On a warm day on the southern tip of Tasmania, a blogger named Leone meandered down a path towards the crumbling remains of an abandoned prison.

Her young son held her hand in his, and he kept squeezing it.

Leone could tell he was a little scared, but this was an important piece of history, she told him.

This was Port Arthur. What's that she told him. This was Port Arthur.

What's that then?

Her son asked and pointed out into the distance.

A tiny black dot sat just beyond the coastline.

It was a small island just off the coast from where the prison was,

and the sight of it was enough to elicit a shutter.

Crooked, lichen-colored gravestones poked out of the earth.

Beneath its soil, hundreds of corpses were buried.

It was what was known as the Isle of the Dead.

See, Port Arthur wasn't just some bucolic historic town like Leone had told her son.

It was the site of one of the darkest prisons in Australian history,

and it had once been home to thousands of exiled prisoners.

And today, it was said to be very haunted,

but she didn't want to tell her young son that.

He was already scared enough.

Leone watched as he wandered around beside her, exploring the old buildings,

but something changed in him when they got to one of the houses on the grounds called the

parsonage.

The parsonage was an orange residential home

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