Mystical places in United States
75 legends · 49 cities
Cities
- New York2
- Portland2
- Salem2
- Abilene1
- Babylon1
- Bowie1
- Chicago1
- Clifton1
- Easton1
- Elkhorn1
- Estes Park1
- Eureka Springs1
- Exeter1
- Fall River1
- Flatwoods1
- Fort Worth1
- Fouke1
- Gettysburg1
- Ironton1
- Key West1
- Kirtland1
- Koppel1
- Leisure City1
- Long Beach1
- Los Angeles1
- Louisiana1
- Louisville1
- Loveland1
- Lyons Township1
- Marfa1
- Mattoon1
- Moca1
- Monroe1
- Moundsville1
- Oshkosh1
- Philadelphia1
- Pleasant Hill1
- Point Pleasant1
- Provo1
- Saint Augustine1
- Saint Francisville1
- San Francisco1
- San Jose1
- Sedona1
- Shamong Township1
- Taos1
- Villisca1
- Weston1
- Whitehall1
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The Rake
A hairless creature on four limbs, sitting beside a sleeping person's bed. It appeared around 2005 as a collaborative forum project: several users agreed to invent a monster and supply it with "historical evidence" — extracts from a 1691 ship's log, Spanish chronicles, diaries. Every document is fictional and was written the same evening. The case is interesting as a rare documented example of folklore being manufactured deliberately and from nothing.
Smile Dog
One of the first internet horror stories built around a file rather than a text. It appeared around 2008: a journalist visits a woman to ask about a picture called smile.jpg that drives mad everyone who sees it; the woman refuses to talk and eventually sends the file. The trick is that the file does not exist — every "original" circulating online appeared after the story did. The reader has to imagine the image, and imagination does the job better than any drawing.
The Dybbuk Box
A wine cabinet listed on eBay in 2003 with a long description: supposedly it had belonged to a Holocaust survivor and contained a possessing spirit from Jewish folklore. The lot was resold repeatedly, each owner adding fresh misfortunes to the listing, the auction spread across the internet and eventually became a Hollywood film. In 2021 the original seller, the writer Kevin Mannis, publicly acknowledged that the whole thing was fiction he had written — a literary project that accidentally became a modern legend.
Annabelle at the Warrens' museum
The real Annabelle is not the porcelain doll of the films but an ordinary Raggedy Ann of the kind sold by the million in the 1960s. Her history is known solely from the accounts of Ed and Lorraine Warren, who took the doll in 1970 and put it in a glass case in their occult museum in Monroe, Connecticut. There is no independent confirmation of any episode. The museum has been closed to visitors since 2019, but the doll remains one of the most recognisable objects in American popular occultism.
Robert the Doll
A cloth doll in a sailor suit standing behind glass at Fort East Martello in Key West. It was given to the painter Robert Eugene Otto in the early twentieth century, and by family account he talked to it and blamed it for things broken and overturned in the house. The museum now asks visitors to request the doll's permission before photographing it, and the walls around the case are covered with letters from people who did not ask and connect their subsequent misfortunes to that. The doll is real, the museum is real, and there is an admission charge.
The Char Man of Ojai
A Californian bogeyman: a burned man living by Creek Road Bridge in the Ojai Valley, who in one version survived the 1948 wildfire and in another lost his family in it. If you stop on the bridge and call him, the story goes, he answers. Fires in that valley are neither invented nor historical: it burns regularly, and the legend does what local folklore usually does — turns a recurring real danger into a figure with a name.
The Green Man of Pennsylvania
The legend of a glowing green faceless man you can meet at night by an abandoned tunnel outside Pittsburgh. There is a real person behind it: Raymond Robinson, who at nine was catastrophically burned by an electric line on a trolley bridge and lost his face and an arm. He lived until 1985 and walked at night so as not to frighten people — while teenagers drove out specifically to find him. The order of events is worth keeping in mind: first there was a man who was unlucky, and only then the ghost story.
