If you ever visit the Rhinelander Area Chamber of Commerce, located in a small town of the same name in northern Wisconsin, you’ll come across a large fiberglass statue of a monstrous creature sitting out front. With its red eyes, cheshire grin, and raised paw it looks both fearsome and mischievous – like something from Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are. This eye-catching monument exists to make one thing clear: you’re in Hodag Country now. As you explore the town of Rhinelander you’ll notice a common word cropping up when you’re eating at the Hodag Store, bowling at the Hodag Lanes, and shopping at the Hodag Farmers Market. Like many urban legends this creature has become the town’s mascot.
But what exactly is a Hodag? And why is it so woven into the fabric of Rhinelander?
According to local legends, the Hodag is a mythical beast that has “the head of a frog, the grinning face of a giant elephant, thick short legs set off by huge claws, the back of a dinosaur, and a long tail with spears at the end”. It’s believed to be seven feet long and thirty inches tall, and it’s diet consists mainly of turtles, snakes, and white bulldogs. Modern reports of the Hodag have been few and far between, but there was a time when the creature was gaining national attention.
History of the Hodag Legend
Back in the 1800s, Rhinelander was a lumber town. Loggers working the surrounding forests would tell stories of a monster that stalked the woods, which they thought might be the agitated spirit of a dead lumber oxen. In 1893, a timber cruiser named Eugene Shepard released photographic evidence of the creature’s charred remains. He’s said to have gathered up a group of men to capture the beast, but they failed and ended up destroying it with dynamite.
Then, in 1896, Shepard was back claiming he had captured a live Hodag from its cave with the help of several bear wrestlers and a generous amount of chloroform. He debuted the mythical creature in the back of a dark tent during the first Oneida County Fair, where frightened onlookers caught glimpses of it moving about in the shadows. It became such a hit that Shepard began touring county fairs with his sons, promoting the legend and raking in profits. He kept the beast in a shed behind his house, and people would pay to come see it there as well.
Word was beginning to spread and people would come from far and wide to get a look at the Hodag. It wasn’t until a group of scientists from the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. came to visit that Shepard’s claim was unmasked for what it truly was – a hoax! He’d simply fashioned a puppet of sorts with wood, ox hides, and cattle horns that he could move with hidden wires. And yet Shepard had done such a successful job of advertising the legend that people still came to see it, even after it was declared a gimmick.
The Hodag in Modern Times
Not only is the Hodag the official symbol for Rhinelander, but it has become a part of the town’s very livelihood. Various statues and billboards featuring the legend dot the main streets. Pennants bearing its image fly from flagpoles downtown. It’s the mascot of the local high school and the Hodag Country Festival. Souvenir shops, museums, restaurants, and more all carry the Hodag brand.
But does this local legend, beloved by residents and tourists alike, actually exist? Is it just a mascot, or is it something more? There have been occasional reports in recent decades. Golfers claim it is eating their golf balls, anglers state it is stealing the fish straight from their lines, and so on. But whether or not the legend is true, one thing is clear: the Hodag is alive and well in Rhinelander, Wisconsin.
Ben’s love for horror began at a young age when he devoured books like the Goosebumps series and the various scary stories of Alvin Schwartz. Growing up he spent an unholy amount of time binge watching horror films and staying up till the early hours of the morning playing games like Resident Evil and Silent Hill. Since then his love for the genre has only increased, expanding to include all manner of subgenres and mediums. He firmly believes in the power of horror to create an imaginative space for exploring our connection to each other and the universe, but he also appreciates the pure entertainment of B movies and splatterpunk fiction.
Nowadays you can find Ben hustling his skills as a freelance writer and editor. When he’s not building his portfolio or spending time with his wife and two kids, he’s immersing himself in his reading and writing. Though he loves horror in all forms, he has a particular penchant for indie authors and publishers. He is a proud supporter of the horror community and spends much of his free time reviewing and promoting the books/comics you need to be reading right now!
The Old Jail was originally built in 1802 in Charleston, SC and stands to this day in the Downtown area. It reined until 1939 as a prison, poor house, hospital, and workhouse for slaves at its full capacity to serve the town.
Name & Location
The jail has many names through-out history the two that stuck for the hundreds of years it has stood are the Old Charleston Jail and Old Jail for short. Located in the French Quarter part of Downtown Charleston the jail stands tall as a reminder to locals to the history Charleston has endured and recovered from.
