Julian began to collect dolls that he found floating in the river (it was near towns, and so finding garbage of various sorts in the river was not uncommon), and would sometimes take them from garbage dumps in the towns that he would occasionally visit.  He would hang these dolls from the trees, creating a strange, and rather creepy, landmark.  He would also collect other toys, placing them around the island, but dolls remained the most prominent.

After a time, people began to bring him dolls in payment for the vegetables that he grew in his garden, and he would also generate income by selling these, as well as giving tours of the island for a fee.

The ultimate fate of Don Julian is not clear.  While it is generally agreed that he died, likely by drowning, there are many conflicting dates for this event.  Most stories agree, though, that he drowned at the same spot in which he was convinced that the girl had drowned.

Commentary:  This is an odd story.  While there is definitely a ghost story element - the drowned girl's spirit being the impetus for Don Julian to collect the dolls and other toys and display them in the very weird fashion in which he did so - the thing that grabs our attention about this story is the weird-ass collection and display of the dolls themselves rather than the ghost story portion. 

And it is weird and creepy.  Isla de las Munecas has attracted many a photographer (and some great photos can be found here and here), and it is easy to see why.  The strange display of dolls hanging from trees, buildings, clothesline, etc. makes for a deeply surreal experience, and while I have never taken LSD, I wonder if I need to after having seen those photos. 

The island has become something of a tourist attraction in its own right, and now boasts a bar where one can do shots while pondering the nuttiness of Don Julian.  It's been a while since I was last in Mexico, but this does make me kind of want to take a trip there.  Perhaps, in a couple of years when life has stabilized a bit, I will be able to head on down there and take in the strangeness of this place.

Special Video Bonus:


La Isla de las Muñecas (with english subtitles) from Garupa Filmes on Vimeo.




Sources:  I09, Atlas Obscura, Boing-Boing, How Stuff Works, Michael Demeng's Blog

The Shoemake Lake/Shoemake Road Ghosts, Salida, California

Near the small town of Salida, California, on Shoemake Avenue, there is a seasonal pond, caused by rainwater settling in a small natural basin, locally known as Shoemake Lake. It is said that several years ago, a woman was driving a car with her two children in the back seat, when she lost control (presumably because of water on the road) and drove into the pond. The children drowned, and the mother may have drowned as well.

Since then, if you visit this spot when there is standing water, you may just see or hear the ghostly children, and possibly the mother.

Image of the area via Google

Commentary: Despite growing up in Salida, I only recently heard this story when my sister and I began talking about ghost stories over the phone. Yep, me, the gatherer o' ghost stories, didn't hear about one from his own home town until after he had been living elsewhere for a good fifteen years.

I have been trying to figure out why I hadn't heard of this story before, and I have two basic ideas. 1) this may be a new story, and as a result is not something that I would have come into contact with as a teenager or child; or, more likely 2) I left Modesto just as people were beginning to routinely go onto the internet (I moved out of Salida in 1996, when computer ownership nationwide was something around half of what it currently is), and as a result access to stories such as this were limited to word-of-mouth, and, frankly, I wasn't the most socially adept teenager, resulting in less opportunities for me to hear the good stories. Interestingly, this story still hasn't made it online (well, I guess it has now since I'm posting it here, but...well, you get the idea).

The story has obvious parallels with La Llarona, but so far I haven't heard a telling of it that contains the same warnings of danger as one gets with La Llarona. It also has obvious legend tripping potential.

Regardless, it's a good little story, and as far as I can tell, I'm the first person to put it on the internet. So, yay me?

Oh, and the odds of drowning in what amounts to a big but shallow mud puddle because your car skidded into it? I'm going to go out on a limb and so that it's close to zero. I wonder if the story was originally cooked up for the larger body of water known as Miller Lake located to the west.

Sources: Local Folkore

Phizzel Goblin

Make sure to read the commentary after you read the story...