Cropsey
A children's bogeyman with a hook, told on Staten Island for generations — until children began disappearing in the neighbourhood in the 1980s and it emerged that a former orderly from the abandoned Willowbrook school was living beside it. Willowbrook was a real institution, closed after a 1972 investigation exposed appalling conditions. A rare and unpleasant case of a local bogeyman and a documented local history meeting at the same point on the map.
The Goatman of Maryland
A half-goat, half-man with an axe, told of in Prince George's County outside Washington. The legend took shape in 1971, when a local paper ran a piece about a missing dog and rumours of a creature near Fletchertown Road; the article was picked up, and within a couple of years the story had acquired an escaped experiment from the agricultural research centre next door. The centre is real and still operating, which has helped the legend considerably — it has a building you can point at.
The Melon Heads
Creatures with disproportionately large heads living in the woods — a legend told in three American states at once, Ohio, Michigan and Connecticut, each with its own backstory. The Ohio version is the most widespread: supposedly children from a closed institution for hydrocephalus patients who escaped after a fire. No such institution and no such fire appear in the records. What is interesting is the rest: three unconnected regions invented almost the same image, and in all three it explains the same thing — that there is someone in the woods who was once hidden there.
The Mad Gasser of Mattoon
In September 1944 residents of Mattoon, Illinois, began reporting the same thing to police: a sweetish smell in the house, nausea, numbness in the legs, a paralysing weakness. Around two dozen cases were logged in a fortnight. Police, the FBI and chemists found no substance, no traces and no man. The standard explanation is a wartime episode of mass psychogenic illness amplified by the local paper; the alternative points at emissions from a nearby plant. Neither is proven, and the case is a textbook fixture in social psychology.
The Black-Eyed Children
In 1996 the Texas journalist Brian Bethel posted an account to an internet mailing list about two teenagers who knocked on his car window in an Abilene car park. They asked for a lift, spoke too smoothly, and kept insisting they would not get in without being invited. When he looked up, both had completely black eyes. That one text created a genre: black-eyed children have been reported across the English-speaking world ever since, and nearly every version keeps the detail about the invitation — borrowed straight from vampire folklore.
The Brown Mountain Lights
Glows seen since the nineteenth century over a low ridge in North Carolina: they appear above the crest, rise, go out and appear again. The US Geological Survey studied them twice, in 1913 and 1922, and both times concluded they were reflections of train and settlement lights. The difficulty is that the earliest accounts date from before there was a railway or a settlement there. The ridge is accessible, there are marked viewing areas, and the lights are still being filmed.
The Hornet Spook Light
A ball of light the size of a basketball, seen for more than a century over a straight stretch of dirt road on the Missouri–Oklahoma line. It approaches, retreats, changes colour and is said to react to people. The US Army Corps of Engineers investigated in the 1940s and reached no conclusion. The most convincing explanation is atmospheric refraction of headlights from Route 66 a few miles off — but local memory of the light predates cars in the county.
The Kelly–Hopkinsville goblins
On the night of 21 August 1955 the Sutton family, from a farm outside Kelly, Kentucky, ran into the police station at Hopkinsville and said they had spent hours shooting at short creatures with large ears and glowing eyes that came up to the windows and did not fall when hit. Police went out to the farm, found shot-out windows and screens, and no trace of the creatures. There were eleven witnesses including children, there was no drink in the house, and the family had nothing to gain — they turned down money for interviews. The case remains one of the most argued-over in American ufology.
Mercy Brown, the Exeter vampire
In 1892 the Brown family of Exeter, Rhode Island, was losing one member after another to tuberculosis. Neighbours convinced the father that one of the dead was feeding on the living, and in March the bodies were exhumed. Two had decomposed; nineteen-year-old Mercy, who had spent the winter in a cold crypt, had not. Her heart was burned, the ashes mixed with water and given to her dying brother to drink. He died two months later. The case is the last and best-documented episode of the New England vampire panic — an attempt to explain an epidemic for which people had no other language.
Resurrection Mary
America's best-known vanishing hitchhiker. Since the 1930s drivers on Archer Avenue outside Chicago have told the same story: a fair-haired girl in a white ball gown asks for a lift, says nothing the whole way, and disappears from the car opposite the gates of Resurrection Cemetery. Attempts have been made to attach the story to several real girls who died young, and none of the versions fits the details. The vanishing-passenger plot is older than the motor car — it is known from tales of horse-drawn carriages — but the Chicago version is fixed to one road and one gate.
