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The Never-ending Ride of Peter Rugg

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  “Let the storm increase! I will see home tonight in spite of the last tempest, or I may never see home!" Those were the last words ever spoken in anger by Peter Rugg. A man short of temper, but long on rage, his white wig flopped about on his head, matching time with his furious gesticulation. With the pleas to wait out the storm by his friend silenced, this soon to be unfortunate soul climbed into his one horse carriage and drove off into the night with his young daughter, Jenny, seated next to him. The two were fated to never reach their Boston home alive. The Never-ending Ride of Peter Rugg With so many of us preparing to travel for the holidays, it only seems right to spend a little time on the story of Peter Rugg. This was a man foolhardy enough to challenge nature itself and refuse the kind offer of safe haven at a time when just driving down the street had a 50/50 chance of survival. His anger and stubbornness are still known, these many years later, and his fin

Forge-In Blacksmith & Renaissance Festival

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This is something that happened last year. I was really looking forward to going again this year, but what are you gonna do? Viruses be virusin', yo. It's called the Forge-In Blacksmith Art & Renaissance Festival and it's been going on for over a decade and a half in Fitchburg. It's cancelled for COVID reasons, so I figured I'd finally get around to sharing it and remembering the good, old days of late September 2019. Look, no masks! It's your typical looking festival from the outside. You get your barricades, your crowd of people, and your smell of burning coal in the air. It's when you get inside that you see what sets this festival apart: Nerds. Seriously, there's every kind of nerd here. There are horse nerds: Neigh-ERDS! Blacksmith nerds: The guy on the left is either ripping a bong looking at a knife. I honestly don't remember. Jousting nerds: "That's Lady Nerd of The Seven

Ghosts of "The Rev"

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Nestled deep within Fitchburg, and far away from the consciousness of anyone outside Worcester County, you'll find Dean Hill Cemetery. It's a decently sized open field with far fewer headstones than you're used to seeing in a graveyard. It was established in 1791 as a resting place for the soldiers of the Revolutionary War and their families. Colloquially known  as "The Rev," it's also home to more than its fair share of ghost stories. Join us, if you will, on our search for the... Ghosts of "The Rev!" JUMP SCARE! There's really no way to overstate just how out of the way this place is. To give you an idea, here's the road leading up to it: If you squint, you can find the serial killer. It's on Ashburnham Road and was once close to the Dean Hill Tavern, which was built around 1777. The tavern is no more, but the cemetery still stands and gets all sorts of visitors, however unwelcome they may be. The cemetery i

Fitch Bits: The Wet Bandit of Central Mass

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Okay, so this is a story told to me by my neighbor. I have no way to prove any of it, but he has no reason to lie about it. Wasn't going to post it, but I got this last night. Credit: Rick Harris If it IS a lie, it's a damn good one and deserves a read. It turns out that his home was broken into a number of years ago. That's never fun, but this was definitely a fun loving criminal. As opposed to a Smooth Criminal Credit: CelebrtiyABC He didn't mention any stolen money or expensive property going missing, although you could say that this guy stole his spirit(s)! *Hold for applause* Credit: Kristarella Rather than ransack the place, this guy just sat his criminal ass down in the kitchen and helped himself to the entire liquor cabinet. To be clear, my neighbor was fast asleep upstairs while someone was getting drunk in his house. He also took some time to explore and left every single door open like he was raised in some sort of felonious b