The Phissel family originated in Germany, and were caught up in the religious wars that caused chaos in Europe during the 17th century. It is said that, at some point, the family became cursed because of their involvement in the religious wars. The family was forced to leave Germany, and moved to Ireland, but the women of the family died during the journey. The men established themselves in Ireland, and eventually re-married and produced a few new generations of Phissels. By the 19th century, the spelling of the family's name had changed to Phizzel, and they found themselves in the midst of the potato famine. What remained of the Phizzel family, one man, his wife, and his son and daughter, headed for the Americas. The curse struck again, and the wife and daughter died during transit.

Settling initially in New York, the Phizzel men eventually headed to Missouri, finding a home in Cape Girardeau. Eventually, the elder Phizzel died, and the younger Phizzel, Jeremy, maried and had two children of his own: a son and a daughter. The family moved into a house near the river (which some stories say that Jeremy Phizzel won in a card game during which he might have shot one of the other players dead).

One night, Jeremy's son ran from the house, terrified. He had just witnessed his father killing his sister and mother, and had barely escaped himself. Jeremy ran after his son, shouting "come and join your sister!" The son led Jeremy on a chase to the edge of the river, where, thinking quickly, the boy through a branch in, making it look as if he had jumped into the water. His father dove in afterwards, surfaceing a moment later, still shouting "come and join your sister!" The river's strong currents quickly overcame the man, though, and he began to sink. The last sound that the boy heard his father make was a gurgling noise as he drowned, that sounded something like the word "goblin."

The boy, scarred from this experience, began wandering the river banks, subsisting on whatever food he could find. Although generally reclusive, he would sometimes jump out at people walking by on the river and shout "Come oand join your sister! Goblin, Goblin" and thus became known as the Phizzel Goblin. Though he must have died long ago, his father having chased him to the river's edge over a century ago, people still claim to encounter his spirit on the riverbank.


Commentary: The Phizzel Goblin is an April Fools Day joke concocted by Gene Fitzpatrick and Bryan Minogue of the excellent Hometown Tales podcast. Absolutely nothing in the story above is true, it was written for the April 1, 2006 episode of the podcast. However, if you didn't look at the date that the episode dropped, there is nothing in the podcast that would tip you off immediately. The story is a bit sillier than normal, admittedly, but it makes use of tropes from well-known urban legends and ghost stories: a family that has been cursed (a'la Dudleytown), a child with developmental disabilities (in this case probably purely psychological in nature, due to emotional trauma) growing up without parents (similar to a story known as "The Retarded Farmer"), and a location where one is likely to see a creature that wishes to get you (similar to La Llarona). Although someone listening to the episode may think that Gene and Bryan are "winking" at the audience, and they may very well have been trying to, the show is similar enough to their usual episodes, in which they discuss actual urban legends, bits of local history, ghost stories, etc., that it's not at all clear that they aren't simply recounting an actual urban legend in their usual delightfully goofy style. Even a few things that should be tip-offs (such as the fact that, despite settling in an area and presumably producing several generations, there was always just on Phizzel nuclear family) are common enough to ghost stories and urban legends that they didn't stand out as cues that the story was a joke.

In other words, if you were going to try to design an urban legend, you wouldn't be able to do much better.

And so, if one types "Phizzel Goblin" into Google, you will find message boards, urban legend sites, and Q&A forums where people are trying to find more information about the Phizzel Goblin. Enough people figured out that it was a joke that there aren't too many people who believe otherwise, but there are still occasional people who go looking for more information on this "legend" of the Mississippi River. In other words, the Phizzel Goblin is the funny cousin of the Blair Witch.

Mr. Fitzpatrick, Mr. Minogue...well played, sirs.


Sources: Hometown Tales Podcast...and as evidence that some people bought it, look here, here, and here

Una Lake, Palmdale, California

Lake Una, located south of the City of Palmdale and immediately east of the reservoir Lake Palmdale, is a small lake or pond. Although the presence of such a body of water is remarkable within the arid desert environment, it appears otherwise uninteresting on first seeing it's placid water and rather typical local vegetation.

But, of course, it has it's stories. It is said that people approaching the lake at night have encountered a dark figure in clothing that appeared to be a fisherman's, telling them in slurred speech to leave the area. People have also reported seeing dark figures climbing into the trees and vanishing at night.