Bunny Man Bridge
A single-track railway underpass in Fairfax County, Virginia, known locally as Bunny Man Bridge. The legend puts a man in a rabbit suit with an axe here. There is a real basis and it is a modest one: in October 1970 county police logged two reports of a man in a white suit with rabbit ears who swung an axe at people near their cars and broke a window in a house under construction. He was never found. In half a century two police reports have grown into hanged children, an escaped asylum patient and a compulsory visit to the bridge on Halloween night.
Ted the Caver
One of the earliest examples of the form, and possibly the first that really worked. In 2001 a diary appeared on the free host Angelfire: a man and a friend clearing a narrow side passage in a cave. The entries are matter-of-fact, with photographs and measurements, page after page; the tone shifts slowly over several weeks, and the disaster arrives well after the reader has stopped expecting one. It works because until the very end it does not look like a story — it looks like somebody's abandoned website.
Candle Cove
Kris Straub's 2009 story, written entirely as a forum thread: several people reminisce about a children's puppet show a local station ran in the late sixties. The memories agree on the details, then get worse, and in the last post one participant's mother says there was no programme — the television showed static in those hours, and the child sat watching it. The form matters more than the plot: the text does not pretend to be a story, it pretends to be somebody else's conversation.
Slender Man
Invented in June 2009 by Eric Knudsen, posting as Victor Surge, for a photo-manipulation contest on the Something Awful forums: two black-and-white photographs of children with a tall thin figure in a suit added to them, and a couple of lines of caption attributed to witnesses who did not exist. The brief was to make an image look paranormal. Three years later Slender Man was living on his own — hundreds of stories, games and web series the author had nothing to do with. One of the first cases of internet folklore outgrowing any source it came from. The legend has no geography of its own: the pin sits in Pleasant Hill, Missouri, where the forum itself was run from.
Polybius: the arcade cabinet that never was
The story says that in 1981 a cabinet called Polybius appeared in the arcades of Portland, Oregon: no manufacturer's name on it, no usual queue — only children who afterwards suffered insomnia, seizures and gaps in their memory, and men in black who came to take readings off the machine. Not one photograph, not one board and not one document exists. The earliest written trace dates not from 1981 but from 2000, a post on an arcade collectors' site written almost twenty years after the "events".
The Backrooms: where the photograph was actually taken
The internet's most famous nowhere turned out to be the second floor of a furniture shop in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. The photograph of a yellow corridor under humming strip lights was posted to 4chan on 12 May 2019 in answer to a request for images that felt "a bit off", and the caption underneath it grew into thousands of stories, games and videos about endless empty rooms you fall into by taking a wrong turn. In 2024 internet researchers traced the picture to its source: a 2003 photograph of renovation work on the upper floor of the former Rohner's furniture store, taken for a local hobby shop's website. The building is still standing at 807 Oregon Street, and there is a model shop in it today.
El Yunque
The only tropical rainforest in the United States national forest system, covering the mountains of eastern Puerto Rico. Local accounts have the chupacabra coming down from here to the farms, and place a secret laboratory somewhere in it from which the thing escaped. The forest needs no legend to impress: a hundred and twenty inches of rain a year, permanent cloud, and the sound of coquí frogs, heard everywhere and almost never seen.
Moca, Where the Chupacabra Began
In March 1995 farmers in this Puerto Rican town began finding sheep and goats dead, drained of blood, with two neat punctures in the neck. Within months the count ran into hundreds across the island. Witnesses described a creature the height of a man, moving in bounds, with spines along its back and huge black eyes. A Puerto Rican journalist coined the name — goat-sucker — and in thirty years the chupacabra has spread from Mexico to Chile.
Coral Castle
A structure in Florida that the Latvian Edward Leedskalnin built alone over twenty-eight years from limestone blocks weighing up to thirty tons. He worked only at night and stopped if anyone approached. Asked how, he said he had worked out the secret of the pyramid builders. He died in 1951 leaving no drawings and no explanation; an engineering answer is likely and dull, and there is nobody left to test it on.
