Halloween brings spooky stories, ghostly wanderings, and old superstitions. But black cats are not evil. They are loving companions and symbols of good luck.
Sadly, black cats are often the last to be adopted from shelters. And during this season, some people target free‑roaming black cats. It’s cruel and heartbreaking.
Please keep your black cats indoors and safe. They deserve protection, love, and a world that sees their beauty — not outdated fear.
There’s a stretch of wilderness in the southwestern corner of the state where the trees grow close, the air hangs still, and the quiet feels heavier than it should. Hikers talk about a strange hush that settles over the land — a silence that doesn’t sound natural, a stillness that makes you stop walking and listen without knowing why.
This is Glastenbury Mountain, the heart of what people now call the Bennington Triangle.
Picture our campfire: a bright circle of light in the darkness, twigs snapping as they burn. Someone from our group steps away — just for a moment. Maybe to grab something from the tent or pick up a sweater. Nights get cold in these woods.
But they never return.
Vanished. Gone in the blink of an eye.
It sounds impossible… until you learn that five people have walked into these woods and never come back out. Only one was ever found — and her remains had been lying out there for months before surfacing.
An experienced woodsman leading a hunting party along a familiar trail. He walked a short distance ahead to scout the path, rounded a curve, and simply never returned.
Search teams combed the area for days. No footprints.or broken brush. No sign of an animal attack. Nothing. It was as if the forest opened up and took him.
One moment he was there. The next, he wasn’t.
A 19‑year‑old college student who went for a hike on the Long Trail. She was seen heading toward the woods… and then never again. Despite weeks of searching, no trace was ever found.
James Tedford — 1949A veteran traveling by bus through the area. Passengers saw him sitting in his seat as the bus approached Bennington — but when it arrived, he was gone. His belongings were still there. His seat was undisturbed. He had vanished from a moving bus.
Only eight years old. His mother left him in the family truck for about half an hour. When she returned, Paul was gone. Bloodhounds tracked his scent to a nearby road, where it simply ended. He was never found.
An experienced hiker and the only one ever recovered. She slipped into a brook and went to change her clothes. She never came back. Months later her body was discovered — but no cause of death could be determined.
Five disappearances. Five unsolved cases. One small region.
The Abenaki knew better than to trust Glastenbury. Hunting parties steered clear of its woods, no villages ever took root on its slopes, and travelers passed through without stopping. In their stories, the mountain was a place that swallowed people whole.
The Bennington Triangle is spooky not because of ghosts, but because of the feeling it gives you. It’s the kind of place where the forest seems to close in, where the trail feels longer than it should, and where the silence makes you wonder what’s listening.
It’s New England at its most mysterious.
So I ask you again…
Will you join me in the Bennington Triangle?
Good evening… and welcome.
Outside, October wind drifts through Salem’s narrow streets, brushing past brick façades and stirring the last leaves on the Common. Inside this handsome Derby Square building, warm light pools across polished wood, and conversation hums softly. Yet beneath that modern glow lies a history that never quite settles.
Tonight, we step into Rockafellas, a contemporary restaurant housed within a structure whose past stretches back two centuries — and whose roots reach even deeper.
Long before diners filled these rooms, the site belonged to Salem’s First Church, a congregation whose earlier meetinghouses stood witness to the uneasy tensions of 1692. Within that lineage, John and Elizabeth Proctor were questioned during the Salem Witch Trials, their futures hanging by a thread as fear swept through the town.
The building standing today rose in 1826, later reshaped in Victorian Gothic style. Though its architecture changed, the memory of those earlier meetinghouses clings to the space like a faint, persistent echo. Visitors often describe a subtle shift in the air — a quiet reminder that this corner of Salem has seen more than its share of troubled history.
Rockafellas doesn’t lean into theatrics. Its décor is modern, its atmosphere lively, its energy warm.
Even so, certain moments give guests pause: a sudden chill, a brief hush, the feeling that someone has paused nearby. Staff speak softly about the building’s “regulars,” the ones who never appear on the reservation list.
Among them is the Lady in Blue, glimpsed in an upstairs window after closing time — a figure who vanishes the moment anyone looks twice. Footsteps drift across the second floor when no one is there. A knock sounds against a wall with no door behind it. And stories linger about Daniel Low, the jeweler who died within these walls and, some say, still keeps watch.
These aren’t dramatic hauntings. They’re whispers. Echoes. Small reminders that history rarely stays quiet in Salem.