In addition to these ghostly phenomenon, some locals tell of a strange creature - never described - that sometimes emerges from the lake to devour whatever animals it can lay hand (um...teeth?) on. The lake is reputed to be bottomless, and it has been claimed that at least one diver has vanished while looking for the bottom, and that bodies of murder victims have been dumped in the lake never to be seen again. One story even holds that a school buss once ran off of the Sierra Highway (immediately adjacent to the lake) and neither it nor the driver or children in it were ever found.

Should you wish to enter the property, it is fenced off and private security has been known to patrol the area. So, this is one that is best viewed from afar.

Commentary: This is one of those entries that illustrates both why Shadowlands is simultaneously a wonderful and a terrible website for ghost story enthusiasts. This website contains the simple description: "Ghost of a fisherman has been reported to lash out, slurring viciously, ordering them to leave, also tales of black figures climbing into the trees and vanishing" complete with the weird phrasing and grammar. As I understand it, the webmaster of Shadowlands doesn't create these descriptions, but rather posts what is sent in. On the one hand, this allows us to quickly find ghost stories for most towns in the United States (as well as a few other countries), on the other hand the stories are often so brief, garbled, and confused that it can be difficult to do anything with them. So it goes.

Because Shadowlands is so useful for locating ghost stories, entries on the site are often simply copied and pasted into other websites, so if you go looking for Una Lake ghost stories online, you'll usually find a direct copy of the above-quoted sentence. Again I have to wonder if our reliance on the internet isn't a double-edged sword, allowing more access to stories, but also freezing them in (often lame and inane) forms rather than allowing them to grow and warp as folklore should.

Okay, so a bit o' science: Una Lake is what is called a rift lake or a sag pond (yes, there are technical differences between them, but I have been unable to find out which one best describes Una Lake). It sits on the San Andreas Fault, in a depression caused by the movement of the fault. Nearby Lake Palmdale (nearby as in "across the street") is in a similar basin, where a small natural lake has been turned into a larger reservoir (edited to add: the 1915 USGS topographic map for the location shows Lake Palmdale labeled as Una Lake, with the part now known as Una Lake being the eastern extent, cut off from the rest by the railroad, which appears to have been built on fill soils - so much for the bottomless lake, and thanks to one of the commenters below for pointing me to this map). A bit to the west, Lake Elizabeth is in a similar geologic formation. There has been a small lake within what is now Lake Palmdale for centuries, and it appears that Una Lake was part of this larger body. Regardless, the alleged depth of the lake may be due to it being on the fault and potentially between two cliffs....or it may be complete nonsense, I have been unable to find a reliable source of the lake's actual depth.

Neat!

Incidentally, my favorite entry from the comments on one of the "illustrious internet" entries in the sources below comes after a description of a cross erected near the lake that supposedly commemorates a murder victim. The commenter simply states "i broke that guys cross off nd threw it in the lake" (sic). Nobody feeds the troll, which is a shame, as it would likely have been hilarious.

Sources: Local Folklore, All Voices, The Illustrious Internet, My AV Online, More from the Illustrious Internet, Shadowlands

The Ghost of the Central Park Canal, Bakersfield, California

If you go to the canal in Bakersfield's Central Park at dawn, you are likely to run into something that perhaps you'd prefer not to see. A ghostly woman, wearing a white robe-like garment, has been reported to haunt this area, and might be seen by early risers. Some reports say that she weeps as she wanders the canal's banks, while others don't report any sounds at all.

Local legend holds that this ghost is the spirit of a murdered woman whose remains were found under the floor of an old foundry when work was performed there (other versions of the story claim that her remains were found on the other side of the park). Who she was, why she was murdered, or even when she was murdered have never been determined.

Nonetheless, her ghost wanders the canal.


Commentary: This appears to be another urban legend/legend tripping case. We have the location where the ghost can be seen, a time to go and see her, a description of the ghost that is vague enough to allow the imagination to run wild, and an origin story of the ghost that nicely avoids particulars.

