released September 5, 2023

1. Mission San Juan Capistrano

Predictably, the official guide to the Mission San Juan Capistrano given out at the entrance turnstile concentrates on the history of founder Father Junipero Serra and the history of the Spanish colonization of California. The mission was founded by Serra on November 1, 1776, and soon became one of busiest in the territory. As was the case just about everywhere the Spanish set down roots, the native population was forced to work for the greater glory of God, the Royal Crown, and the free labor they provided. The Indians were actually locked up in the buildings at night.

The big deal at Capistrano are, of course, the swallows, whose numbers have dwindled recently due to encroaching development and the loss of habitat for the insects that provide their diet. Across the street, the largest gift shop and kitsch emporium in town advertises a “FREE SWALLOW STORY”

just for stopping by. Evidently, no one has pointed out the inadvertent humor, or it’s just too expensive to repaint the sign. The 1939 hit tune “When the Swallows Come Back To Capistrano” was recorded by Glenn Miller, Gene Autry, and the Ink Spots, but no one has thus far been inspired to sing about the ghosts that haunt this upscale area. Indeed, it would seem peculiar if there weren’t any supernatural phenomena in this town steeped in the history of early California.

On the night of December 18, 1812, a catastrophic earthquake effectively leveled the massive chapel, taking the lives of forty worshippers. Even though there are no actors pressed into service to lend the place an authentic air, tourists occasionally report sightings of Franciscan monks walking the adobe colonnades—and disappearing into thin air. Visitors have also heard bells tolling for mass, even though the four massive bells have not been used in years. In addition, ghost hunter extraordinaire Richard Senate reports that a woman in a white dress, looking like she had just come in from the rain that was falling outside, once entered the gift shop, formerly the priest’s quarters. She had jet-black hair and looked “confused and perhaps ill.” When a clerk approached to ask if she needed help, the woman walked straight through a wall. The phantom left no wet footprints.

What’s more––an Indian woman named Magdalena who is said to have died without confessing her sins walks one of the upper stories of the ruined walls, carrying a candle seen on dark nights through one of the windows at the back of the church. The Mission cemetery, on the east side of the complex has witnessed strange lights moving about the tombstones at night, and even a couple instances of spirit voice recordings. The utterings, known as Electronic Voice Phenomena (EVP) can be manifested by anyone with a tape or digital recorder. One said “I’m scared” and “I’m cold,” and another whispered more cryptically, “It’s happening again.”

A few doors south of the Mission is the popular El Adobe De Capistrano restaurant, known for its enchiladas, which were often special-ordered by Richard Nixon during his brooding retreats to the “Western White House” in nearby San Clemente. The building was originally two structures, the oldest built in 1797 as a private home. In 1812, the local courthouse was established next door. After the structures were joined in 1910, the place went through a few different owners who began to notice strange goings-on in the basement of the courthouse, which served as a jail. Restaurant employees are wary of the area, which now serves as a wine cellar. They report feelings of being watched, cold spots (in an already cold basement) and wine bottles falling off racks.
The Los Rios historical district is a short walk west of the Mission, over the railroad tracks. At least three ancient adobes here have recorded even more dramatic activity than the Mission itself. Under a huge and ancient pepper tree next to the Rios Adobe, the ubiquitous woman in white scares passersby with her ethereal visits, sometimes accompanied by an “evil black dog” who apparently spits fire. One legend claims the unnamed woman killed herself with poison on the front porch of a suitor who had spurned her. The Rios family, who still live in the house, have heard footsteps and doors closing late at night—they used to think prowlers were responsible, but learned to know better after a few tense nights.

Dona Polonia Montanez sticks close to her old place next door. She was a popular (if unofficial) spiritual leader in San Juan Capistrano during the late 19th century, and is associated with at least one possible miracle involving a drought-ending deluge. She (or something) manifests as a blue light in her old adobe. Visitors have also heard devout chanting in the two-room home.

n 1778, the Mission cemetery was full, so new ground was cleared nearby. The old and hard-to-find cemetery plays host to a classic La Llorona (Crying Woman) spirit, who wanders the area wailing for her lost children. Almost every area in the southwest originally settled by the Spanish or Mestizos has its own version of this classic haunting, usually employed by Hispanic parents as a cautionary tale to keep kids in line. The cemetery is creepy enough in the daytime and well worth a visit, even though it is gated and locked.

Cemetery directions: From the Interstate 5 South, make a left on Ortega Highway and another left directly into a seemingly dead end road (after the abandoned gas station). The cemetery is on a hill above the 5 Freeway and Ortega Highway.

2. St. Marks Church

During Manhattan’s earliest days, when it was still New Amsterdam, and was dominated by the Dutch, the undisputed father of the colony was Peter Stuyvesant. Stuyvesant spent the last twenty-five years of his life living in what is now the Bowery area of the Lower East Side of Manhattan, presiding over the affairs of the colony as the commander of the Dutch West India Colony, as the area was then known.

