Buried in the Woods: Haunting Stories from Forgotten Places

[00:00:00] True Tales of Horror, Bizarre Happenings, Unexplainable Events. On our podcast, Disturbed, Terror takes center stage. Kidnappings, serial killers, hauntings, and the very essence of your worst nightmares coming to life on this weekly true horror show. Enter at your own risk.

[00:00:34] Just south of Athens, Texas, there's a quiet stretch of road that crosses a small bridge. To most drivers, it's just another forgotten past in a rural part of the state. No different than a hundred others that are like it. But ask almost anyone who grew up in the area and they'll likely tell you about the stories. This bridge, they say, has something different about it. I imagine it being whispered when it's named. Monkey Bridge.

[00:01:03] And just beyond it, in the wooded area known as Fuller Park, is where the real legend lives. The story goes that sometime in the 1960s, a circus train derailed near this site. A train carrying a traveling circus skidded off the tracks or possibly overturned while crossing the bridge. Then it released a group of monkeys into the surrounding forest. Some of the animals died in the wreck, but others survived, escaping into the dense, east

[00:01:31] Texas woods. Sightings began almost immediately. People reported seeing monkeys starting between the trees, hanging from the branches or crossing the quiet back roads. Some say they screamed at night. High-pitched, unearthly cries that echoed through the trees. According to the most extreme versions of the legend, the monkeys became aggressive, even violent.

[00:01:55] A few accounts claim that a family, possibly circus handlers or the owners of the property, the Fullers, were attacked and killed by the animals. Their bodies buried in the nearby woods. But that was only the beginning. As I dug deeper into the story, I found the mystery of the man behind that property. Talks of the occult and even more dark history in Athens, Texas.

[00:02:26] In this episode, I'm going to tell you about some of the lesser-known stories in wooded areas. Anywhere from urban legends to true and verified murderous tales. My name is Edwin, and here's a horror story. I first heard about this one from one of our listeners, Chad from Texas.

[00:02:51] Tucked away in the southeastern corner of Athens, there is a quiet, wooded piece of land known as Fuller Park. Today, it's mostly peaceful. Just trees, shadows, and the final resting place of two long-gone souls. Visitors, though, might say it feels anything but serene. And over the years, whispers have grown up around this place. Tales of strange happenings and buried secrets.

[00:03:21] Back in the 1930s, Fuller Park may have started out as a campground. It was reportedly used by youth from the Athens First Baptist Church and by campers from the old Buckner Children's Home. It was a vision of Reverend Melton Lee Fuller, the pastor of that church. And eventually, the park became the burial site for him and his wife. At the time, the church was just a simple framed building.

[00:03:46] And over the next couple of decades, he led the congregation in transforming it into one of the most modern church complexes in East Texas. He was a builder, missionary, and a force in the community. He also knew how to handle money. He and his wife, Virginia, who often played the church organ, never had children. She died in the 1930s, and when Reverend Fuller passed in 1944, he was buried beside her in the park he created.

[00:04:16] That's where the legends begin. You see, some say Fuller Park is haunted. Others claim it was once a site of occult rituals. But the most persistent rumor, though, is that it hides a tunnel system, an underground network running beneath the streets of Athens. Then we have the tales of the monkeys. That part of the story about the handlers or the family being killed by monkeys at Fuller Park is particularly hard to trace.

[00:04:45] But like many local legends, the lack of documentation makes it stronger. The very idea that something might have been covered up or forgotten adds to the mystery. Churches and governments sometimes hide secrets. And up until this point, it sounds like a mix of urban legends. And I thought that too, until I found an article by Brian Sterling written in 1989 with a lot more detail.

[00:05:13] The credit for the actual newspaper scans goes to Justin Mosley from his blog, Black of Day, and his research for a documentary of the same name. The Fuller Memorial Park, as it's known, was made to remember Reverend Fuller. Although now people say it's used for the occult and to do drugs. Kind of ironic. But like I mentioned, it's named for the Reverend and his wife who are buried there.