One particularly interesting point is that at least one group of people have argued that this is a variation on the La Llarona story. There are certainly similarities - a mysterious woman who is seen close to water, sometimes heard weeping. However, there are also differences, this woman was supposedly a murder victim, and not a mother who had killed her children or allowed them to be killed. Also, some of the traits that she shares with many stories of La Llarona - the wandering, weeping, and the robe-like clothing - are also shared with many other legends of ghosts.

Is there a link between La Llarona and Bakersfield's ghost? Perhaps. But the interesting question to me is, if there is a connection, is the Bakersfield ghost a variation on the La Llarona story, or did elements of the La Llarona story get added to an existing story in Bakersfield?


Sources: Internet, Internet, Internet

La Llorona

There was a beautiful widow who had two children. Although her children meant the world to her, she knew that she could not support them on her own and so she began to search for a new husband. She spent most of her evenings in saloons, cafes, anywhere where the men of her town would gather, searching for a husband who could help support her family. One night while she was out, bandits attacked her home and killed her children. When she returned home, she saw what had happened, and the knowledge that she might have been able to stop the murders had she been home rather than at the saloon drove her insane. She began to wander, crying "where are my children?" To this day, her ghost is still seen wandering the countryside, calling out for her lost children.

If that sounds a bit off, try this version:

A widow with two children fell in love with a man who had no interest in children. After trying for a long time to get his attention, she finally decided that her children were the impediment, and so she drowned them in the river. When the man discovered what she had done, he was horrified and refused to have anything to do with her. She was hung, but her ghost can still be seen wandering the riverbanks, crying for her lost children.

Still not quite right? How about this version:

A woman married and had two children with a horrible man, a ne'er do-well and a philanderer. One evening, he came home with another woman on his arm. He told his wife that he wished to see his children, but that she meant nothing to him any longer, he had replaced her with someone younger an prettier. The only way to get revenge against this man was to kill the children, which she did. After she had drowned them in the river, she realized what she had done, and gave herself up to the authorities. To this day, her ghost can still be seen wandering the banks of the river, crying and searching for her lost children."

...and there are many other versions. In some, the mother murders her children, in others they die due to her neglect, and in others she is arguably blameless in their deaths, and yet blames herself anyway. In some versions, she kills herself, in others she is executed, and in others she dies a natural death but is condemned to Earth by God for her failings as a mother.


Commentary: La Llorona (pronounced La Ya-Rona) or "the crying woman" is one of the classic ghost stories. Although this story is a common urban legend, it has been attached to many specific locations throughout the Americas, primarily Latin America and locations with large Hispanic populations within the U.S. and Canada. In addition to tellings of the story, reported sightings of La Llorona are common in these areas as well.

The origins and meaning of the story are very much open to intepretation.

One origin claimed for the story is that the Aztec the goddess Cihuacoatl or Coatlicue appeared before the Spanish arrived, crying for the death of her children, thus prophesying the destruction of the Aztec empire at the hands of the conquistadors. Over time, this story may have evolved into the La Llorona story. However, I am very skeptical of this, as the story of the prophecy sounds like a story developed after the destruction of the empire in an attempt to mythologize and make sense of the empire's destruction, and therefore it seems just as likely that later La Llorona tales influenced this story as that a pre-Colonial story morphed into La Llorona.

Another source that is often broguht up is the Banshee of Irish folkore. While there are some similarities, and a few specific La Llorona stories clearly claim that the crying woman is a harbinger of death, there are also a number of differences (La Llorona is a ghost, while the Banshee is a fey spirit, just for starters). Also, La Llorona appears in places with large Spanish-speaking populations, begging the question of why these people would be continuing an Irish story. It is nonetheless very likely that Banshee stories did influence the development of various La Llorona stories.

Most likely in my own personal estimation, the story began as a folktale in Latin America and moved along with immigrant populations throughout the Americas. Local conditions, different storytellers, and local traditions influenced the further development of the story, and as such, you have a number of different variations now.

The purpose of the story is also variable. First and foremost, it seems to be a campfire story - the sort of story that friends tell each other for entertainment, without taking the story too seriously. A second function appears to be as a safety tool for parents - water figures prominently in many (if not most) versions of the story and the ghost is usually reported at the riverbanks, suggesting that the story may be used to scare kids away from drowning hazards, and in the arid southwest of the United States (one of the places where this story is especially popular) flash floods in the arroyos are a deadly hazard.

