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Due to the graphic nature of this haunted place, listener discretion is advised this episode includes descriptions of a car accident. We advise extreme caution for children under 13. Marty tried to focus on the road as she drove home from the willowbrook, but her younger sister, Susie, was being so annoying.


At 16, she was only two years younger, but sometimes she seemed like a total child. Like now she was singing some pop song from the radio, pretending her cell phone was a mike and wanted to go out dancing by herself. But her mom had forced her to bring Susie along and like Marnie, expected, it was a disaster. Susie literally spent the entire time doing weird dance moves and asking all Marty's friends how much their shoes cost. Humiliating.


The girls drove down a dark strip of Archer Avenue, lit only by the car's headlights to the right was the resurrection cemetery's massive gate with crosses embedded on its stone pillars. Susie said they'd better hold their breath so they didn't offend the dead. She gulped in some air and held it. Mahne rolled her eyes so it could be annoyingly weird and superstitious. The dead were exactly that dead.


But when she turned to tell Susie this, her little sister said nothing. Instead, she pointed straight ahead and screamed.


A young blonde woman in a white, old fashioned party dress was dancing around in the middle of the road. Marty slammed the brakes, but it was too late. The car plowed forward anyway. Marty, brace yourself for the sickening crunch of a body beneath her tires. But then she didn't feel or hear a thing.


Marty and Susie scrambled out of the car. The road was empty. Susie turned to Marty eyes wide and told her, you should have held your breath. Welcome to Haunted Places, a Spotify original from podcast. I'm Greg Polson. Every Thursday, I take you to the scariest, eeriest, most haunted real places on Earth. You can find all episodes of haunted places and all of Spotify originals from Park asked for free on Spotify or wherever you listen to podcasts and every Tuesday, make sure to check out urban legends.


These special episodes of Haunted Places are available exclusively on Spotify. This week joined me on a supernatural journey to the Resurrection Cemetery, an unsettling graveyard outside Chicago, and discover why to this day it's haunted. Coming up, we'll meet their resurrection cemeteries, most famous resident. This episode is brought to you by Fan Sportsbook, don't just watch college basketball, get in the action and shoot your shot with the fan to a sports book. There's more ways to play the bracket all tournament long.


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Of all the places we associate with coasts, cemeteries are perhaps the most obvious, there are so many souls buried beneath the Earth. It isn't strange to imagine that some of them might get up for a night and wander around their eternal resting place. But the resurrection cemetery in the town of Justice, Illinois, has more bodies than most built in 1904 on Archer Avenue. It's one of the largest cemeteries in North America, situated on a sprawling 400 acres of land.


It holds thousands of crypts and graves. And one of these graves is said to belong to Illinois's most famous ghost, the legend of resurrection. Mary is hotly debated. If you're from Chicago and its surrounding cities, you may have heard more than a few explanations of who Mary is and where she came from. Older residents may say they know someone who knows someone who has seen her. Chicago rap artists sing about Rez Mary and some arguments have gone to fistfights to defend their version of the tale.


One of the most popular theories about Mary's identity is that she was a young woman named Mary McGarvie, according to records found by the Chicago Tribune.


She died in 1934 at age 17 in a car accident. Mary was buried in the Resurrection Cemetery and supposedly the cemetery caretaker at the time believed that the ghost was her. But we don't know that for certain. What we do know is the specter of a young blonde woman in White has haunted the Resurrection Cemetery and nearby Archer Avenue since the 1930s. And regardless of who she was or how she died, one thing is clear. Her death left her very restless indeed.


Mary hovered in the doorway, shyly watching her dancing classmates, she had finally made it to the O'Henry ballroom, but as soon as she set foot in the place, she felt like she didn't belong. She eyed Leila, who twirled about in a stylish Tetris with a cinched waist. Leila's parents didn't mind that their daughter looked beautiful, not like Mary's father, who didn't even know she was there.


Mary's father, Aggy, told her that dancing was sinful and only loose women went out at night. But Mary had dreamt of going to a dance ever since she was a little girl. Every Sunday on the way home from church, she would steal a glance through the O'Henry open door. She'd see dancing women inside their skirts, flying gracefully through the air. Mary often wondered what it would be like to feel and be that weightless. She dreamed about it for years.


So when her high school announced they were holding the prom at the O'Henry, she knew she had to go. Aggy would never allow it. So Mary never attempted to ask. Instead, she waited for him to fall asleep after his nightly beer, then slipped out. And now here she was. But instead of feeling enthralled, she felt out of place. She was wearing her confirmation dress, the nicest thing she owned. Walking up to the ballroom.


