Slightly Odd Fitchburg

The S.K. Pierce Mansion She made her money on her back and that was just fine by her. She was tough and knew what it took to make a living in this world and no one was gonna get in her way. That massive old Victorian was an eyesore, anyway. Who cared if one of the boarders in this rundown shithole brought her Johns in to seal the deal? The Red Room was HER room and she could do as she pleased. She didn’t bother no one and no one bothered her. Then she felt his fingers close around her throat. They were thick and calloused and crushed her windpipe like a steel vise. That’s what you get when you sell yourself to the factory workers just outside the door. She never knew when one would lose his mind and assault her before leaving her with no money for her time. There was no telling what set this one off. Maybe she rushed him or maybe he just couldn’t get it up and wanted to take it out on her. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the heaving of her chest as her body screamed for air.

There are two sides to every story and two sides to every person. There’s the story you get publicly, with all of its embellishments and inaccuracies, and the story that’s actually true. It’s just like the public persona a person puts out and the private individual with his or her own thoughts and motivations. Such is the case with Arthur Blood and Lancaster Town Forest. Talk to some people and you’ll hear the story of a kindly old gentleman who donated his private land so his town could have a public, wooded area to explore. Talk to other people and you’ll hear the tale of a murderous psychopath who slashed his way through the local populace after he lost his mind. Which story is true? Well, we may never know. One thing is clear, though: Blood Town Forest will always be a great place to take a hike!   Nothing creepy to see here! The Hauntings This is a story that’s best to start off at the final result. Camp or hike through Blood Forest and you might just run into a few victi

Shit happens. Some awful, no good, very bad shit happens, and that’s just life. It’s not just the shit that’s always the biggest problem, though. The bigger problem is that the shit always wants to drag you down with it. It has no other function other than to grab onto you and try to stay with you for the rest of your life, stopping you from ever getting back up after it knocks you down the first time. If you find yourself wallowing in it long after that initial shit attack, then that’s just what it wants. It’s done its job and it can go slinking back to the hell that birthed it until it finds someone new to fling itself at. That’s what happened to Mrs. Martha Keyes in April of 1755. This is her story, and the story of her daughter, Lucy Keyes. Definitely not looking good when a headstone is the first image. The History It was April 14, 1755 when Martha Keyes sent her two eldest daughters, Patty Keyes and Anna Keyes to fetch her some sand from Wachusett Lake. They were a t

  I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the world is full of assholes. I know, it's a tough pill to swallow, but here we are. You get assholes who just can't stand it when someone else does something they don't understand and you get assholes that can't bear someone being happy and keeping to themselves. Luckily, there are occasional heroes who stand up for the God given right to exist without having to answer to these drooling buffoons. One of those heroes was Joseph Palmer, who hailed from an olde timey village just outside of Leominster. He had the courage to live life the way he wanted and he never made a single excuse for it. This was a man who knew the glory of a luxurious full face beard and suffered in its name. That's right; our hero Joseph Palmer was... Gasp! The History Joseph's story began in 1798 when he was born in Massachusetts. He grew up and turned into a farmer living is Notown, MA. Although it's now just a bunch of sweet loo