[00:05:40] Their graves are marked and at first glance, there's no connection to them and the monkey's story. The real mystery here is why Reverend Fuller actually purchased it. Like the whole area. Why did he build a wall around it and didn't do anything with it? This is like 20 acres we're talking about. That much space to rest there forever? The only thing that would explain it to us, the will left by Reverend Fuller,

[00:06:07] that may have had all the answers, was lost in a fire. One that was considered mysterious as well. A quote by the news article says when interviewing a resident, I don't know just what his idea was in buying the property. After he had the wall built around it, he never did anything more with it. And I don't know why he'd want to be buried out there with nobody around there to take care of the property.

[00:06:33] Part of it was eventually sold off with the regular conditions that come with a property that has a gravesite on it. Basically, family and heirs were allowed to go there at any time to visit the graves. The other condition was also to maintain the graves forever. But now, everyone's gone. Even the heirs to the property. But stepping into this place from what I've seen in videos, it's like entering another world. It's surrounded by an iron ore wall.

[00:07:03] Fortified. Although now it's falling apart. A few particular things are what gives it the lore here. There are monkey cages that serve as landmarks at the park. People go there to get scared or perform rituals. And according to Justin Mosley, the documentarian, they had found recent signs of one when they went out there. Over time, the existence of a cemetery in the same woods where the monkeys allegedly disappeared has helped the legends intertwine.

[00:07:33] People talk about the ghosts of the circus family, the sounds of the screaming monkeys, and strange shapes moving between the trees. They speak of the nearby bridge as a place you don't linger after dark. They found spray-painted pentacles on four trees and on the roof of one of these cages. The fact that we can't get clear answers on this is what makes it intriguing. Some say that the cages were for the monkeys and that they were bringing them to the property.

[00:08:02] It was supposedly going to be a zoo. Others talk about the traveling circus and the accident. While others say that they weren't for monkeys at all. Some have claims seeing mutilated animal carcasses around there. And if you keep going deeper, like Justin did, you'll see a barn that is toppling over. I don't know if it's still there almost 20 years after the article was written by Justin, but if you're local to the area and know about it, I'd like to know.

[00:08:30] Just an old abandoned creepy barn and an old tow truck. Trespassers and vandals have ruined a lot of it by now, unfortunately. What was the intention though? Where I get a large property, do nothing with it, and then ask to be buried there. Was there something more, a buried secret, that was significant to the reverend? Now this part about the underground network, that really got me interested.

[00:08:58] People have speculated that these tunnels might date back to the 1800s, even tying them to the underground railroad. One woman, who didn't want to be named, told a local reporter that she had always heard that the tunnels were used to help enslaved people escape the south, that the entrances lined up with five mysterious pentagrams around town. This was according to the Athens Daily Review website.

[00:09:24] Others say that the tunnels were built to transport moonshine during the prohibition. But did they actually exist? According to an article in the Athens Daily Review, a person actually came forward to say where the entrances were, even drawing a map. When I say that this draws attention locally, I mean it. According to some commenters in this short blog post by Justin, has these arguments, people going back and forth.

[00:09:53] Although sometimes it gets a bit comical. A man supposedly found a map of these tunnels and went to prove it. Others say that they've heard that one of the tunnels runs to Athens Country Club and connects with Arby's. The commenter even asked for proof, asking them to go to their house and gave his full address. But there was one comment by a guest poster who claims that they went there in 2010 and found the tunnels, made of the same type of rock of the wall from Fuller Park.

[00:10:21] It was found on the south side of it. They actually went in. She said that when she reached the end, she found a round concrete room with about 25 to 30 foot ceiling. She saw some very large pillars with writings on them. Her and her friends decided to go back instead of venturing into the other tunnels, but also says that it might just be a sewer system. But that also raises a question. If it's just that,

[00:10:50] then why are the entrances all covered up and kept a secret? Lots more was in those threads, including a search for answers of Ricky Harwich, a man who was murdered and found on Monkey Bridge, with absolutely no answers in decades. Numerous modern-day visitors say that they've experienced odd things near the bridge and the surrounding woods. Some describe hearing animalistic screeches with no apparent source.