America's Stonehenge
A cluster of stone chambers, walls and slabs on a New Hampshire hill whose purpose has been argued for a century. Some read it as a pre-Columbian observatory aligned to the solstices, others as colonial farm structures and a nineteenth-century soap works. The central slab with a channel cut round its edge is known as the sacrificial table; it could equally be a lye press. The site works as an attraction and as an argument that does not resolve.
Cahokia
The largest pre-Columbian city north of Mexico: at its height around 1100 it held perhaps twenty thousand people, more than London at the time. Monks Mound has a larger base than the Great Pyramid. Mound 72 contained a burial with over fifty young women laid out in rows, almost certainly sacrificed. By 1350 the city was empty, for no clear reason, and it has never been explained.
Alcatraz
The island prison in San Francisco Bay, in use from 1934 to 1963 for men other prisons could not hold. D Block has its own reputation — the isolation cells known as the hole, where prisoners were kept in complete darkness; most of the guards' accounts of screaming come from there, and from cell 14D, where a man is said to have died in a night after shouting that something was in there with him. The bay tribes considered the island a place of bad spirits long before the prison.
The Queen Mary
An ocean liner moored at Long Beach since 1967. Some forty-nine deaths occurred aboard during her thirty-one years of service, including an eighteen-year-old crewman crushed by watertight door 13. In the war she carried troops and once, on a manoeuvre, cut her escort cruiser in half, drowning over three hundred men; stopping to rescue them was forbidden because of submarines. Stateroom B340 is let separately and has a reputation of its own.
The Crescent Hotel
An Arkansas hotel bought in 1937 by Norman Baker, a man with no medical training who announced he had a cure for cancer and turned the building into a "hospital". People came here to die, at considerable expense; Baker eventually went to prison for mail fraud. In 2019 excavation on the grounds turned up buried jars of human remains. The hotel is still open and sells ghost tours.
The Bell Witch Cave
From 1817 to 1821 the family of John Bell in Tennessee was, by many contemporary accounts, tormented by something: pinches and slaps, bedclothes pulled away, and eventually a voice that argued, quoted sermons and finally promised to kill the head of the household. Bell died in 1820 with a vial of unidentified liquid found beside him. Local tradition holds it the only case in American history of a documented killing by a spirit.
Amityville
In November 1974 Ronald DeFeo Jr shot six members of his family in the house on Ocean Avenue. Thirteen months later the Lutz family moved in and left after twenty-eight days, describing green slime from the walls, a swarm of flies in winter, and a voice telling them to get out. A book and the films made the address a byword; later occupants reported nothing, and one of DeFeo's lawyers eventually said the story had been invented over a bottle of wine.
The Lizzie Borden House
The house in Fall River, Massachusetts where Andrew and Abby Borden were killed with an axe on 4 August 1892. Their daughter Lizzie was tried and acquitted, though public opinion never acquitted her, and the rhyme about forty whacks outlived everyone involved. The house is a museum and guesthouse now, and visitors can book the room where the stepmother's body was found.
The Villisca Axe Murder House
On the night of 10 June 1912 eight people were killed with an axe in this Iowa house: Josiah and Sarah Moore, their four children, and two visiting girls. The killer was never found and the case remains open. The house has been restored to its 1912 condition — no electricity, no plumbing — and can be booked for overnight stays. Those who stay most often report children's voices and objects falling.
The Moundsville Penitentiary
A Gothic prison in use from 1876 to 1995, once listed among the ten most violent correctional facilities in the United States. Ninety-four men were executed here and some thirty-six more died in prison violence, including a riot in 1986. The Sugar Shack basement and the dark isolation cells have their own reputation. The building stands across the road from an Adena burial mound, which added another layer to the story.
The Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum
One of the largest hand-cut stone buildings in North America, built in West Virginia for two hundred and fifty patients. By the 1950s it held around two and a half thousand, in unheated wards, under a lobotomy programme applied here unusually widely. The hospital closed in 1994. Night tours run through it now, and most of the accounts concern the fourth floor, where the most severe cases were kept.