She felt so pretty in it with its flowing skirt and neat hem. But now, looking at Leila and the other girls chic dresses, she felt old fashioned.


And Mary turned to the sound of someone clearing their throat to see her classmate Terry standing beside her. He offered her a hand, did not to the dance floor. Mary grew nervous, worried she wouldn't actually know how to dance. She hesitated for a moment, then slipped her hand into his with a bashful smile. Together, they entered the fray and the music and helped her. She moved tentatively at first, softly swaying in rhythm. But soon she moved more easily.


She could feel her body being filled with energy. She felt electric. Her lips moved before her brain could tell them to, for arms fluttered about and her hips moved gracefully. She wasn't timid, prim Mary anymore that Mary was dead and she'd been resurrected as a dancing queen. She laughed in delight. It was like she'd suddenly been freed. Terrie grabbed her hand and spun her around her feet, swept across the floor effortlessly until Terry stopped short. Mary stumbled in.


He was staring at something over her shoulder before she could turn to look, a large rough hand grabbed her by the arm.


It was her father. He glared down at her, his jaw clenched and eyes burning. Mary started to explain, but he didn't give her the chance.


He dragged her from the dance floor and he pulled her from the warm ballroom and out into the cold, Mary shivered. She left her jacket inside, but she worried that saying so would set off on a tirade. He smelled like he had more than one beer. He roughly grabbed her elbow and threw her into the passenger seat of his old truck. Through the window, Mary glanced longingly at the Henries open door. She could hear that song still playing.


She wondered if she'd ever get to finish dancing to it. She wondered if she'd ever get to dance again. Maggie was going to keep her locked up after this that she knew for sure. The car door slammed as Maggie got in. He sat there in silence for a moment, staring out at the windshield. After a long time, he finally spoke. He said that he was sorry he had to be so strict, but rules were in place for a reason.


Her dancing might seem harmless, but it was just the start of a slippery slope. Soon you're running with the wrong crowd. Then you get a reputation and then you're driven away from God. Mary didn't say anything, but her eyes filled with angry tears. She felt so alive when she was dancing like joy was bubbling out of her. Like for the first time in her life, she could move freely. How could something that felt so right be wrong?


Aggy peeled away from the curb and onto Archer Avenue soon Resurrection Cemetery came into view its misty grounds unfurled before its massive iron gates appeared. They sped past it, but Mary stared at the graves, thinking about how she was alive. But she was also like the dead, trapped in a box for eternity. Mary stomaches suddenly twisted in anger. She never spoke back to Acky, but she refused to be like one of those corpses, waiting patiently in their wooden coffins.


She wasn't going to let him stop her from dancing again. She turned to him, her voice cold, and told him that just because his life was joyless didn't mean hers had to be. Aggy gripped the steering wheel tighter. The veins in his neck nearly popped, the truck sped up and Mary's heart sank. She begged him to slow down, but he just gritted his teeth. Neither of them saw the turn. Mary heard Aggy slammed the brakes.


The tires screamed, but the truck was going too fast. She felt the truck tilt to the right and teeter there for a moment. She raised her arms to her face in an effort to protect herself. But the truck shot off the road and drove into the ground.


She flew through the windshield, glass shards stinging at her arms. For a moment, she seemed to hang in the air, back, arched, suspended in freefall.


But then the wind rushed. Pastor cut up face and she plunged down there. He panicked. She tried to move her arms to do something that would break her fall, but her limbs just fluttered about. She had no control over her movements, but strangely, they felt graceful.


Swan like she relaxed slightly at the point. It almost felt like dancing even as her body hit smack against the ground. Some disagree with the assumption that Resurrection Mary is Mary Pragati, for example, Berghof was said to have dark hair while all sightings of the ghost describe a young blonde woman. Others believe that the real resurrection, Mary was a 12 year old girl named and a caucus, according to ghost hunter Ursula Bielski. And his devotion to the Virgin Mary is what gave her the nickname Mary.


She was blond and adored dancing and tragically died in a car accident on her way to the O'Henry ballroom while her father was at the wheel. Her father was reportedly blamed for his daughter's death and died 30 years later after decades of drowning his guilt with alcohol, according to newspaper and cemetery records. However, Antonakis was buried in another local cemetery, not resurrection, and died in 1927, three years before the O'Henry opened. It's unlikely she became the teenage ghost seen by so many young men.