🕯️ Where Past and Present Share the Same RoomRockafellas may not resemble a haunted house, but it carries the weight of a haunted place — shaped by centuries of worship, fear, tragedy, and transformation.
The witch trial lineage. The meetinghouse legacy. The quiet spirits said to linger. The Lady in Blue watching from above.
Together, they create an atmosphere that settles gently, like a familiar guest returning to a room they once knew well.
As candles flicker and the wind presses against the windows, remember: this is Salem. The past never wanders far. Sometimes it sits at the table beside you.
Welcome to Haunted October — and together, we’ll explore the myths, legends, hauntings, and mysteries of New England.
Happy Halloween, dear readers! Since today marks the spookiest day of the year, it felt like the perfect time to revisit one of the eeriest corners of Massachusetts—the infamous Bridgewater Triangle.
I first wrote about this mysterious region back in 2017 in a post aptly titled Bridgewater Triangle. At the time, it was still gaining traction in paranormal circles, having been introduced in the 1970s by cryptozoologist Loren Coleman in his book Mysterious America. Since then, the legend has only grown.
The Bridgewater Triangle spans roughly 200 square miles in Southeastern Massachusetts. Its three points are Abington, Rehoboth, and Freetown, but the interior includes a whole host of towns: Brockton, Whitman, West Bridgewater, East Bridgewater, Bridgewater, Middleboro, Dighton, Berkley, Raynham, Norton, Easton, Lakeville, Seekonk—and yes, Taunton. That means I’m right in the middle of it!
The Triangle recently resurfaced in pop culture thanks to an episode of Expedition X, one of Josh Gates’ paranormal adventure series. If you’ve followed Josh since Destination Truth launched in 2007, you’ve likely joined him on virtual journeys through Expedition Unknown, Legendary Locations, Expedition Files, and now Expedition X.
The Bridgewater Triangle is a magnet for the unexplained. Reports include UFO sightings, Bigfoot
encounters, giant Thunderbirds, and the elusive Pukwudgie—small, human-like creatures from Wampanoag folklore. Their name translates to “little wild man of the woods that vanishes,” which feels especially fitting this time of year.
If you’re feeling brave and want to explore the Triangle this Halloween, here are some of its most legendary—and spine-tingling—locations:
There are more haunted spots—including several buildings at Bridgewater State University—but we’ll save those for another year.
Wishing you a Spooktacular Halloween filled with mystery, magic, and maybe a few goosebumps. If you dare to explore the Triangle, let me know what you find… or what finds you.
As October winds whisper through Taunton’s trees and jack-o’-lanterns flicker on porches, it’s easy to forget that Halloween’s roots stretch far beyond candy and costumes. This beloved holiday traces its lineage to Samhain (pronounced “SOW-in”), a mystical Celtic festival celebrated in Ireland over 2,000 years ago. At Around Dusty Roads, we love digging into the folklore behind modern traditions—and Samhain is a treasure trove of eerie enchantment.
Samhain: A Portal Between WorldsFor the ancient Celts, Samhain marked the end of the harvest and the beginning of winter. The Celts celebrated Samhain on October 31st, marking it as their New Year—a mystical time when the veil between the living and the dead thinned. They believed spirits roamed freely that night, so villagers took precautions to protect themselves. Animal-skin costumes and bone masks helped disguise the living from the dead, while bonfires blazed to ward off malevolent forces. Offerings of food were left out to appease wandering souls.
One of the most haunting traditions? Carving turnips into lanterns. These ghostly gourds, lit from within by embers, were placed in windows to scare away evil spirits. They were the original jack-o’-lanterns—long before pumpkins took center stage.
As Christianity spread through Ireland, Samhain’s customs blended with All Saints’ Day, giving rise to All Hallows’ Eve. In the 19th century, Irish immigrants carried these traditions to America, where they evolved in new ways. Pumpkins—larger and easier to carve than turnips—became the lantern of choice. Trick-or-treating emerged as a playful twist on ancient offerings, and Halloween transformed into the festive celebration we know today.
Back in Ireland, Halloween remains a spirited affair. The last Monday in October is a public holiday, and many communities still honor age-old customs. Turnip lanterns, holy water rituals, and fortune-telling games with apples and barmbracks (a fruit-studded bread) echo the past. Families also use the night to remember loved ones, leaving out food and firewood as gestures of welcome.
🛠️ Affiliate Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links for turnip and pumpkin carving kits. If you purchase through these links, Around Dusty Roads may earn a small commission—at no extra cost to you. Every recommendation is chosen with care to match our nature-loving, storytelling spirit.
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