Waverly Hills Sanatorium
A tuberculosis hospital in Kentucky, in use from 1910 to 1961. The dead were removed through an underground tunnel some five hundred metres long so that living patients would not see them — it became known as the body chute. Estimates of the death toll differ wildly, from around fifteen hundred in the records to sixty-three thousand in legend. The building has stood empty since 1982 and is among the best-known haunted sites in the United States.
The St. Augustine Lighthouse
A Florida lighthouse where, during construction in 1873, the contractor's two daughters and another girl were killed: the handcart they were riding on the rails to the water ran into the bay. Keepers and visitors have reported children's laughter in the tower and a girl in a blue dress ever since. The place is well enough known that television crews come regularly, and the lighthouse staff keep a log of incidents of their own.
Salem
In 1692 nineteen people were hanged here for witchcraft, one was pressed to death under stones, and several more died in gaol. It began with the fits of two girls and evidence the court accepted without proof — including "spectral" testimony, meaning a claim that the accused's spirit had appeared to a witness. Salem lives on the story openly now: museums, a memorial on the execution ground, and a reputation that fills the town every October.
The Gettysburg Battlefield
In three days of July 1863 some fifty thousand men were killed, wounded or lost here — the bloodiest battle in American history. Burials were hasty and many of the dead were never identified. Gettysburg has been called the most haunted ground in the country since; the accounts cluster at Devil's Den and the Rose Farm, where people report hearing orders shouted at night and seeing uniformed figures walking where the lines once stood.
Lake Pontchartrain, at the Gates of Voodoo
The vast brackish estuary beside New Orleans, on whose shores voodoo rites were held through the nineteenth century — most famously Marie Laveau's St John's Eve gatherings at Bayou St John. Traces of offerings still turn up at night: candles, coins, bones. A causeway nearly twenty-four miles long crosses the lake, and from its middle no shore is visible at all — a sensation locals count as its own reason not to drive it in fog.
The Bennington Triangle
Between 1945 and 1950 five people vanished without trace in the woods below Glastenbury Mountain: an experienced guide, a college student, a war veteran, an eight-year-old boy, and a woman travelling by bus. Only one body was ever found, seven months later, on ground that had already been searched. Tradition holds that the local tribes considered the mountain cursed and used it only for burial. The town of Glastenbury itself was formally unincorporated in 1937 for want of residents.
The Bridgewater Triangle
A two-hundred-square-mile patch south of Boston, centred on Hockomock Swamp — Wampanoag for "the place where spirits dwell". Every sort of story collects here at once: lights in the sky, Bigfoot sightings, giant birds, ritually killed livestock, disappearances. The cryptozoologist Loren Coleman gathered them under one name in the 1970s, and the triangle has lived as a single anomaly since, though nothing but geography connects the stories.
The Sedona Vortexes
A town among the red rocks of Arizona that people have come to since the 1980s for its "vortexes" — points where visitors hold that the earth's energy surfaces, felt as tingling, dizziness or unusual clarity. Instruments find no magnetic or electrical anomaly at any of them. Sedona lives on it regardless: thousands come each year for the sensation, and most say they got it.
The Superstition Mountains
The range east of Phoenix, wrapped around the legend of the Lost Dutchman's Mine — a gold vein the German Jacob Waltz supposedly found in the 1870s and took to his grave. Dozens of searchers have died or vanished here since, several found beheaded. The Apache hold these mountains to be an entrance to the underworld and warned against disturbing them, a warning gold hunters have traditionally ignored.
The Taos Hum
Since the early 1990s a fraction of this town's residents have heard a low steady hum that the rest cannot hear at all. In 1993, under pressure from complaints, Congress commissioned a study by Sandia and Los Alamos; instruments in the homes of hearers recorded nothing matching the descriptions. The hum is described as a distant diesel engine, it keeps people from sleeping, and there is no shutting it out — earplugs do not help.
The Devil's Tramping Ground
A circle some forty feet across in the woods of North Carolina where almost nothing grows. Local tradition has the devil pacing it at night while he considers how to ruin mankind, wearing the ground bare. Objects left inside overnight are said to be found outside it by morning. Soil analysis found a high salt content, probably natural — but the story is easier to test than to believe, and people still camp here to try.
