Lore Alive 2: In Dreams

Aaron Mahnke (0:05)

Every Friday this October, we're bringing one story from history to life with immersive sound design and talented actors to create an atmosphere that fits the tale. It's the style you know from other shows I've made, like 13 Days of Halloween applied to true tales from history's darkest corners. This is Lore Alive. By the way, this entire Halloween bonus series was made possible by the generous support of Warby Parker, my absolute favorite maker of prescription glasses. I've been a loyal customer of theirs for over a decade, and it means so much to have their support. More on that after the show.

Now, today's story needs a little bit of an introduction and a bit of context. As most of you know, I recently published a book that's about a particular event from New England history. If you've never heard of Mercy Brown, a great introduction to her story would be to listen to the very first episode of Lore. And then, if you want to go deeper, get a copy of my book Exhumed and really revel in the weirdness of that moment. And it turns out that Mercy was the last of more than 80 documented cases that spanned a full century, all bundled up by historians as something we call the New England Vampire Panic. Mercy Brown, by the way, was from Exeter, Rhode Island. And it turns out that the first known instance of these weird vampire exhumations also took place in Exeter, just a century earlier. And that's where the Tillinghast family experienced a very similar outbreak and took equally drastic measures.

In our retelling of Sarah Tillinghast's story today, we take a few liberties with some of the more dramatic moments. But just remember that these were real people living hard lives in a very real world, which makes what they did all the more terrifying. So if you're ready, let's begin.

Amanda Cucher (1:56)

It started with the dream.

The dream. Stukeley's nightmare. That is what started it all, even if it was not his fault.

J. Garrett Mitchell (2:09)

I was in the orchard, but it was different somehow. As if this one corner was... Somehow mine, mine alone, detained and it seemed, it seemed of the utmost importance that these trees in particular remain healthy.

Standing there, I felt an immense love for these trees, as if we were bonded spiritually. They were mine, and I was theirs. And then, the apples on the largest tree began suddenly to wither with horrifying speed, turning black and melting from the branches. A liquid rot that spread across the ground and the great tree itself shed its leaves and died. That rot, that putrid green-black spoilage, it continued to spread reaching the roots of the other trees who one by one began themselves to die from the blood. I threw myself at the roots, tried to dig away the spreading infection with my fingers, and bled and sweat and mud poured down my face, but I could not do it. I could not save them. The bark came off in great sheaths and beneath there was not wood but bone. And all I could do was kneel and weep.

I have never felt so helpless.

Amanda Cucher (4:19)

It is all right. It was a dream.

J. Garrett Mitchell (4:23)

I can still see the bare outlines of the trees.

The bone reaching into the skies for mercy that will not come. Shh.

Amanda Cucher (4:34)

It will fade. Breathe deep and look in my eyes.

J. Garrett Mitchell (4:40)

Of course. Yes, it was a dream.

Amanda Cucher (4:45)

All will be well. The trees were not real.

Perhaps you worked too hard.

J. Garrett Mitchell (4:54)

Perhaps. I'm sorry to have troubled your sleep.

Amanda Cucher (5:00)

And without another word, he fell back into a deep slumber. I would not, tossing and turning the rest of the night, haunted by dreams that were not mine.

Sarah was our eldest and the most like me. I would never choose a favorite. How could a mother? But from birth, Sarah and I had bonded as I'd never bonded with anyone, even her father. We could chatter on for hours or spend perfectly comfortable time in complete silence. Me working away on the maintenance of daily life. She in her books. She was scholarly as I had been as a girl. Her hunger for knowledge kept her eyes intent on the page. Whether it be a book on science or art or the fanciful tales of adventure and love found in our contemporary novels. It bothered Stukeley to distraction to have one of his children's heads planted so firmly in the clouds. He enjoyed the physical labor that came with working with the apple trees. A man whose hands did most of his thinking.