Also, La Llorona appears to have become something of a boogey man, with parents telling their children "if you're not good, La Llorona will get you!"


The ghost story is a popular one, and has served as the basis for a film. What seperates it from most urban legends is that, as mobile and clearly "urban-legendish" as it is, there are still sightings of La Llorona, elevating it to an allegedly true ghost story.

Special Treat: The guys from Hometown Tales put together a video segment on the La Llarona legend as it is known in New Mexico. Check it out:



SOURCES: Internet, Internet

The Channel Islands 'Antap

Although the native peoples of the area, the Barbareno and Ventureno Chumash, had many stories about the islands, two are of particular interest here, and both were collected by anthropologist J. P. Harrington.

STORY 1: The first story concerns an Italian fisherman in the employ of a Chumash man. They go out to Santa Barbara Island during a fishing trip, and find a large rock containing a cave off of the shore of the island. The top of the cave contains a vent hole, and the Italian man climbs up to it and looks in. He begins acting strangely and returns to the boat. On the trip back to the mainland, the Italian tells his employer that he had seen two men in the cave, both Chumash, and that when water would rush into the cave, they would stand and begin blowing their ceremonial whistles. The Chumash employer returns home and tells his relatives of this. And elderly relative informs him that the whistling ceremony began on Santa Barbara Island, and that anyone who witnesses it will soon die. Not long after that the Italian man drowns while working off of the coast of Santa Barbara.

STORY 2: The second story concerns an Anglo-American (in the mid 19th century, these distinctions mattered) and a Chumash boy who went to Santa Cruz Island to gather abalone. The Anglo man found a cave in the rocks in which he saw two men with a bullroarer and an elderwood flute practicing ceremonial dances. When the water was at high tide, the cave was hidden, but at low tide it was exposed. As waves crashed into the cave, the two dancers were not affected. The man and the boy left to return to the mainland. On the way back, the man fell out of the boat and drowned. The boy returned home and told his grandmother what he had seen. She told him that he had seen the ‘Antap, a dangerous thing to see, and she gave him a potion made of toloache (Jimson weed) to prevent evil from coming to the boy.

Commentary: Probably the two most common things that one hears when an alleged haunting is discussed are: the location of the haunting is built on an “Indian Burial Ground” (usually nonsense), the other is that “The Native Americans have stories about this being a bad place” (also usually nonsense). There are many Native American stories about supernaturally dangerous places and things, but most of the popular ghost stories that claim a Native American link make that claim falsely. But not these two.

These stories, as noted, were collected by the early Californian ethnographer J. P. Harrington. Harrington was an odd and rather controversial figure who has gained both loyalty and notoriety amongst those with whom he lived and worked. ex-wife even wrote a tell-all book about her life with him in an age before tell-all books were the rage. The family of the woman who took care of Harrington in his old age, with whom I am acquainted, claim that the ex-wife’s book is all exaggeration and lies. Personally, I don’t claim to know, but I do know that he was a colorful character and a fascinating story in and of himself.

These stories are interesting because they show the continuation of older traditions, but also the way that those traditions were changed by the arrival of Europeans. The ‘Antap were an actual group in Chumash society – a religious/ritual organization that could only be entered if one’s parents paid for one’s entry during childhood. In order to rise through the ranks of Chumash society and become a person of high status, one must be a member of the ‘Antap. Like many traditional and “mystery cult” organizations, the ‘Antap held that it was dangerous for the uninitiated to witness ceremonies. As a result, the ‘Antap’s ceremonies, and many aspects of ‘Antap society, remained shrouded in secrecy, and the ‘Anatap themselves seem to have become boogie men towards the end of the prehistoric period. By the early 20th century, many have ceased viewing the ‘Antap as human shamans and ritualists at all, and have come to view them as supernatural beings, as seen in these stories (it should be noted, though, that many people continued to view them simply as powerful humans – shamans, sorcerers, or even assassins, but human nonetheless). As such, the ‘Antap had now become associated with places of magical danger.

SOURCE: Academic Publication