[00:11:20] There's also the atmosphere. People often mention a sense of heaviness or unease that sets in when you cross the bridge, on foot, or when you walk alone in the nearby woods. Some cars parked near the bridge have been found scratched or with strange residue on the windshield, although no one's been able to say exactly what caused it. So now let's visit another area, up in North Carolina,

[00:11:49] to explore another mystery. There is a patch of land in central North Carolina that isn't what it seems. You won't find fences around it. No tour guides, no brochures. In fact, it's easy to miss it unless you're looking for it. Just off a narrow, rural road near Harper's Crossroads in Chatham County, past thick woods and sleepy fields, there's a dirt turnout where cars sometimes park at odd hours of the day or night.

[00:12:18] If you step past the trees, that's where you'll see it. A nearly perfect circle, about 40 feet in diameter, where, for reasons no one has convincingly explained, nothing seems to grow. No grass, no weeds, not even moss. They call it the Devil's Tramping Ground. They have for well over a century,

[00:12:47] and some say even longer. The circle has been part of North Carolina folklore since at least the 1800s. According to the most well-known version of the legend, the Devil himself comes to this spot each night to walk in circles. He just paces, slowly, deliberately, thinking about how to bring more pain into the world. And as he walks, the ground beneath his feet stays barren,

[00:13:16] unable to grow a single living thing. Now, if you're like me, you would take the story, but think of it as that. Something you hear around a campfire, or in schoolyard whispers. The thing is, the circle is real. You can go there now, and you'll see the same dusty, dead patch that people have been talking about for generations. The mystery isn't just the legend. It's the fact that over the years,

[00:13:45] people have tried to make sense of the place, and none of their explanations quite hold. The soil has been tested more than once, and early reports from the mid-20th century claim that the land contained high levels of salt, which could prevent plant growth. The more recent analyses have been inconclusive, some suggesting that the salt levels aren't high enough to account for the complete lack of vegetation, while others hint at possible contamination,

[00:14:14] natural or otherwise. There are no nearby industrial sites, no large deposits of metal or ash, no known chemical spills, and yet, the circle remains stubbornly lifeless. Even more curious, locals say that attempts to break the mystery physically haven't worked either. People have tried to plant crops there, nothing took. Objects left at the circle, like stakes or markers,

[00:14:43] have reportedly disappeared by morning. And animals, especially dogs, are said to avoid crossing the boundary altogether. Still, it's important to be cautious about which stories you accept at face value. Some of these accounts have been exaggerated over the years or passed on secondhand. And when a place picks up a name, like the Devil's Tramping Ground, it's almost guaranteed that the more dramatic versions will outlast the mundane ones. That's just how folklore works sometimes.

[00:15:13] But when you visit, it's not the name or the stories that leave the strongest impression. It's the atmosphere. It's subtle, quiet, not eerie in the horror movie sense. The surrounding woods are pretty typical of North Carolina. There's pines, scrub brush, and clay-heavy soil. But standing at the edge of that circle, something does feel off. It's not easy to describe. Some say that it feels like a kind of emptiness, not threatening, just

[00:15:43] unnatural. Again, the location itself is unassuming. There's a hand-painted wooden sign nailed to a tree that reads simply, Devil's Tramping Ground. The land is privately owned, and while visitors aren't exactly encouraged, they're not always turned away. Over the years, people have camped there, some out of curiosity, others as part of paranormal investigations. A few claim that they experience strange things during the night. Most just come,

[00:16:13] look around, and then leave with more questions than they'd arrived with. So what is it, really? A patch of bad soil? An elaborate prank that went too far? A side of historical significance that maybe has been misunderstood? Maybe all three? Maybe none? But it's been like that for generations, and no one has convincingly figured out why. And that alone makes it worth looking a little more closely.