While we know that both Mary Berghofer and an anarchist died in car accidents, we don't know much more about either of their lives. So, as with many of the details about resurrection, Mary, we can only speculate as to what she was like, whoever Mary was. It seems the urge to dance has driven her deceased spirit back to the O'Henry repeatedly since her passing. Maybe it took death to finally make her realize where she felt the most alive.


Coming up, resurrection Mary returns for yet another dance.


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They even leave her a Bloody Mary cocktail at the end of the bar every Sunday. But unsurprisingly, Mary's favourite spot is the O'Henry ballroom in its heyday in the 1930s. It was a massive 1100 person capacity dancing hall at a popular venue for swing bands. The O'Henry was positioned on a secluded spot along Archer Avenue, about three miles from the Resurrection cemetery. But its location didn't deter customers. Young people came from all over to dance before the big bands of the era, and when the O'Henry was renamed the Willowbrook Ballroom in 1959, its popularity didn't dwindle and the new name didn't stop its favourite dancer from returning.


David glanced at his reflection in his rear mirror. He licked his fingers, slicked back his eyebrows and gave himself a wink. It almost didn't matter that he was flying solo. He felt loose tonight. He turned up the radio and shimmied. David was only 25, but all his friends had started spending their Saturday nights in with their gals. Only a year ago they would all row of Archer Avenue on weekends looking for a good time. But now it was just David.


David like to joke that as long as he had two legs and a beating heart, he'd be tearing up the dance floor at the willowbrook.


But the truth was, it felt kind of lonely.


David worked maintenance at the local high school, which didn't really lend itself to meeting people.


And so we had to keep going out if he was going to find someone to spend a quiet Saturday with. It wasn't for the dancing or the music. What he wanted most was a connection. He wanted to find a gal. He could hang up his dancing shoes for. David told himself to stop thinking of that lonely crap.


He certainly wasn't going to get a girl if he walked in all mopey. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror again and relaxed. In spite of it all, he looked fresh. David strode into the willowbrook. His hands tucked into the pockets of his double breasted suit jacket. This jacket was his pride and joy. It had taken a months of saving and he'd gotten it tailored afterword. So it fit just right. It was more than a jacket.


It was proof that he was a cool guy, but he was worthy of someone's attention and he was sure that soon that was exactly what he got. The ballroom was jumpin with more good vibes than he could count. Clusters of girls and couples tore up the floor. The band was wailing. David smiled and brushed off. The melancholy he felt in the car to night would be different. He sashayed into the crowd, putting himself in front of a group of college coeds.


He flashed the Maghrib, but they just nodded and shimmied away. That pang of loneliness dabbed at his stomach again, but it disappeared when he saw. A young blonde woman was hanging out by the bar. She wore an old fashioned white dress with a loose flowing skirt and looked unsure of herself. It seemed like she was deciding if she was going to go for the dance floor or not. David danced over and held out his hand, wondering what a pretty little thing like her was doing here all by herself.


She stared at him in confusion, and he immediately felt like an idiot. The young woman looked longingly at the dance floor and murmured that she'd come to dance.


David grinned that he could help with. He looked around, making sure no other gents were eyeballing his girl. But it seemed like he had her all to himself. So he grabbed her hand and flinched.


Her skin was ice cold. No matter, he'd warm up with a dance. David pulled her onto the floor. The young woman was stiff at first, but the music seemed to embolden her more with each song. Soon the two were laughing and dancing. She even whispered her name in his ear. Mary, her voice was so sweet. The loneliness he felt just hours ago melted away. They gived and swayed to the next few songs as they moved near the edge of the dance floor.


David pulled a pink carnation from a nearby flower arrangement and tucked it behind her ear. Mary beamed up at him and he grinned. He had to admit it was pretty slick.


A slow song came on and he pulled her clothes. Her head rested on his chest, right over his heart. She nuzzled in closer, and he felt his pulse race.


He'd never danced with anyone this long. This was more than a quick boogie. Maybe Mary was the girl he could really get to know. Maybe she'd go out with him again.


An hour later, the band was winding down on the dance floor, grew emptier and emptier. David Pontiffs off asking if he could drive Mary home. He noticed that she looked sadly at the dance floor before she nodded. And when they stepped outside into the balmy summer night David saw she was shivering.


It couldn't have that.