Physical Description
The Old City of Charleston, South Carolina is located in the Downtown area. It’s dark and gothic in appearance, standing four stories tall with an octagonal tower. Its moss-covered stone walls tower over the grounds, it has large windows covered with rode iron bars. It has undergone a few remodeling’s in its days, the largest being after the great earthquake of 1886
Origin
The true “first” report to come of ghostly figures haunting the halls is unknown, but since 1886 they have become more recorded. Since the jail’s start, it has been associated with hauntings for spirits and strange occurrences.
Mythology and Lore
It has housed some of the most crazed criminals over the many years including 19th-century pirates, Civil War Prisoners of Wars, and notable inmates through-out Charleston history. It’s believed to be haunted by all types of inmates who died during their incarceration, including many holding the death penalty. Some of the occurrences reported through-out time have ranged from objects simply moving on their own, strange or disembodied voices, ghostly whispers passing through the air, slamming doors, footprints in the dust, the dumbwaiter moving between floors and more. A ghost to appear is a guard on patrol with his rifle in hand, he seems to charge toward guests or workers in the jail hall before vanishing. Many reports their photographs from tours of the jail are haunted by ghostly faces or figures. Lavinia Fisher is one of the more infamous criminals to spend time behind the Old Jail’s walls, credited to be the first female serial killer. She and her husband John were owners of a Charleston inn named the Six Mile Wayfarer House. This hotel had large reports of guests disappearing, being poisoned, stabbed, and the more time went on the ghastly tales got worse. Leading the police to arrest the gang of murderous lovers, the pair waited out their final days at the Old Jail before begin hung in the courtyard and buried in the on-site cemetery. Locals and tourist report seeing Lavinia’s spirit roaming the grounds to this very day, appearing in photographs taken on the second floor of the building.
There is not a shortage of tales and reported encounters coming from the Old Jail, though the spirits credited for them are hard to identify. The Old Charleston Jail held vast numbers of inmates and has countless dead reports to go with it. Many locals enjoy the thrill of roaming its floors and seeking out encounters, as the jail maintains its tours and viewing; just beware you may be touched or grabbed.
Vanishing hitchhikers are one of the most widespread and commonly reported urban legends in the US, a phenomenon which gained notoriety as the title-story in Jan Brunvand’s The Vanishing Hitchhiker: American Urban Legends and their Meanings (1981). Puzzle Box Horror’s Scariest Urban Legends series continue with The Phantom Hitchhiker of Black Horse Lake.
The Vanishing Hitchhiker Legends
There are two primary manifestations of the vanishing hitchhiker legend, the first being particularly famous around Britain and the US. So it goes; Someone is driving home at night when they spot a young girl hitching from the roadside. She sits in the back and, at some point in the journey, mysteriously disappears. Having been given her address, the driver goes there anyway, where he learns that the girl died in a car crash years before. In some renditions of the story the driver then visits the graveyard where she is buried, only to find a jacket hung over her gravestone. In the story’s other depiction, one rarely heard around the UK, the hitchhiker is a male, supernatural being. He tells of some great misfortune or disaster that will befall the earth before disappearing into the night. So the legend says, all of the entity’s predictions come true, leading drivers to believe they witnessed an angel or even Jesus Christ himself.
Hitchhiking at its core is inherently scary for both parties involved; both hitchhiker and driver are at equal risk during the age-old favour and neither usually knows quite who they’re sitting next to, at least at first. This fear has been milked throughout the ages in horror cinema and literature, most notably in the Rutger Hauer road-horror classic, The Hitcher (1986).
Black Horse Lake
Great Falls in Cascade County, a county named for the falls on the Missouri River, is the third-largest city in Montana. Just outside Great Falls sits the seasonal Black Horse Lake, which only sees water during the spring and early summer. If you’re driving down a stretch of road adjacent to the lake, just off highway 87, toward Fort Benton, you might be unlucky enough to encounter a very different kind of phantom hitchhiker.