[00:16:40] Because whether you believe in folklore or not, and whether you're the kind of person who trusts science or stories, or maybe both, the Devil's Tramping Ground remains a place without answers. In the age of satellite maps, soil sensors, and global information, that's becoming an increasingly rare thing. In 1784, a land deed referred to that part of the area, a poison field tract,

[00:17:09] a name that hints at how long people have noticed something unusual about the soil there. That's not the name you give an ordinary clearing. It suggests that even back then, people saw the land as a place where normal rules didn't quite apply. By the mid to late 1800s, the location had picked up a more defined reputation. In an account from 1882, there's mention of indigenous people, likely from the region's Native American tribes, refusing to dig on the land,

[00:17:39] reportedly believing it was spiritually dangerous. It's difficult to know exactly how much of that is rooted in accurate tradition, and how much may have been filtered through settler interpretation. But it's clear that the area was regarded with caution, long before the devil was brought into the story. And then, in the early 20th century, local newspapers began publishing more detailed descriptions of the phenomenon.

[00:18:04] A 1905 article noted that vegetation failed to grow in a specific circular formation, and referenced earlier suspicions that the site may have been used for Native American burials or rituals. That same article mentioned that the soil in the circle was noticeably different in color and texture in the surrounding land. By the 1930s, the supernatural framing started to become more prominent.

[00:18:32] One story reported during that time described a black beast, something like a bear, that emerged from the woods and chased away hunters and their dogs near the circle. The animal was said to be unidentifiable, with features that didn't quite match any known species. Stories like that fueled the growing mystique, blending folklore with the unknown. And then after World War II in 1946,

[00:18:59] there were attempts to approach the site from a more scientific angle. Soil tests were conducted, and at that point, the area was already gaining a reputation beyond Chatham County. Throughout the 20th century, more and more accounts surfaced. Some from people who had camped there overnight, and claimed their belongings were moved, or scattered by morning. Others from skeptics trying to prove that there was nothing unusual at all.

[00:19:28] But even skeptics often admitted that the persistence of the circle was, at the very least, unusual. And perhaps the most telling of all is the fact that the circle hasn't changed. Over a hundred years of recorded observations, and the spot remains just as barren as when it was first documented. The surrounding forest has changed. Roads have been built. Populations have grown. But the circle stays the same.

[00:19:58] Unchanged, unexplained, and still provoking questions. So while the legend of the devil might have helped cement its place in folklore, the historical record tells a slightly different story. This is a place that people have been noticing, marking, and avoiding for a very long time. Whatever the true cause may be, the circle's presence in maps, deeds, newspaper archives, and oral histories

[00:20:26] gives it a weight that goes beyond ghost stories. More speculative theories suggest that underground mineral deposits or magnetic anomalies could play a role. Some paranormal investigators have claimed to find slight electromagnetic disturbances at the site. Those readings haven't been confirmed by any major scientific institution. Plus, electromagnetic fields at low levels are common in many places without leading to barren soil. But remember,

[00:20:55] there is also the behavior of animals around the site. Numerous anecdotal accounts describe how dogs refuse to enter the circle, even when lured in. Now, while that's difficult to verify scientifically, it has shown up in a variety of reports going back several decades. No one has studied this behavior in a controlled setting, so it remains an open question. Possibly more behavioral than environmental. But maybe not.

[00:21:25] One of the more detailed accounts came from a North Carolina resident who visited the tramping ground in the fall of 2009. He shared his story anonymously online, and although it's difficult to verify the exact circumstances, the tone of the account is calm and serious, more curious than frightened. According to him, he and a group of friends decided to spend the night at the site, camping just outside the circle. Not long after midnight,

[00:21:53] they began to hear heavy footsteps moving around the perimeter. At first, they assumed it was another group of hikers, or maybe an animal. But the sounds were deliberate, slow, measured, and too rhythmic to be random. The crickets had stopped chirping, and the forest, usually alive with noise, had gone still. And then came a sharp, foul smell,

[00:22:21] described as sulfurous or decaying. No one saw anything, and by morning, nothing was out of place. But the group left with the feeling that something had been there, something they couldn't explain. And that story isn't unique. Over the years, people have reported hearing footsteps, seeing mist or shadow-like forms near the circle, and noticing sudden drops in temperature. Some mention a sense of being watched.