He shrugged off his precious double breasted jacket and draped it over her shoulders with a wink.


And then he led her to his car and gallantly opened the passenger side door. Mary told him that she lived just up Archer. They drove in silence for what felt like an eternity. David took a breath trying to decide how to broach the subject of their next date. He'd suggest a restaurant, maybe a nice dinner she'd be impressed with, or maybe a movie, something that says, hey, you met me dancing, but I'm ready to settle down.


He nervously reached over and turned on the radio to set the mood.


Mary clapped excitedly and swayed to the beat. She loved this song.


She told him she'd never gotten to dance to the end of her arms moved wildly and laughing with joy. David smiled this gal out of sight. He really liked her. A few minutes later, they approached the resurrection cemetery. David hated this part of the drive. It was downright spooky.


There was always mist on the road and those massive gates with their crosses reminded him of death. He suddenly felt anxious. He didn't know if it was because of the cemetery or if he was nervous.


He was wasting away their time together. Just ask her out already. He silently urged himself, so he reached over and shut off the radio.


Mary let out a chilling scream. Startled, David whipped around to look at her. But as soon as he did, she vanished. David slammed on the brakes and stared at the spot where she'd been just moments ago. He looked at the road in front of the car and confusion, wondering if maybe she'd leapt out of the car. But he'd been looking at her when she disappeared. No door had opened, no window. He sat there utterly baffled.


He shook his head, wondering if he'd been someone in his own thoughts. He hadn't noticed she'd left. Maybe she knew what he was about to ask and fled to the gates of the cemetery, hung open a few feet away like a gaping mouth. David shivered when he saw a flash of light with blond hair run past the entrance. He felt his heart sink, so she had ditched him just when he'd been about to go for it. The disappointment was worse than the hurt.


And then he remembered Mary had his favorite jacket he couldn't take to huge losses. In one night, he jumped out of the car.


The cemetery was dark, but the moon lit his way through. The trees above him shifted in a slight breeze like they were whispering. He stared at their quivering leaves. He didn't know why, but they reminded him of Mary. He called for her.


But all I saw was the dark silhouettes of headstones between the trees. Wind swirled the mist through the yard, and when it cleared, he saw Mary. She was standing very still, looking at a grave a short distance away. He yelled her name again, but she didn't move. David hurried over when he was cut off by another wall of fog. He fought his way forward, squinting through the mist. But by the time it dissipated, she was gone again.


He reached the grave she had stood at and stopped the stone, said Mary. He founded the coincidence before noticing a portrait that was etched above the name, it was of a young, unsmiling woman with white hair. She looked exactly like the Mary he just spent the night with, but it was impossible. He'd held her. But even as reason prevailed, sadness overwhelmed him. There was no beautiful girl, no enthralling dance partner.


He'd imagined the whole thing. His loneliness rushed back, hitting him like a tidal wave.


But just as fresh tears blurred his vision, he noticed some purbrick lying on the grass beside the gravestone.


It was his jacket. David blinked back his tears and slowly bent down to pick it up. That's when he noticed that peeking out of the pocket was a pink carnation. Of all the eyewitness accounts of resurrection, Mary, perhaps the most peculiar came from a young man named Jerry Paulus. One evening in 1939, Jerry went to a ballroom and ended up spending the entire evening with a very peculiar dance partner.


According to this tale, he met a mysterious young blond woman in White. After the dance, he drove her home, but she disappeared at the gates of the cemetery. But Jerry wasn't the only young bachelor who claimed to have danced with Mary's ghost. Other witnesses have spoken of finding the sweater they lent Mary draped over her gravestone. Some even claimed that they went to the address she'd given them the next day. And when an older woman answered the door, she explained that Mary was dead.


When Mary's confused date looked into the home, he saw framed photo on the mantle of the very same girl he danced with. Over the years, these stories would multiply. But other details may differ. A few things are always the same. The witnesses share a dance with a mysterious blonde woman in white, only to have her disappear without a trace.


Nobody knows why Mary suddenly vanishes, but maybe that's what makes her legend so intriguing.


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Now back to the story. Sightings of resurrection, Mary, are plentiful. People have reported seeing her standing in the road along Archer Avenue coatless in the middle of winter. Others describe Mary hopping into their cars at stoplights. Some have even seen her dancing beneath a cemetery monument of the resurrected Christ. She was spotted most frequently, however, in the 1930s, giving further credence to the theory that the real Mary was killed around that time. But in the 1970s, her grave was disturbed and resurrection.