Stuyvesant was a stern leader. He had experienced a long career that had taken him around the world, and he had lost much in his previous travels. While in Curacao on military business, he lost a leg. By the time he came to preside over New Amsterdam, he was famous for both his no-nonsense demeanor and his wooden leg, which he kept wrapped in silver studs. Stuyvesant’s impact on what is now the East Village area can still be felt, as buildings, a square, and other sites in the area are named after him.

Perhaps his most important mark on the area is his continuing presence. Stuyvesant helped establish the original church that once stood where St. Mark’s Church now stands, at 10th Street and Second Avenue. Many church attendees, visitors, and staff have reported encountering a strange presence over the years. Most often, distinctive footsteps are heard––including the unmistakable sound of a peg-leg echoing throughout the halls and pews of the historic holy building. People have seen strange movements and shadows within the church’s windows while passing by on the street. The bells at St. Marks have rung at strange times, often accompanying a sighting of the ghost.
People have been reporting sightings of Peter Stuyvesant’s ghost since his death in 1672, easily making his spectre one of the most long enduring phantoms in the history of New York hauntings.

3. Villisca Axe Murder House

The small Iowa town of Villisca is a quiet place with only 1,300 residents, so it’s small wonder that it’s still buzzing with tales of a gruesome incident that happened nearly a century ago. A whole family and two visiting children were murdered in one night. And the murders remain unsolved after all this time. And of course, the house where it happened is abuzz with reports of ghostly activity.

On June 10, 1912, Josiah B. Moore, five members of his family, and two children staying as guests, lay down to bed. They never saw the light of day again. Sometime between midnight and five in the morning, an intruder entered the house, closed the curtains, and bludgeoned all eight in the head with an axe. Men, women, children––the killer was indiscriminate. At some point, he prepared a plate of food for himself, but it remained uneaten. And curiously, he removed a few slabs of bacon from the home’s freezer and placed them on the floor.

In a small town like Villisca in 1912, this was a life-changing event. Residents bought new locks, and new guns. They spread wild rumors about a shirtless man canoeing around in a local river. As a result, hoboes were arrested across all of Iowa and throughout neighboring states. A business competitor of Mr. Moore’s and a local priest were under suspicion, but never charged. A private detective agency investigated a man named William Mansfield so zealously that he sued and won more than $2,000. And the crimes remain unsolved to this day. At this point, the likelihood of the Villisca Axe Murder ever being identified range from extraordinarily slim to none. But the memories of what happened here will never go away. And the spirits of those who were so brutally wronged, it seems, will never rest. In the years since the murders, dozens of people have reported having terrifying experiences there. The house is now a historic sight, and tours and overnight stays are offered, so these haunting reports will most likely continue well into the next century.

A Stay at the Axe Murder House

A few years ago, my girlfriend and I were watching some TV show about haunted places. A certain episode was dedicated to a little town in Iowa called Villisca. This past summer we were roaming online and saw that this same house was also available for overnight stays. A few weeks later there we were there. During the night, we heard a few noises and bumps. One of us felt a little tug, and there were cold spots and hot spots throughout the house. At one point, something unseen pushed a ball across the room. We watched it spin in a complete circle and roll back. Even stranger was when we were packing up to leave the next morning, at about the time the family’s bodies were found. The front door was held shut with an old solid iron. Suddenly, it was as if someone had kicked the door open and in came a big gust of wind. It was quite an experience. I most definitely will do it again.

What Do You Expect in the “Axe Murder” House?

If you look in the windows, you can see some of the people who were murdered. Right after it happened, my boyfriend’s grandparents moved into the house, and were visited nightly by the spirits. They moved out right after this started happening.

4. Blue Limestone Park

Strange stories are told about the picturesque community park in Delaware called Blue Limestone. It borders a rail line that has lent itself to tragedy over the years, or so they say; a 1920s train accident in the vicinity has yet to be confirmed as real, but it's to this that many of the unexplained phenomena in the park are attributed. Strange lights are seen there, especially at night, moving around in patterns much like people. The lost spirits of train wreck victims? Drowning victims from the quarry? No one seems to agree on much besides the fact that Blue Limestone Park is haunted. Following a rough path through the woods and crossing a small stream will bring you to a brick tunnel under the railway. It's here that many of the legends are centered. Enigmatic chunks of concrete and metal are strewn throughout the woods here. Lights are often seen in the darkness beneath the tracks, and disembodied voices are heard. A ghost train even reenacts the fatal wreck of the 1920s.

Blue Limestone's Haunted Tunnel

There are two back quarries, and the area is extremely creepy at night. Inside the tunnel, if you listen hard, it does sound like voices, though that could be a trick of the acoustics. There's some odd things with the tracks, both not carrying the vibration of a coming train and also not carrying heat from the passing. Both could also be from the tunnel being under it. There are parts of the tunnel you can't get to anymore—you used to be able to go to the top of the back side of the tunnel from the sides, but erosion took most of the footholds away. There are a number of concrete pieces hidden in the woods surrounding the tunnel, most of which look like they were part of the tunnel. How they got there I don't know—they're a good thirty to forty yards away in the trees, but they look like the emplacements at the top of the tunnel beside the train tracks.

Chris Phinney - (Mental Anguish) - synthesizers, electronics, fx, final mix
Ced Debear - Cover Art

The Church of Noisy Goat

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