The Marfa Lights
East of this west Texas town, lights have been watched since 1883: basketball-sized spheres that hang over the desert, split, merge and go out. The cowboy Robert Ellison recorded the first, taking them for Apache campfires. University physicists showed in 2004 that a good share of them are headlights on Highway 67 refracted through layers of warm air. A share — but not all, and it cannot account for the sightings that predate cars.
Roswell
On 8 July 1947 the army airfield at Roswell issued a press release saying it had recovered a "flying disc". Hours later the statement was withdrawn and the debris called a weather balloon. It would have been forgotten if participants had not started telling it differently in the late 1970s; by the 1990s Roswell was shorthand for cover-up. In 1994 the Air Force admitted the balloon was not meteorological but part of Project Mogul, listening for Soviet nuclear tests — a truth forty-seven years late, which by then convinced nobody.
Lake Iliamna and Its Monsters
Alaska's largest lake, where bush pilots have reported dark bodies over thirty feet long moving below the surface since the 1940s. The Dena'ina knew of them long before and warned against going onto the water alone. Unlike most lake monsters this one has a plausible explanation — belugas or giant sturgeon coming up from the sea — but no specimen has ever been landed.
Whitehall, the Official Home of Bigfoot
In August 1976 several teenagers and two police officers independently described a figure over seven feet tall near this town on the Vermont line: covered in hair, red-eyed, and making a cry one officer called "a woman screaming mixed with a pig". The town council later passed an ordinance forbidding harm to Bigfoot within the town limits — legally pointless, and a fair measure of how seriously it is taken here.
Louisiana, Missouri: the Summer of Momo
In the summer of 1972 this town on the Mississippi went through a genuine panic: children said they saw a black hairy figure over six feet tall at the edge of the woods holding a dead dog, and the stench was such that one of their mothers smelled it from indoors. Enough reports came in within a week that the sheriff organised search parties, and the papers named the thing Momo, for Missouri Monster.
Loveland and the Frogman
The Loveland Frog is a bipedal amphibious or reptilian creature with webbed digits, inhabiting the area around the city of Loveland, Ohio. It first appeared at 3:30 a.m. in May 1955. A businessman was driving along a rural road near the Little Miami River in Clermont County, close to Loveland, when he spotted three bipedal, wrinkled creatures under a bridge. They had webbed hands and feet, as well as no teeth. One of the frogs held up a stick that emitted sparks and gave off the scent of alfalfa and almonds. On August 25 of that same year, Mrs. Darwin Johnson and Mrs. Chris Lamble were swimming in the Ohio River near Evansville, Indiana. Suddenly, Darwin Johnson began drowning and struggling for breath after a scaly hand grabbed her underwater and pulled her toward the bottom. When Chris Lamble swam closer, the mysterious attacker retreated, allowing Darwin Johnson to escape. Since the Ohio River flows through Pennsylvania, Ohio, West Virginia, Kentucky, and Illinois, it stands to reason that the frogs could reach any of these states. In March 1972, police officer Ray Shockey was driving along East Kemper Road when he noticed a four-foot-tall, bipedal, leathery creature with a head and face like a frog or lizard. The creature leaped over the railroad tracks and apparently jumped into the Little Miami River. Scratches were found on the guardrails, though this is hardly proof of the Loveland Frog's existence, as a human would have left identical marks. Two weeks later, Officer Mark Matthews saw a similar frog on the road—four feet long, not counting its tail (which, notably, none of the other reported frogs had). The tailed body was lying on the road as if lifeless, but then stood up, crouched, and moved toward the guardrail. The officer fired a shot, but rather than killing the four-foot amphibian, he merely frightened it away. In 2016, Sam Jacobs was playing Pokémon GO behind the Beth Adam synagogue on Loveland-Madeira Road when he saw a large frog in the nearby river. Jacobs stated he wasn't sure if it was a frogman or just an extraordinarily large frog, but it walked out of the water on its hind legs. He added that he understood how crazy it sounded, but swore to its truth on his grandmother's grave.