Mary was none too pleased. Nance glared out the window of her work trailer, her team was supposed to be directing an excavating machine between a cluster of graves, but instead a radio was blaring while they shimmied around like they were out on the town. Nancy groaned. Then she cracked the trailer window and yelled at them to cut it out. One of the guys rolled his eyes and reluctantly shut off the radio. It was the end of the day, and Nancy had no patience for goofing off.


She managed a tight construction site and for good reason. Rules kept you on schedule so that everyone could go home at a reasonable hour to have dinner with their families or get laid smoke, hash or whatever it was that awaited them after work. Basically, her guys could have fun when they weren't clocked in. Nancy returned to her desk. She used to be out there with the rest of them, but she'd been pushed up the ladder through the years and now she was running her own sights.


It was great and sometimes it meant doing lots of orderly, soothing paperwork. She grabbed her pen. The excavation machine roared outside and naans could hear the crack of a few dilapidated gravestones being abandoned, even though all the bodies had been relocated, it was still a little unsettling to dig up graves. But it wasn't for her to decide stuff like that. She did the job she was paid to do break ground for the cemetery's new chapel. The resurrection cemetery gave her the heebie jeebies with all the literal corpses lying a stone's throw away.


Not to mention it was early winter and the trees had lost their leaves, making their branches look like bony fingers. In this place, skeletons were above the earth and below it. Even more reason to stick to the rules when the sun started to set. She'd like to get the heck out of there.


A loud metallic shriek came from outside. It didn't sound good. Nance grabbed her hard hat and burst out of the trailer, the cold wind hitting her face. The excavating machine was quivering, its long arm refusing to bend. Her guys stood around perplexed. They explained it had stopped midday. Nance swore she'd need a repair person to come take a look at it. And it was all ready for this. Put them back a whole day, maybe more.


The frost was supposed to come tonight and she had no idea if they could even break ground tomorrow. She'd have to tell the city why their timeline just got a whole lot longer. They wouldn't be happy about it. Later that night, Nance huddled over the desk listening to the news on the radio, she sent her team home hours ago, but she needed to finish up the forms for extending the renovation deadline. She was almost done just a few more pages.


Nancy looked up at the sound of knocking out her trailer door.


Maybe one of her guys had forgotten something. She sighed and got up to answer it. A young woman stood on the trailer steps, shivering. She was wearing a conservative white dress with a flowing skirt fit more for summer than the early winter evening. Her blonde hair was stringy and her eyes were bloodshot. Nancy recoiled. One of those harsh smoking hippie, she thought. Nancy asked how she'd gotten in, but the young woman just looked back over her shoulder, frowning at the shards of gravestone around the site.


She said she'd gotten lost. Nance watch. Just the girl shuddered from a gust of wind. Serves it right.


Man's thought it was basically winter and she wasn't wearing a thing. She shook her head and ushered the girl inside. She could warm up while she called her parents or the police. Whatever the rules called for in the scenario, the young woman took a seat in the corner, still shivering. But Nancy saw her reach out a pale hand and fiddle with the radio knob. She'd found some tune from a local oldies station, and her worried face split into a smile.


It sent chills down NASA's. By then, the girl squealed, rose to her feet and sashayed around the room.


She blissfully told Nancy that this was the song God, she loved this song.


There was something very off with this girl, but Nance dismissed it and checked her watch. Fun could happen on this young woman's time, but not on hers. Nance told her to call someone to get her or leave, but the girl didn't give her an answer. She just kept shimmying around the room, lost in the music finance thought the police could deal with it. She grabbed the phone, but a moment later, the young woman placed a hand on her as Nance gasped.


Her hand was freezing. The girl told Nance not to call. She'd just be a minute. She wanted to finish dancing to the song. She never got to finish it.


And now she finally would. Then the girl turned away from dance and twirled around the room. She winked and said that her name was Mary, by the way. Nance felt a flash of annoyance, there were rules and this Mary didn't care about them. She was out alone at night, not properly dressed, wasting Nancy's time.


Nance slammed off the radio and told Mary she was going to call the police if she didn't get out. There were rules here, Nance repeated. Mary stared coldly at her, her smile nowhere to be seen.


She nodded gravely and said that Nance might be right. Breaking rules got you killed. But then Mary whispered quietly that sometimes it was still worth it.


Nazis' Pulse sped up. She didn't like the sound of that.


