We humans love monsters we can pour our hate into.

Every generation, every culture has a boogie man or two.

Invented to keep teenagers from doing naughty things with each other on lovers' lanes,

or to keep mischievous children in line, or to warn women to stay away from dark alleys.

Usually, these monster stories can be traced back to some seed of a true story.

Perhaps there actually was a man with a hook for a hand who would murder kids in their

cars, or perhaps there was just some unfortunate person who had lost a hand, and people made

him a pariah for it.

Maybe there was some awful clown who hid in children's closets.

Or maybe there's an innocuous explanation for that, too.

The origin stories for these spooky tropes get lost over time, and their legends tend

to outgrow the truth, leaving us to fill in the blanks with our deepest, darkest fears.

Welcome to Strange and unexplained with me, Daisy Egan.

I'm a writer and an actor who believes in the boogie man, but not the kind who hides under

your bed or appears behind you if you say his name too many times in the mirror.

The boogie man I believe in is the harm mere mortals can do to each other out of fear, confusion,

or just plain spite.

This week, we'll go back in time to visit the shapeshifting Victorian-era boogie man that

terrorized citizens from all walks of life in London for upwards of 50 years without

ever taking a single life.

This is the story of Spring Healed Jack.

London, in the 19th century, was a real mixed bag.

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