Honey Island Swamp and Its Monster
Standing over 7.5 feet tall and weighing between 400-500+ pounds, the Honey Island Swamp Monster — also known as the Louisiana Wookie — is said to be covered in a thick coat of matted gray or brown hair and swamp weed. Its yellow eyes are seemingly reptilian, and the smell it emits has been called the stench of death. This primitive creature has long been blamed for the deaths of livestock and the mysterious disappearances of children in adjacent areas. Popular lore in the region is that the Honey Island Swamp Monster might be the horrifying product of a union between a chimpanzee and an alligator. And in the darkly primordial swamplands that must look much the same now as they did thousands of years ago, the existence of almost any creature seems possible — no matter how ominous. One of the strangest legends surrounding the Honey Island Swamp Monster revolves around a train wreck which allegedly occurred near the Pearl River in the early part of the 20th century. According to this legend, the train was full of exotic animals from a traveling circus, which fled into the swamps after the train derailed. While most of the creatures would soon perish in the harsh swamp land, the legend goes on to tell us that a troop of chimpanzees managed to survive and even went as far as to interbreed with alligators. The result was a strange colony of reptilian like mammals. However, this is impossible, because monkeys and alligators cannot interbreed. The Honey Island Swamp Monster is alleged to have a foul stench like other cryptids specifically in the Hairy Hominids category (Bigfoot, Skunk ape, Missouri monster, etc.), possibly due to the marsh's natural smell.
Lake Worth and the Goatman
In the summer of 1969 several groups by the lake outside Fort Worth said, in one night, that a white hairy creature covered in scales jumped from a bluff onto their cars and threw a car tyre some fifty feet. The Fort Worth Star-Telegram put it on the front page and hundreds arrived at the lake with guns. Some of the reports were later traced to a student prank. Not all of them were.
Lake Champlain and Champ
The lake between Vermont, New York and Quebec, where a creature called Champ has appeared in accounts since the nineteenth century and, by tradition, since Iroquois times. The best-known evidence is Sandra Mansi's 1977 photograph — a dark curved neck above the water — which experts could neither confirm nor call a fake. Both states have formally forbidden harming Champ, a rare case of a cryptid making it into law.
The Pine Barrens and the Jersey Devil
A million and a half acres of pine on sand, where a three-hundred-year-old legend of Mother Leeds's thirteenth child persists. In 1735, the story goes, she said in temper that the child could be the devil — and the newborn turned into a winged thing with hooves and a horse's head, went up the chimney, and has been here since. In January 1909 it was reported across the state for a solid week; schools closed, and tracks were found in the snow on rooftops.
Bray Road and the Wisconsin Werewolf
On a country road outside Elkhorn, drivers have reported the same thing since the late 1980s: a large creature covered in fur, standing or running on two legs, with a dog-like muzzle. A local paper gathered the accounts in 1991 and the Beast of Bray Road went national. What sets it apart from the usual Bigfoot story is the face — witnesses insist on a wolf's, not an ape's, and hold to it under ridicule.
Bluff Creek, Where the Patterson Film Was Shot
On 20 October 1967 Roger Patterson and Bob Gimlin shot fifty-nine seconds of film here, showing a large hairy figure walking across a gravel bar and glancing back over its shoulder. That frame is the most recognised image of Bigfoot ever made, and the argument over it has not settled in half a century: some analyse the gait as impossible for a person, others look for the seams of a suit. The place itself is an ordinary creek in the remote forests of northern California, and people still come with cameras.