[00:22:52] Others describe a strange emotional reaction when they stand inside the circle, unease, sadness, or an overwhelming urge to leave. And then there are the simpler stories. People who drive out to the spot, stand at the edge of the circle, and just feel unsettled. In several cases, dog owners have claimed their pets began growling or whimpering at the edge, and flat out refused to go farther. Again,

[00:23:20] this hasn't been studied in any formal sense, but the consistency of the claim is hard to ignore. On the flip side, there are also plenty of people who have gone and had seen nothing at all. Just a strange patch of dirt in the woods. For them, the most unsettling thing about Devil's Tramping Ground might be the number of stories surrounding it, and not the experience itself. But even among the skeptics, there's often a quiet acknowledgement that the place is different. Maybe not supernatural,

[00:23:49] or not dangerous, but different in a way that's hard to quantify. The ground still doesn't grow anything. The circle still holds its shape. And people keep returning, year after year, to try and understand it. Or at least, to feel it for themselves. Of course, I was wondering one specific question, right? The aliens. And I did find some outliers. Stories about UFO landings, ancient energy fields, or electromagnetic anomalies.

[00:24:20] These ideas aren't supported by much evidence. But they still persist, because the mystery remains open. But what all these stories, serious, spiritual, speculative, have in common, is that they give shape to a place that defies easy explanation. The circle becomes a mirror for culture around it. A place to either project fears, beliefs, beliefs, and curiosities. That's why the devil's tramping ground still holds attention after all these years. Because it's not just a bare patch of soil in the woods.

[00:24:49] It's a space where history, science, and folklore meet. And where none of them quite cancel each other out. Instead, they overlap. Building a story that's both frustrating and fascinating. Whether you believe the stories or not, the circle is still there. Quiet, empty, and waiting. There's one more story I have for you here, and it takes place in southeastern Massachusetts.

[00:25:18] So let's go. Tucked between the towns of Freetown and Fall River lies a dense stretch of wood spanning nearly 5,000 acres. It's known simply as the Freetown Fall River State Forest. And at first glance, it looks like any other state park. Thick pine, oak trees, winding trails, and scattering of ponds and boulders. But for decades,

[00:25:47] this forest has carried a reputation that's darker than most. To understand why, you have to look at two overlapping areas. real, documented crimes, and the layers of folklore that have grown around them. The forest sits within a larger region known as the Bridgewater Triangle, a term coined in the 1970s by author and researcher Lauren Coleman. It refers to an area of southeastern Massachusetts that has become a focal point

[00:26:17] for all kinds of paranormal claims. Sightings of UFOs, Bigfoot-like creatures, poltergeist activity, and more. Freetown Fall River State Forest is often described as a heart of that triangle. But unlike many places where folklore lives only in rumor, Freetown Fall River's story begins with real events, some of them violent, and all of them unsettling.

[00:26:46] In the late 1970s, the area was linked to a series of murders and disturbing discoveries. In 1978, the mutilated remains of a young woman were found in the forest. That was followed by reports of animal sacrifices, often associated with signs of ritual activity, pentagrams, candle formations, and altars made from stones and wood.

[00:27:14] These incidents escalated into what became known as the cult murders, centered around a man named Carl Drew. Carl was eventually convicted in 1981 for the murder of Karen Marsden, a 20-year-old woman who had reportedly become involved in a local prostitution and drug activity. Prosecutors alleged that Drew led a small cult that practiced satanic rituals and used violence to control others. Witnesses in the trial

[00:27:44] described ritual killings that took place in the forest, including acts of mutilation and staged ceremonies. Drew was sentenced to life in prison without parole, though questions about the trial's reliability persist to this day. Some believe the satanic panic of the area may have influenced the investigation and testimony. Whatever the truth behind the cult allegations, the murders were real, and they solidified the forest's reputation