Phantom Hitchhiker of Black Horse Lake
Reports tell of a tall Native American man with long black hair, inconspicuously hitching a ride. Some claim to spot him in bib overalls, others say he dons a denim jacket and jeans. However, when drivers get close enough to the figure he suddenly appears in front of the car, rolling onto the windscreen with a deathly thud. Many people react in the obvious manner, screeching to a halt and getting out to check the poor fellow is okay. Of course, in true spectral fashion, the man is nowhere to be seen, and the car is always without a scratch. This is both a positive and a negative, as though no physical damage has been dealt, the driver must now continue their lives with no proof to themselves or others that they really witnessed what they think they did. With no proof, the whole ordeal can easily be passed off as a trick of the overactive imagination, though this particular phenomenon has occurred so frequently and with such similarity that it has cemented itself in the annals of international urban legends forever.
Many believe that this is the ghost of a transient Native American who’s nomadic lifestyle was violently interrupted one night by a passing car that struck him. Many renditions of the tale say that the man is forced to relive his last brutal moments on earth in a Palm Springs-esque infinite loop, conjuring an even greater horror to the nightmare.
Joe first knew he wanted to write in year six after plaguing his teacher’s dreams with a harrowing story of World War prisoners and an insidious ‘book of the dead’. Clearly infatuated with horror, and wearing his influences on his sleeve, he dabbled in some smaller pieces before starting work on his condensed sci-fi epic, System Reset in 2013.Once this was published he began work on many smaller horror stories and poems in bid to harness and connect with his own fears and passions and build on his craft. Joe is obsessed with atmosphere and aesthetic, big concepts and even bigger senses of scale, feeding on cosmic horror of the deep sea and vastness of space and the emotions these can invoke. His main fixes within the dark arts include horror films, extreme metal music and the bleakest of poetry and science fiction literature. He holds a deep respect for plot, creative flow and the context of art, and hopes to forge deeper connections between them around filmmakers dabbling in the dark and macabre.
The Tetromet Chronicles is one of my forthcoming books from Stitched Smile Publications. It is a collection of shorts which center around an evil entity called the Tetromet. The stories were inspired by an urban legend I grew up with. In this article, I am going to share with you the portion of my book which talks about this urban legend and how it has influenced these stories and me as a horror author. I hope you enjoy.
For most writers, myself included, stories begin with one simple idea or moment of inspiration. Then they evolve into a grand universe. My Tetromet stories are no different. I grew up in the small town of Central, Louisiana, which is on the outskirts of Baton Rouge. I am also one of those privileged folks who got to grow up in the best decade ever–the 1980’s. What made this decade so fascinating in the world of horror was the obsession with urban legends and Satanism.
As a kid who was raised in church, I remember this well. I heard people go on and on about the dangers of 80’s rock ‘n roll (Anyone out there remember the documentary Hell’s Bells? No? Okay, never mind). I’m not here to bash church or rock ‘n roll, because both have played positive influences in my life. My point is, the topics of Satanism and Satanic cults were all the buzz in the 80’s.
I can’t help but remember a radio show my mom used to let me and my brother listen to after she picked us up from school. The name of it was “Talk Back” and Bob Larson was the host. He would debate Satanists and cast demons out of people right there on the radio show. I remember one show with clarity. A Satanic cult abducted the daughter of one of its members and planned on sacrificing her to the devil on Halloween. Yes, I know, trope, trope, trope, and more trope.. Since then, Bob has been proved a fake, but as a young kid it sure seemed real to me! I even went and saw him in person when he came to a church in Baton Rouge during the late 80s! I’m not questioning the sincerity or reality of Bob Larson’s faith, I’m just pressing the point about Satanism being the buzzword in the 80’s.. It was in the movies, on the radio, in the music, and talked about in churches and barber shops. Such bombardment couldn’t help but have an influence on my mind as a horror writer.
Now, back to the urban legends…
In Central, there’s a haunted road. It goes by the name Frenchtown and was known for its ferocious curves. Toward the end of the wooded road, it opened up a little, and ahead of you would appear a bridge. This bridge was a once functional railroad trestle. The foreboding, rusty structure would glare down at you, covered in satanic graffiti. Near this bridge was where most of the paranormal activity had been reported. But it’s not just about the bridge. Rumors of a Satanic cult in the woods near the bridge, along with a witch who lived in the last house on the left (yes, Wes Craven would be proud) are the prominent legends which once swirled around this trestle. It was said that if you crossed under the bridge, the cult members would kidnap you and drag you back to their lair. In the forest behind the bridge was where the rituals took place. Some have even reported seeing dead cats hanging from underneath the trestle.
