There is an isolated, bare and hilly field in a rural area south of Boston where a lone, age darkened stone monolith stands. Often seen silhouetted against a gray, troubled sky, the rock has reportedly stood there since a time before colonization and seemingly weathered through countless, untold ages. Locals say it has always been there and its actual origin is, by necessity, the stuff of myth and legend. There has been no shortage of investigation into that history but the information uncovered is often unclear and disturbing, marked by the fog of time and erosion. Tainted with the blood that has soaked into the earth surrounding it and haunted by the distant echoes of dark memories.

These days More Brewer Park in Hingham, Massachusetts is a spot used for dog walks or a brief hike. Most people entering the area walk right past the looming stone and think little of it other than, perhaps, a moment of passing curiosity. It’s likely that few of them have considered it’s origin to any extent. However, there are a select few inquisitive individuals who have gone further. The experiences they and others have had in the park are eye opening and have led to a group of dedicated individuals, professional and amateur, interested in getting to the bottom of the monolith’s strange history and it’s unusual effects on the surrounding area.

There is a group called South Shore Strangelings who investigate here. Cale Sebastian Twill is the group’s founder, expains the fascination with the monolith. “We have not been able to trace it’s true origin. Some wonder if Viking visitors to the area prior to the Pilgrims in fact erected it. Some say it may have been Mayan or Aztec in origin. Indigenous tribes have called it “Qhixu Qhixu Qala” or Thunder Rock. Other than that, they seem hesitant to discuss it.”

“All we know for sure, it has been here since before any recorded history other than oral. And that all signs point to it being the source of, or at least related to, the strange happenings in here.”

Leighton Binderlun, a long time visitor, is from a suburb of Boston not far from the park’s entrance on Hobart Street. “Well,” he says. “I’ve been coming here for twenty-five years. Used to bring my kids over here and my dogs for walks, of course. Sadie and Virginia and Belle, may she rest in peace. That is, until the strange happenings we started to experience. Belle, when she first saw the stone just growled at it, all the hair on her neck standing up. Dogs act weird in here. Once I saw a German Shepherd go up and raise it’s leg to pee on the stone and then ran away into the woods howling. Never came back. Lost dog posters all over the neighborhood for a year.”

“Also,” he continued. “Have you notiticed whenever a tree falls in this place it always points towards the monolith? It’s true, you can check for yourself.”

Of course, this report cried out for some investigation and objective perspective. With the help of my assistant and research associate, Hailey Danzig, I did just that. On a warm autumn day we toured a large portion of the 112 acres of the conservation land there and counted 227 fallen trees of various size and age.

198 of them pointed toward the empty field where the stone stood. Undoubtedly an overwhelming majority and, one suspects, more than the simple law of averages would allow.

Ksenia Belcher is a cross country runner who often uses the area as a training grounds. “Dogs are just dogs, whatever. It doesn’t specifically say they have to be leashed in here but it doesn’t say they can run wild and nip at seasoned atheletes either, does it? So if they act weird in here only means their owners don’t give a crap about other people like most assholes in this country. But the dolls? The dolls are fucking creepy.”

Indeed, what seems at first like a harmless local past time, leaving gnomes and dwarves and other toys in the park, upon close inspection takes on a more insidious tone. First off, no one we spoke to admitted to ever leaving anything of the sort behind in the park. Inquiries in the surrounding neighborhoods revealed no one who was aware of or participated in the activity. Then there is the fact that not all the statues and figures left behind seem so harmless.

On our second tour of the trails that wind their way through the park, we passed a mother leading a crying, terrified six year old out of the hiking area in a rush, the poor child shuddering with sobs, shaking with uncontrolled fear. The mother pointed us down one pathway, a secluded area not well travelled, where they had found something so disturbing it would likely give the girl nightmares forever. That object is pictured below.

Interviews with others subsequently referred to the doll as an object of horror for all unfortunate enough to wander that lonely path. Many have heard voices in the area, the faint cry of “Help” in a disembodied toddler’s tone. A low fog often shrouds the spot and more than once a visitor has reported seeing the doll standing upright on it’s one spindly insect leg, peering through the mist as it stand in the middle of the trail, inviting them to come closer.

Massachusetts, of course, is not without it’s mysterious areas considered supernatural hotspots by many. The Bridgewater Triangle is chief amongst them but there are also areas of Salem, Danvers and Fall River where eerie occurrences are regularly reported. That portion of the country has an incredible history; from its indigenous population and the horrors visited upon them by European settlers to more modern tragedies that carry the echoes of that dark past. Strange lights, shadowy specters and the odd encounter with non-human entities have all been reported in the area.

Vinnie Mollusk had one such encounter. “I don’t think it was human,” he postulates, obviously troubled by the event. “First off, most people you see in here have pants on. Most of them. I don’t think a regular person would come in here with all their junk out like that. Also, it was three feet tall and had a bluish green pig snout with big fangs and glowing red eyes. So, yeah.”

“Asked me for change for the bus. That was the key giveaway.” Vinnie gives off an air of surety and credibility as he shakes his head and sums it up. “No bus comes through here.”

No bus, indeed. But apparently the lack of public transport has not stopped train loads of ominous, deep woods atmosphere and strikingly odd occurrences from arriving regularly at the park. Nor has it stopped the locals from being taken on a one way trip straight to Creepsville.