I'm Liz Sauer and this is Ghosts in the Verbs, 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.

I am recording this on the first day of the girls spring break, so I'm just going to

warn you at the jump that this sound quality might not be great, there might be some background

noise.

But anyway, we have been all over the place lately, haven't we?

It's a little familiar, like old old times, only now we have the gift of hindsight and

we know that all that random is never really random.

I have the sneaking suspicion that we're getting close to that part in the movie when

someone rips out a map and draws little dots on the locations of disturbing incidents,

connects them and discovers the epicenter.

Well, unfortunately today's story provides another dot and I cannot stress this enough.

We can't move again, like we really can't, but that's a me problem, I guess.

So be sure to stay tuned after the story for some merch stuff and listening, reading,

and watching recommendations.

For now, we're on to go story number 64.

Earplugs.

I was in the basement recently, folding laundry, while the dogs tore into the girls' toys

and wreaked havoc.

I happened to look down at one point and saw a small black box amid the mess.

...