With new construction, and the addition of a BREC park, Frenchtown road has changed somewhat, but still retains its curvy, wood laden scenery. During the height of Satanic rumors, graffiti not only tattooed the bridge, but the road before the bridge. People recall such words as “Go back now” and other symbols from Satanism and witchcraft being spray painted on the road. Having been out there myself in the 80’s, 90’s, and even early 2000’s, I can attest that this part of the legend is true. Town folks also said there used to be “Welcome to the Gates of Hell” spray painted across the side of the bridge. The road was indeed marked, and as you can see from the pictures below, so was the bridge. Over the years, well-meaning people have spray painted over most of the markings in an attempt to exercise the place of its demons. If you go today, you can still catch a glimpse of these symbols when you view the bridge up close.
Check out the pictures I took below:
On this beam you can make out “Portel [SIC] to hell”. “Portel” is written diagonally, and “to hell” vertically.
“Satan”
This is the side of the trestle where it used to read “Welcome to the Gates of Hell” You can still make out he word “OF” to the right and also a faint “H”.
Now, let’s move on to the good stuff, shall we? I want to talk about the types of paranormal phenomenon and strange encounters people have reported happening at the end of Frenchtown Road. My personal favorite is the one about the school bus getting hit by the train which used to run across the bridge when the tracks were operational. Don’t ask me how in the world a school bus got up there–its urban legend so facts and physical improbabilities don’t matter! I’m just telling the story. So yeah, a school bus got hit by a train and killed all the kids. If you turn your car lights off under the bridge for a few seconds, then flip them back on, bloody hand prints are supposed to appear on the windshield.
In continuing with the theme of vehicles, the most reported phenomenon was if you turned your vehicle off under the bridge, it wouldn’t start again. One person relayed to me the story of how he and a few of his buddies took some girls out to the bridge one night in the early 90’s. They wanted to give them a good scare, so they told the story about turning off the car engine and it not cranking again. They killed the engine. When the guy tried to start his car, the engine wouldn’t turn! The dudes panicked, in a macho way of course, without letting the girls see the fear in their eyes. After fifteen minutes of unadulterated terror, a bright light appeared in the distance. It was a spotlight, and it was headed toward them at a rapid pace. The angst in their heart escalated as the phenomenon continued. As the light grew closer, they realized it was just a hunter coming to help them. He had heard them trying to start the car.
Another man also told a similar “no start” story. His took place in the late 80’s. Instead of the bridge, he had the nerve to pull his car into the witch’s driveway. After killing the engine, he went to start the car and back out, but the engine wouldn’t crank! Still another person reported their car dying, and then someone coming out of the woods and burying an axe into it. I could go on with multiple accounts similar to these, but you get the idea.
Other reports include people seeing dead chickens hanging in the woods near the bridge, owls flying into windshields, dead cows, upside down crosses with burn marks in the field, stones in the shape of a pentagram under the bridge with burnt animals in them (I witnessed this myself), and car radios flashing 666. I’ve also heard from several people who said they have been chased away by vehicles, a crazy cat lady, and a creepy bald guy in a trench coat.
In my research, I’ve discovered Frenchtown Road has had reports of all types of different phenomenon and urban legends associated with it besides devil worship and cars that won’t start. Below is a detailed list of what I found through conversations, social media posts, and local articles.
People laying on the bridge smoking weed. They hear something banging on the bridge piling below them. They go down to check it out and nothing is there.
A man hung himself from a tree. People have reported seeing his ghost.
Many reports of people hearing chanting coming from the field and woods.
People seeing “watchers” staring at them on either side of the road.
Another legend was about a man who murdered people and dismembered them. The body parts were found buried in the woods at the end of Frenchtown road.
Reports of seeing people involved in casting spells, performing rituals, reading Satanic bibles, and carrying black crosses.
Legend of a little girl who was run over by a train on the railroad trestle. Now, whenever a train comes, you can hear her scream.
One person swears they got pushed into a huge hole that wasn’t there a few minutes earlier.
A group of friends reported that they were all standing in the field, when one of their cars, which was off and locked, started flashing its lights.
Some groups that have gone out there reported hearing the train, the screams of the little girl, and seeing the train lights… but no train would ever come.
Demonic animals have also been spotted. One was said to have yellow eyes, boney, distorted skin, and was growling.
There is a noticeable change in the air when you get close to the track. It cools off (I’ve experienced this one myself).
