I'm Liz Sauer and this is Ghosts in the Burbs, a podcast of ghost stories from Wellesley

Massachusetts.

A warning, adults who use adult language told me these frightening tales, these ghost

stories aren't for kids.

The response to Ghosts in the Burbs return has been overwhelmingly positive and supportive.

You all showed up for me and I cannot thank you enough.

Not only did many of you take the time to rate and review the podcast, but so many of you

donated to Patreon, thank you doesn't even begin to express my gratitude.

After the story, do stay tuned to hear a long list of shout outs to all my new patrons.

Now let's just get right into it because I think we're all in need of a good dose of distraction

right now.

And as I said last week, we're headed right back to the beginning.

We're on to Ghost Story, number 50.

Let me just preface this by saying that I never believed in any of this shit.

All those haunted houses that my neighbors told me about.

Do you ever wonder what happened after they cut and run, after they hired a real estate

agent to list the home and a professional interior designer to stage it?

After they lugged all their clutter into a storage locker to present the perspective

buyers with the illusion of minimalist living, after the purchasing sale was signed and the

inspection complete, after the closing.

When their moving truck pulled out of the driveway and the new owners pulled in.

Do you ever wonder how long it took for the newbies to realize the hornet's nest and

...