Fouke and the Boggy Creek Monster
In the area of Fouke, Arkansas in Miller County, southeast of Texarkana, allegedly lives the Boggy Creek Monster. In these sparsely populated, forested hills of the Ozarks, the Boggy Creek Monster, also referred to as the Fouke Monster, has been a legend of the area since the 1840s. This Bigfoot-like creature is said to be about seven feet tall, walks upright, has a smelly, animal-like odor, and is covered with hair. The Arkansas version of Sasquatch or Bigfoot, this hairy beast has a reputation for killing chickens, livestock, and dogs in the area, though has never been known to harm humans. In the late 1860s, the beast allegedly harassed two families living outside Fouke and the legend quickly spread. In 1973, the tale of the Boggy Creek Monster was made into an extremely poor low budget movie called The Legend of Boggy Creek. In 1997, there were more than 40 sightings of the Boggy Creek creature and in 1998, reports said that the hairy beast was seen walking along a dry creek bed about five miles south of town. Whether a legend or reality, the town of Fouke once capitalized on the legend, with signs throughout the town and a gift shop near Boggy Creek that provided Monster souvenirs. Today, Monster Mart continues to cater to tourists with souvenirs. We really had to search for the creek, which we finally found south of town, marked only by a small plaque on the bridge. Boggy Creek Bridge, Arkansas Boggy Creek Bridge, Arkansas, by Kathy Alexander. The Fouke Monster was allegedly last seen near the junction of the Sulphur and Red Rivers.
Flatwoods and the Braxton County Monster
On 12 September 1952 three boys watched something bright come down on the hill behind the Fisher farm. Going up with one boy's mother and a few neighbours, the group made out a figure some ten feet tall in a torchbeam: a dark pleated body like a skirt, and a red face shaped like the ace of spades, lit from within. It smelled, they said, of metal and burning, and half the party was vomiting by morning. The Air Force put it down to a meteor and an owl. The locals never did.
Point Pleasant, Home of the Mothman
Between November 1966 and December 1967, people in this town at the confluence of the Ohio and Kanawha reported a winged figure some two metres tall with glowing red eyes — dozens of sightings. The first came from two couples driving past a disused explosives plant at night: the thing, they said, kept pace with their car at a hundred miles an hour. The reports stopped on 15 December 1967, when the Silver Bridge collapsed and forty-six people died — a coincidence that tied the Mothman to premonition for good. A steel statue of it stands downtown.
Mount Shasta
A volcano in northern California surrounded by perhaps the densest tangle of esoteric legend in America — from Telos, an underground Lemurian city, to reports of glowing objects above the summit.
Devils Tower
A 260-metre column of solidified magma in Wyoming, the first US national monument. In Lakota and Kiowa tradition its grooves are the claw marks of a giant bear; on film it is known from Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
The Stanley Hotel
A hotel in the Colorado Rockies where Stephen King spent a night in room 217 and conceived The Shining. Staff and guests have reported piano notes and children's footsteps in empty corridors for decades.
The Myrtles Plantation
A Louisiana estate billed as one of America's most haunted houses. Its best-known story is of an enslaved woman, Chloe, in a green turban — undocumented, but persistent for well over a century.
Racetrack Playa
A dry lakebed in Death Valley where stones move by themselves, leaving long trails behind them. The puzzle was only solved in 2014: thin sheets of ice push the rocks along under a light wind.
Oregon Vortex
A hillside in Oregon with a tilted cabin where balls appear to roll uphill and a person's height seems to change from spot to spot. A classic "mystery house" — the effect comes from sloped planes and a missing true horizon.
Area 51
A closed US Air Force range in the Nevada desert that officially did not exist for decades. Secret aircraft testing and total secrecy made it the centre of global UFO mythology.
Eastern State Penitentiary
A Philadelphia prison that pioneered total solitary confinement in the 19th century. Closed in 1971 and left in ruins, its vaulted cellblocks are counted among the most reputedly haunted places in the United States.
Centralia
A Pennsylvania town with a coal seam burning beneath it since 1962. Residents were relocated, the roads cracked open, and smoke has risen from the fissures for decades — the fire could burn for centuries more.
Bodie
A California gold-rush town that peaked near 10,000 residents and emptied by the early 20th century. It is kept in a state of "arrested decay" — houses still hold the belongings their owners walked away from.
Skinwalker Ranch
A ranch in Utah known for decades of reported UFO sightings, unexplained phenomena, and mysterious livestock deaths. Named after the skin-walker of Navajo folklore.
Winchester Mystery House
A sprawling Victorian mansion in California, continuously expanded for decades on the belief — held by its owner, Sarah Winchester — that construction kept the spirits of those killed by Winchester rifles at bay. Staircases lead to ceilings; doors open onto walls.