Star In The Night Christmas 1945 - Oscar Winner

A little known Christmas gem from the black and white days of TV. 

Life Begins at Ten!

Everyone deserves a second chance.  For some it comes early.  For others it is late, and for some it never comes at all.  For Jose Mendez, it came at TEN!

The Keys to Life

Waking up at 4:30 on a Sunday morning in early December 2021, a poem came to me, and I couldn't go back to sleep until I wrote it down.  For better or worse, here it is.....................

"The keys to life. I’ll tell you what they are

88 in number, and eight to a bar.

On three sturdy legs they make a stand.

Brought to life by a five-finger hand

The keys can be sadder than a lonely night

and make you feel like you lost your last fight.

Or they can repair anything that is wrong

And break you out into a happy song

The keys are there for anyone to use

For hip hop, rap, rock or the blues.

The keys are there to make a song

Make it good and they’ll sing along.

The keys to life, I’ll tell you what they are

88 in number, and eight to a bar.

On three sturdy legs they make their stand

Brought to life by a five-finger hand."

The Midnight Express - Short Story Theater

The Midnight Express

The YouTube version of the Season Three Episode

 of Bill Russo's Short Story Theater, 

'The Midnight Express'

 

A few decades ago the United States expanded from 48 to 50 states by admitting the warm Islands of Hawaii, and the frozen expanse of the Alaska territory.

Up next two more islands?

Will Porto Rico, aka Puerto Rico, and Cuba be numbers 51 and 52? Before you say nay consider this - about a century ago Guam, Porto Rico, and Cuba belonged to the U.S. as "Territories". Now P R is a quasi state whose people are citizens of the U.S. Guam is still a territory, and it's people ARE CITIZENS of the U.S. Is Cuba next in line? Some people in FLA (especially in Miami) and in Cuba hope that it happens.

 

The American Crowbar Case

 

 

As transcribed from Bill Russo’s Short Story Theater Podcast

On Spreaker and

all other podcast sites from Apple and Amazon to Zebra

 

 

 

This is the strange, but true story of a man and his crowbar. He loved that crowbar. He was so attached to it that it became his constant companion even after it was driven completely through his brain.

Yes, that heavy, 43 inch, 13-pound crowbar was shot clean through his brain, leaving a gaping hole through his left eye, before continuing on, right through the back of his head, and landing 80 feet away from him.

Yes, it is true my friends, this is the real-life story of one Phineas P. Gage. As a construction foreman, part of his job was to use a long and heavy iron bar to push explosive materials into a hole, before setting off an explosion to remove parts of hillsides or mountains for road construction.

He used an iron bard that he had specially built to his specifications. That hulking iron bar was almost four feet long and weighed 13 pounds. Mr. Gage had great success and there was a high demand for his services - until one day the bomb blast, literally blew up in his face!

You might have an inkling that, that is the end of the story – over, ended, finished, just at it is beginning! But no! It is far from over.  Our tale today is indeed just beginning. Just beginning, even though that 13-pound crowbar was propelled from the blast site like a rocket, and like a speeding jet, it flew straight at young Phineas Gage.

The crow-bar entered his head at a point under his chin, and then the three-foot iron bar punched right through his brain, leaving a gaping exit hole in the back of his head. It temporarily split his head in half just as if it had a hinge in the middle.

After the explosion that sent the heavy crowbar rocketing through his head before landing 80 feet away from him Phineas Gage did not die. In point of fact, he never lost consciousness.  Later in the day, he was not in any particular great pain or distress when attended to, by a doctor. He informed the physician that he would be back at work with his trusty crowbar made specially for him in just two or three days

This eerie saga begins in New England in the green mountain state, Vermont. There's a tiny town there wedged in between the mountains called Cavendish. You could look it up on Wikipedia.

It's a small village, and since 1800 has always had about 1 300 residents. In 1848, 25 year-old Phineas Gage was a foreman on a construction crew assigned the job of blasting through a mountainous area, to pave the way for the railroad tracks.

Phineas P Gage was born in 1823, in Grafton County, New Hampshire. As a youth he began working with explosives on mines and quarries near his home. As he gained experience, he began working for the railroads in New England and New York State.

He became an expert at blasting out huge sections of hills and mountains, to make level paths for railroad tracks.

Young ‘Finn’ Gage was said to be a man of great strength. In height he was 5 foot 6 inches tall, that was about the average for men of the early 1840s. His strength however was far above average. He was a muscular individual and weighed a trim 150 pounds.

 It is said that he had an iron will as well as an iron frame. He also had that infamous iron bar, more than three feet long it was, and fabricated from 13 pounds of specially made steel. It was called a tamping bar. Finn used it to set vast quantities of explosive materials to blast away at hills and mountains.

