Have any of you heard of Rosedale?. It’s a town located in the state of Vermont, Chittenden county. It sits up against the lake of Champlain and is surrounded by a vast and wet woodland. I didn’t grow up there, my friend did though. But this post isn’t about her, not yet anyway.
You see, my professor gave me the task of producing a written document on a historic town in the area, so I chose Rosedale. I go to the Chittenden county college and Mr Mathews wants this in by the end of the summer. He’s my history professor and he gets real irritated when a student fails to deliver an assigned piece of work on time. He also made it very clear that I go into extreme detail about my chosen location.
To be frank, I really wished I picked some out-of-the-way-town in the boonies, I really did. But I feel that it’s my duty to tell you all about what I’ve learned and experienced in the small town.
My names Kate or Katie. 19, and I’ve rented a small cabin in the woods near Rosedale, real cozy and I kinda dig it. I’ll be staying here until my assignment is complete. For the first few days this small town was really comforting, scenic, and peaceful. I really couldn’t grasp why my friend held such a strong hatred for the place.
When I started my research on this town two weeks ago I had a general grasp on the history and overall vibe of the place. It was built in the late 16th century and before then the land was only populated by natives and wild animals. when some of the early American settlers arrived and ordered the natives off the land they had probably called their home for centuries, they happily obliged, a bit too happily in my opinion. Their small camp was packed up and the settlers never saw them again. But, I guess that’s far better than what most native Americans experienced in those days.
The town thrived for the first 3 years since it had been established. Families moved in, built their homes out of oak, timber and stone. Schools were opened, general stores and farms fed the town. Even though back then it was small, it was home. What’s written below is a direct transcription of a page found in the town’s library. The book I got it from is just filled and filled with facts about the town since its founding. And it’s one of my main sources of information for this assignment.
June 3rd, 1693
Here are just a few eye-witnesses and testimonies given to the officials of the town of Rosedale about the strange event that transpired that afternoon.
“I was taking my usual stroll to the general store to fetch my wife her milk and bread when a man, who had been normally walking across the street at that point, broke out into violent fits of laughter”-Mr W Clarkson
“It was like he had just seen the funniest thing imaginable”- Mrs H Bennett
“All of a sudden the woman (who had stopped to stare at him) experienced the same hysterical feeling as she too began having aggressive fits of laughter”- Mr Todd R Of the Rosedale police dept.
“Then all of a sudden three more passers-by began convulsing in the same manic laughter”- Mr J Billiton
“The laughter, it seemed somehow evil, like they had been cursed or something. There was white foam coming from their mouths and their limbs were twitching, as if they were trying to move; to run maybe, or cover their mouths. but their bodies wouldn’t let them. The laughter wouldn’t let them.”- Mr P Bates
“Women, men, children. They all began laughing”- Mrs H Bennett
“About 30, no 60, 60 or more people began convulsing in that painful laughter. it was horrible” - Mr J Williams
“I remember the sheriff at the time coming over to see what was soo funny but, i remember him looking like a ghost when he saw it”- Mr D Williamson
“The Sheriff’s eyes were wide, wider than I thought a man’s eyes could go”- Mr T Peterson
Soon after 3pm, almost all the people within a few miles of the town centre were a part of this spreading convulsion. The towns then small police force zoned in but there was nothing they could do by the time the first officer touched a nearby laughing lady in a purple dress.
“She just went cold and stiff, like a statue. Then she fell face first to the ground”- Policeman J Jacobs
“They all began to fall, one by one. dead”- Policeman V Nelson
“73 people, 73 people; All dead and cold to the touch”- Sheriff M Martins
After the deceased towns people were cleared away, they went under extreme testing. But due to the lack of medical resources at the time, not much came of the examining of the bodies. There is still no explanation to what caused this event, some blame the water, some blame gas. But in truth, no one will ever know.
I’m pretty sure this incident is referred to by the locals as “The great laughing of 1693” or something. Oh! By the way I am writing these in chronological order so Don’t worry about being confused. However I didn’t learn about this whole laughing incident until my 4th day in town. And this isn’t the first “Incident” that I learned of, that’s the next one; the most popular one, the one I learned about on my 2nd day in town. The day after I had just settled in.
My first stop was the library, obviously. But then upon asking my college friends via Facebook messenger for places I should visit, They all suggested the town square theatre. I didn’t question them at the time but I did hesitate. Don’t get me wrong I have heard the stories too; That it’s haunted, that it’s possessed by some evil, vengeful janitor or something. I love the paranormal; that’s one of the reasons I chose this town for my assignment. But, to be honest all I heard about this town was that it had a haunted theatre and a few other locations that were supposedly possessed by the devil himself.
But anyways I’m off topic, back to the theater.
Upon arrival, I couldn’t tell which was older. The building itself or the crooked looking man behind the ticket booth in front of me. The guy waved me over and I’m guessing he was the elderly man I spoke over the phone with.
“Kaitlin Snith right?”
It’s Katie, I hate you using my full name, incorrectly may I add.
I could feel my childhood hate of seeing my grandparents rebuild itself after he said that. Yeah I know we were supposed to love them or whatever but mine were dicks, and probably why my mother, the biggest dick of them all was soo hard on me. Anyways enough of my bitching.
I gave an awkward node to the man and he led me inside.