And then Mary started to sashay and hum the same melody that had just been playing on the radio. At first, Nancy didn't realize Mary was moving toward her, but her dancing sped up and Nancy saw she was closing the gap, her limbs fluttering in an eerie string puppet like movement.


Mary's sighs look desperate as she told Nancy that no one ever let her finish that song and she was sick of it.


Then Mary lunged. Nancy jumped just out of reach and stumbled to the door. She threw it open and shot out of the trailer, racing toward the cemetery gate.


The finger, like trees, loomed overhead as the wind pushed them down around her. It seemed like they wanted to grab her, too, but the gate was just ahead. She had a key.


Nancy grabbed the lock, fumbling to get her key in the slot. Finally, she opened it, slipped through the gap and slammed it shut. But the gate bounced back. Nance felt the metal bar hit her knee and her back slammed into the nearby stone pillars. The bars of the gate pressed into her chest with an unrelenting pressure. It felt like it was going to break her sternum. Gnat's gasped and tried to push back, but she was pinned.


She couldn't comprehend what was holding her there until she saw Mary's pale hands gripping the metal bars and behind them, as if out of thin air, Mary's face appeared.


She wedged between the bars so that her lips were mere inches from NASA's face, Nancy could feel Mary's breath on her cheeks, cold as ice. It felt like needles in her skin. Mary told Nance she'd wish she had more time to ignore the rules, but she'd been in a cage then, just like Nance was. Now dancing helps, Mary whispered. She was sure of it. She told Nance to try it. Nancy trembled, gasping for breath.


Mary gritted her teeth and slowly pried the metal bars apart, which made her terrifying face moved even closer to Nancy's. Nance cried for her to stop to go away, but Mary told Nance she had to dance first. She loomed closer and closer.


The bars pulled apart further and further dance Mary ordered.


And then Mary began to hum that song she'd been singing earlier. Nance shut her eyes tight. Mary was crazy, she thought, but if it helped free her, she'd do anything. Nance couldn't move her chest or her arms, but her legs were pinned. She half popped her hip to Mary's humming. Mary's volume grew and grew, and soon Nance was swaying her hips to her rhythm. Nancies pulse slowed, she kept her eyes shut, trying to concentrate on moving whatever limbs she could to make merry happy, and as she did, she felt her body loosening up just a little.


She tilted her head in time to Mary's melody and managed to flutter her hands to the beat.


Finally, she heard Mary's song slow to its climax and finish altogether. Nancy's body pitched forward suddenly as the gate swung free.


She scrambled to her feet, ready for whatever Mary throughout her next. But she was gone.


In 1976, while riding past the entrance of the Resurrection Cemetery, a driver reportedly saw a woman pulling on the bars of the front gate from the inside. No one was actually found inside the gate, but there were scorch marks in the shape of handprints on its bars and the gate itself was bent. Yet cemetery staff had a simple explanation for this. A 1992 interview with a cemetery worker in the Chicago Tribune firmly stated that a truck had backed into the gates while doing ground work.


It bent the bars and the grounds keepers efforts to restore the gate using a blowtorch left scorch marks on the metal. However, it's been decades since that happened, and according to visitors, there's still a blackened area where the supposed handprints were. Some think that Mary's grave relocation was the biggest reason for the resurgence of her wanderings, it's theorized that her family had buried her in a so-called term plot that expired after a quarter century. Apparently, no one was willing or able to renew it, so she was moved to an unmarked grave.


And so because she could not rest in death, Mary set off looking for the thing that might make her feel most alive. For a young woman who had so much more life to live. It's not unreasonable to believe that perhaps there was more Mary wanted to experience in death. Perhaps she wanders not to victimize those who fear her, but to encourage them to truly live.


So the next time a young stranger asks you to dance, consider their request. You don't know what might happen if you say no or yes. Thanks again for tuning into haunted places. We'll be back on Thursday with a new episode. And don't forget to come back on Tuesday for our Urban Legends series available only on Spotify. You can find more episodes of Haunted Places and all other Spotify originals from podcast for free on Spotify. I'll see you next time.


Haunted Places is a Spotify original from podcast executive producers include Max and Ron Cuddler Sound Design by Kenny Hobbs with production assistance by Ron Shapiro, Carly Madden and Travis Clark. This episode of Haunted Places was written by Kate Murdoch with writing assistants by Alex Garland, fact checking by Claire Cronin and research by Mikki Taylor. I'm Greg Polson.