At the last house on the left, red lights flash in the window.
Lights in the woods have supposedly chased after people.
Dead body found in the water.
One person reported something jumping in the back of a truck. The passengers turned around to look and nothing was there.
Radio goes off when getting to bridge, then comes back on when leaving.
As one can see, there are quite a number of reported eerie happenings. However, the most popular was of a Satanic cult and witch. This is the theme I went with in my Tetromet shorts. If you will bear with me a moment longer, I want to tell you a little bit about the Tetromet series.
First, it’s more than just stories about a Satanic cult at the end of Frenchtown Road. The stories span a time frame of around 200 years, and each one is different. Some are atmospheric, some are gritty, and others are twisted. They are listed in chronological order, but there are major gaps in the storylines of each. Why? Because just about every one of these stories will be developed into a novel, so don’t expect answers right away nor all the pieces to fit. This is not the point of the collection. The point is to introduce you, the reader, to the main characters of the series and the driving story lines. When the books come out, all the dots will be connected, I promise.
I hope you have enjoyed this little piece of history. I can’t wait to get this book in the hands of my readers!
Tritone’s love of horror and mystery began at a young age. Growing up in the 80’s he got to see some of the greatest horror movies play out in the best of venues, the drive-in theater. That’s when his obsession with the genre really began—but it wasn’t just the movies, it was the games, the books, the comics, and the lore behind it all that really ignited his obsession. Tritone is a published author and continues to write and write about horror whenever possible.
If there’s anything we’ve learned from pop culture, it’s that getting caught cheating never ends well. You can end up losing your career, family, inheritance, and – in the case of Skinned Tom – even your life. This urban legend from Walland, Tennessee has it all for the average horror enthusiast: blood, sex, vengeance, and a cautionary tale for young people to not go looking for trouble. But how did Tom go from an attractive ladies man to a terrifying body horror urban legend who has supposedly haunted Lover’s Lane for decades? Here’s what the stories say.
The Legend of Skinned Tom
Decades ago in Walland, Tennessee, a young man named Tom was living the dream. He was handsome, funny, and smart…and the ladies noticed. He slowly began to womanize everybody in town, and yet, as with most playboys, he was never content. He would spend a bit of time with a woman before breaking up with her and moving on to the next, but everything changed when he met a gorgeous woman from the next town over. Some tales of Skinned Tom called her Eleanor. She was basically his dream girl, except for one unfortunate fact: she was already married. Tom didn’t mind, and he got a rush from sneaking around with a married woman trying not to get caught. He even pulled it off for a while, as they would kiss in Tom’s car near Lover’s Lane and do what all secret lovers do. That is, until Eleanor’s husband tracked them down and got the ultimate revenge on Tom for making him a cuckold.
The legends say that Eleanor’s husband dragged Tom out of the car and skinned him alive with a hunting knife at the sight of his smug face. Gory? Yes. Deserved? Debatable. Tom had begged the angry man not to hurt him, swearing that he had no idea that Eleanor was married (a complete lie) and that he would never go near her again. But her husband saw right through Tom’s phony antics and got the ultimate vengeance on the man who had wronged him.
The Legend of Eleanor
As for Eleanor, there are different versions of what happened to her. Some urban legends say that her husband had killed her with the hunting knife right before he skinned Tom, albeit in a much less gruesome way. Others say that he had kept her alive on purpose, forcing her to watch as her lover was brutally murdered and tortured right before her eyes. That’s definitely something that would scar you for life, right? The part of the story that doesn’t change, however, is Tom’s brutal end…and how he now makes it his mission in death to prevent others from making the same mistakes he did in life.
According to many urban legends told around the campfire in Tennessee, the ghost of Tom still hangs out around Lover’s Lane to teach young adults a lesson or two about adultery. He is described as a bloody skeleton who still holds the very same hunting knife that was used to remove the skin from his body, and will scare away anybody who tries to make out in the Tennessee countryside. Cheating is a painful act that hurts everybody involved, a lesson that Tom had to learn the hard way, and you’ll definitely stop smooching a married lady once a bloody, knife-wielding skeleton comes your way.
I am a lifelong pop culture junkie with immense passion for all forms of art and entertainment. On a typical weekend, I can be found at a concert or musical, chasing ghosts on the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland, or watching way too many makeup tutorials on YouTube.
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