The place was huge, much bigger than how it looked on the outside. But once we entered the main room I could swear there was some sort of architectural trickery going on here. It was huge, an oval room with fancy ass chairs lining the back, long dark oak carpeted walkways leading towards a massive stage up front. Huge, and I mean huge red curtains hang above the stage with pulleys attached.
I was stunned at the sight of the place. The theatre in my home town was just a square concrete room with a small ass wooden stage.
Why did we stop building places like this? was all i could think of while the old man showed me around.
His name was Nick. I had paid him 20 Dollars to show me around the old place. At first I thought he would decline my offer for the low amount, however now that i’m here I can see why he didn’t. I’m guessing the place hasn’t seen much business since the 50’s.
When I asked why this was he simply responded with-
“Sam”
“W-what?” I questioned him.
“Sam, It’s all his doing” The old man replied, his voice sounding like it was going to die out any minute.
“Sam?” I reiterated.
“Yep” The man nodded with a half-ass’d grin.
“Well! Who is Sam!?” I questioned him, once again letting my short-ass temper get the better of me.
We were now walking down a small hallway lined with brown oak walls, and red carpeted floors. I could hear the tired old yellow lights buzzing above me. They gave you the type of feeling like they were always on their last legs, even when they were first installed.
The old man turned to our right and slowly opened a door, creaking loudly like it hadn’t been open in years.
Below is the exact story he told me. You can probably find the same version online, with less of the racist remarks that the wrinkly man included. Don’t worry, they aren’t here :)
“You see Sammy, a young-black man was the janitor here, well at least he was when I was around 50 or so. Sammy loved to work the night. And in the night we ran shows. Not movies or stage plays you lot seem to enjoy less and less now but real stage plays. But uh, one night young Sammy was alone in the building. He was cleaning some part of the building, don’t know which so don’t ask. When Sammy was cleaning, a fire started. The owners said it was due to a gas leak or faulty wiring but I don’t believe e’m. Sammy cleaned this place from top to bottom and he never noticed anything wrong with the building. He was burned alive that night, took them weeks to repair the damages. Most say he got stuck backstage in that very changing room”
The man pointed his wrinkly old finger inside the room, past the door.
I already knew this was going to turn into the ghost story that everyone knew this place for. But at least I got an explanation.
I looked at the man for a second, who was just staring inside.
I did the same as soon I was overcome with a feeling I didn’t recognize but I think even my body knew it was wrong.
Imagine your standing in your pajamas, outside in a snowstorm with no heat source whatsoever. Now imagine feeling that in a fully air conditioned room.
I let this feeling overtake me for a few seconds, feeling scared but also intrigued by what it was. I’m guessing you all know what Or rather who I thought it was.
“You feel him too don’t you missy?”
I hadn’t even noticed the man was looking at me, so I jumped when I heard his voice.
Without thinking I just replied with-
“Sammy?-“
“Aye, Sammy.”
This next story about the town I decided to save last for 2 reasons.
So with that in mind, here’s the text messages that she sent me, that describe what she witnessed that night.
“So I was driving down this small two lane highway through a patch of dense woods. I had just gotten my driver’s license and I was going to pick up a friend, no before you ask It wasn’t you Katie. I DO have other friends and believe it or not, some of them have even more exciting lives than you. Anyways, I was a few miles away from town but still inside the city limits. In Fact I could just barely see the ‘leaving town’ sign approaching from the darkness up ahead. There were only a few street lights lit that night, so I’m surprised I could see anything at all.”
“But as I was nervously checking the rear view mirror, something I would religiously do at the time; I noticed a pair of bright yellow headlight fast approaching; they certainly hadn’t been there before, I’m sure of that. I had only checked the mirror a few seconds before that and there were no lights apart from the streetlights that lined the edge of the road. So now, I kept looking at the mirror and the road ahead.”
“Eventually the car merged lanes and sped up, as to over take me. It’s then that I realized; it was a police car. Not just a police car a real old one, like from the 1950’s. Like a patty wagon, or whatever they called them. At first I thought I was being pulled over but there were no sirens or yells coming from the vehicle. In fact I couldn’t see a thing through the windows, there was just blackness, just a black void..”
“Suddenly, just as the police car had merged with my lane and now was directly in front of me; I saw its brake lights light up and I could feel the force of my front bumper colliding with their back bumper; throw me towards the windshield. I could feel the front wheels of my car give way, as traction on the road was lost. My car swerved to the left and circled around in the road for about a few seconds before coming to a stop.”
“My head reeling, I got out and hoisted myself out of the driver’s side door, feeling nauseous and heavy. I thought I would see the old police car. Either parked off to the side, waiting for me, or zooming off into the distance. But, the small two-lane road was just quiet and calm as it had been just a few moments ago, no patty wagon in sight.”
“No, I never traveled down that road again, I didn’t even drive at late hours of the night, busy street or not. I still think “it” wanted something, maybe me. Or maybe that’s just what you think Kate, I know you like this sorta shit. So, enjoy I guess,”
Thanks friend, I will be sure to leave your name and full address in this post, along with a HD picture of your home :D
I have a few more stories about this town to share. I don’t really know if they’re all connected, I doubt I’ll ever find out. But, I’ll continue to write my paper for history, do more research. And, smoke more pot as I’m in a cabin in the middle of a wooded area. What else am I going to do?
This is Katie Smith, signing out for the night as there is only soo much more bright light my sleep deprived-eyes can take from my laptop at 3 in the morning.