A handsome young man, he was and much pursued by the ladies of Vermont even after the accident that closed one eye, and left a scar on his face, and a lump on the top of his head.

 

 When he was 25, he came to Cavendish, Vermont. Cavendish was then, and still is, a small village that is barely a tiny dot surrounded by mountains on all sides.

Finn Gage became the foreman of the blasting cruiser signed to clear the way for the railroad tracks that would open up the tiny settlement of Cavendish to the rest of the world.

Part of job job was to pack padding material into a hole around the explosives that would help direct the bomb blast into the mountain and not back upon the workers. For this task, he used that 43 inch long, iron bar, the tamping rod, that was specially made for him. He used it to push the padding material up against the dynamite, to act as a barrier that would direct the blast at the mountain and not back at the workers.

 

The morning of September 13, 1848 was cool and clear. At about 13 minutes past eight, Finn Gage was directing his crew at a work site about a half mile south of the center of Cavendish Village. They were making ready to blast the hillside, to prepare a level road bed for the tracks of the Rutland and Burlington railroad.

The first job of the day, was to bore a hole deep into an outcropping of rock. Once the hole was completed, the next step was to put in a quantity of blasting powder and a fuse.

When that was done. Finn Gage would pick up his trusty 13-pound iron bar, and use it as a tamping iron to pack sand clay or some other similar material into the hole above the powder in order to contain the energy of the blast and direct it into the surrounding rock.

 

The work went well that crisp autumn day. Much progress was made, but as the sun prepared to slide down behind the mountains, it was half past four, very near quitting time.

But before letting his crew go for the day, Finn gage wanted to get one more blast against the rugged mountain.

“Let's go for one more explosion boys!” he said.

Perhaps he was working a little too fast, trying to beat the clock. We don't know for certain, but one of the other workers later speculated that the usually efficient Mr. Gage, may have forgotten to completely tamp down the sand which would send the force of the blast into the mountain instead of back at the crew.

We can't say for sure what caused the problem, but here's what we do know. As Finn was finishing his work with his 13-pound iron bar, one of the men shouted to him. Perhaps it was a warning. Finn turned around to answer, and just as he opened his mouth, the tamping iron struck a rock, it caused a spark.

The powder exploded. it rocketed the tamping iron from the hole. All 43 inches of it entered the left side of gage's face in an upward direction just forward of the angle of the lower jaw, and continuing upward outside the upper jaw. It fractured the cheekbone, then it passed behind the left eye, and through the left side of the brain - then completely out the top of the skull, through the frontal bone!

After it came out the top of his head, the iron continued to fly through the air before landing point first in a grassy area 80 feet away from where it struck Phineas Gage.

Finn Gage was thrown onto his back and gave some brief convulsions of the arms and legs but spoke within a few minutes.  He told the boys in the crew he was all right.

In point of actual fact, he walked on his own with little assistance. One of the crew members sent for a vehicle so that they could transport Finn over the rugged three-quarters of a mile trail back to town.

When the ox-cart arrived, Finn was still conscious, still talking, and he even and sat upright in the ox-cart during the ride-back. He was taken to the hotel in the center of Cavendish where he and the other contract workers were staying during the construction.

 

 

When they got to the hotel, Finn got off the ox cart on his own power and instead of going to his room as everyone expected, he took a seat in a rocking chair on the front porch.

He rocked gently in that chair and chatted with the townspeople for almost 30 minutes before the arrival of the local doctor whose rounds included Cavendish and two other small villages named Proctorsville and Ascutney.

At this point in the story, it's five thirty in the afternoon, one hour after the unbelievable accident that saw Finn’s head being momentarily split in half like a hinged door before the elastic action of his skin brought it back in place. It was still light out, with evening twilight about a half hour away.

The scene is the front porch of the downtown hotel where Phineas Gage is sitting in a rocking chair talking with a large group of townspeople gathered around him.

“I'm all right boys. It takes more than a little blast of dynamite to put me down. I'll be back at work in one or two days you, wait and see. I'm fine. In a little bit, I'll go upstairs to my room and get some sleep. I'll see you all tomorrow night in the tavern, after you get off work.”

Here's what the attending physician, many years later, had to say about his patient, Finn gage.

“Yah, that boy was one for the record books! I'll tell you that! Yes. To survive that trauma, and never even lose consciousness was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen, in five decades of medical practice. Back in 1848 when it happened. I was barely three years out of medical school and was the simple country saw bones of three little villages. When put together, they didn't even equal one downtown block of a big city like Providence. Rhode Island or Boston.

I never had seen very many head injuries other than a couple people getting kicked in the head by a horse. I was busy tending to Aunt Jenny Grover when I was contacted about the accident.  Aunt Jenny had a bad case of the vapors.