[00:28:13] as a place where the line between belief and brutality could blur. Even beyond the Drew case, the forest has been the site of numerous unsettling events. In 1980, another body of a teenage girl this time was discovered in the woods. In 2001, a man was arrested for dumping the remains of his daughter there after killing her. The forest has also been tied to numerous disappearances, assaults,

[00:28:43] and violent encounters. Law enforcement officers have publicly acknowledged that the area poses challenges not just because of the terrain, but because of its reputation, which continues to attract people seeking either seclusion or something darker. But alongside the documented crimes, the forest is steeped in supernatural folklore. Some hikers report hearing voices when no one is around. Others claim to have seen ghostly figures,

[00:29:14] strange mists, or glowing orbs floating between the trees. There are long-standing reports of cryptid-like creatures resembling large, upright animals spotted at the edge of clearings or moving through the brush. No credible photos or videos have ever confirmed these sightings, but the stories have persisted for decades. There's also a deep indigenous history here. Parts of the forest

[00:29:43] and the surrounding region were originally Wampanoag land, and some native leaders have voiced frustration that certain sacred sites, like Profile Rock, which sits on the edge of the forest, have been desecrated or commercialized. Some believe the disturbances of these areas have spiritual consequences and that the land itself may be reacting. Now, the result of this is a unique collision of elements. You have a place where true crime, indigenous trauma,

[00:30:11] and paranormal folklore all coexist, feeding into each other. It's a rare example of a haunted location where some of the fear is backed, not by rumor or exaggeration, but by court records, police investigations, and real violence. Even for those who don't believe in ghosts, the forest holds a psychological weight. You're not just walking among trees, you're walking through the residue of stories that are still raw for many in the community.

[00:30:42] And whether people go there to investigate the paranormal or to explore history, maybe just to hike, it's common to come away feeling unsettled. Because there, the unknown doesn't always wear a mask. Sometimes it looks very human. And that's what sets Freetown Fall River State Forest apart. It reminds us that some of the most haunting places in the world aren't filled with monsters or spirits. They're shaped by what people

[00:31:12] are capable of. The echoes of what's been done when no one else was watching. In every place we've visited in this episode, the Barren Circle in North Carolina, the Crime-Shadowed Woods of Massachusetts, or the Forgotten Mysteries outside of Athens, Texas, there's one common thread. Places that are meant to be peaceful, places of light and nature, hold much more than that. Nature has always been a place of transformation

[00:31:41] in human storytelling. They mark the boundary between the known world and what lies just beyond it. When someone steps into the woods in a story, they're stepping into a space where logic loosens and old rules don't always apply. That's what makes them powerful. But that's also what makes them unsettling. In The Devil's Tramping Ground, we saw how a simple circle of sterile soil can persist through centuries of science and storytelling, still resisting explanation.

[00:32:11] In Freetown Fall River, we saw what happens when actual violence and cultural trauma intertwine with myth, creating a forest that's haunted not just by stories, but by fact. In Fuller Park, we witnessed a different kind of legend, one that began as folklore, stayed alive through word of mouth, and now exists in a space between memory and mystery. These stories help communities shape identity. They preserve history,

[00:32:40] even when it's uncomfortable. They give us a language for the feelings we sometimes can't name. isolation, fear, awe, and grief. They remind us that mystery still lives among the ordinary, that every hike we might do to get away from our daily lives might actually bring us into another world, one where these dark stories live on, as long as we continue to share their memories. stories.

[00:33:18] This episode of Horror Story was researched and written by me, Edwin Covarrubias. A huge shout out to Chad for the idea for the Fuller Memorial Park story, and Justin Mosley from The Black of Day for providing images for the original newspaper publications. If you have similar local legends and stories, shoot me an email or DM. My information is in the description of this episode. Also, a huge shout out to Coley, Angela K. Thury, Rogers, Blanca M. Corona,

[00:33:48] Yenfielder 91, Crazy 7707 for your comments on Spotify. This came from the last episode about the silent mysteries of Antarctica. I appreciate your encouragement as our show grows. Really guys, it means a lot. Anyway, thank you very much for listening. Keep it scary, everyone. See you soon.