Two men from the railroad blasting crew came and they told me that their foreman was hurt.  They claimed that an iron bar rocketed right clean through his head but he never passed out, they said. They told me he was sitting on the front porch of the Cavendish Hotel telling everybody about it. I grabbed my medical bag and made a quick run from 2nd Street up to the hotel on Main Street.”

“When I got to the hotel, I instructed everybody to stand back so I could get a look at the patient.  Sure enough all I could see was young Finn Gage sitting in a rocking chair telling his story to a group of fascinated townspeople.

I spoke to Finn and said ‘What’s going on here Mr. Gage. Why do you have that big crowbar of yours sitting at the sitting in the front of that rocking chair?”

He replied calmly and slowly…..

“Well Doc, Doc Williams is it?  Thanks for coming. Well, you're all out of breath from runnin’. Why don't you sit down and rest up a minute because, I've got quite a bit of a case for you.  It might even make you famous.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Gage. We will see about that,” I replied, but right now,

I want everybody to go home now.  Go home you folks, this patient needs quiet now. No more stories for today.  You folks go home go and I'll let you know how Phineas Gage is after, I examine him. Get! go home!”

Then I spoke to the patient….

Yes Phineas.  I'm Doctor Williams, Edward Williams.  I graduated from Harvard Medical School in Boston three years ago.  I’ve come to have a look at you, but I've got a serious case right now. Old Mrs. Gover has a bad case of the vapors. She's passing out left and right… losing consciousness all the time,  but you Mister Gage you're the healthiest man in town! But I do see that you have been injured. Now tell me exactly what happened.”

“Well Doc,” Gage replied. “Well Doc, as you probably know I’m a contractor for the railroad company. I'm in charge of blasting away the rocks to make the ground level for the tracks.

“Jeesum Crow! I've got to take down half of the Green Mountains to get this job done. Godfrey Daniels, it's a tough job and now this accident I had today is going to slow me down. We had a misfire on the job just before quttin’ time.  That crowbar of mine that you see at my feet was in the hole I bored out, when the dynamite misfired and my 43 inch crowbar long got blasted clean through my head! Went in one side and came out the other!

Now I'm gonna have to take tomorrow off!  Godfrey Daniels I'm not happy about this. Please Doc, please excuse my swearing. I go to church every Sunday.  I never swear but JEESUM CROW!, right now i feel like swearing my aching head right off!”

“Okay. Okay Phineas. It’s all right,” I spoke slowly and quietly to Gate, who was becoming very agitated.  “Calm down now and I’ll take a look at that wound of yours. But do you really expect me to believe that big crowbar of yours went right through your head?

If that happened young fella, we'd be planting you right now out there in the Cavendish Cemetery not collaborating here on the porch of the Cavendish Hotel.”

 “Well, it happened Doc,” he quickly replied. “It happened just like I said and if you don't believe me ask any one of the guys on the crew. JEESUM CROW! GODFREY DANIELS!  Doc, everybody at the job site saw it happen.”

There being no hospital within a hundred miles, I used the patient's hotel room for the examination and I quickly found that beyond belief, what young Finn Gage said happened to him, really did happen!

A huge, gaping hole was deeply indented in the left side of his face in an upward direction. That's where the iron bar entered. The crowbar then moved upwards fracturing his cheekbone. Ater that it passed just behind the left eye causing much damage in the area and rendering the eye useless. It continued on from there, piercing through the left side of his brain. Finally, it went completely through the top of his skull before continuing on for some 30 yards before landing point first in a patch of grass.

At about seven p.m., two-and-one-half hours after the accident, Gage's head began to swell. The top of his head looked like an inverted funnel. He was rapidly losing blood. I'm not going to describe graphically to you the details of his condition.

Let's just say the bed was covered in gore, and Mister Gage began to suffer. He vomited and when he did about one cup-full of his brain was forced out through the hole in the top of his head. Enough of the details

About 7:30, another doctor arrived, Doctor J. H. Harlow.  He was a few years older than I and he had more experience with head wounds. We shaved the scalp around the region where the crowbar exited, then we removed coagulated blood, small bone fragments, and a few ounces of protruding brain.

After probing for foreign bodies, and replacing two large detached pieces of bone, we closed the wound with adhesive straps, leaving it partly open for drainage.

The entrance wound in the cheek we bandaged loosely for the same reason. A wet compress was applied, then we used a night cap as a further bandage around his head.

His arms and hands were badly burned from the blast. We also bandaged them. Later that evening I made a note in my notebook that his mind was clear. But he began to be agitated and he kept moving his legs - alternately retracting and extending them.

 He told me not to allow any visitors, but continued to insist he would be back to work in a few days. He said he doesn't really care to see his friends right now, but asked us to tell them he'll be back at work in a couple days.

He did not return to work the next day or even the next week, or the week after that. Beginning 12 days after the accident Gage was still our patient still, in his hotel room, and going downhill. He was in a coma, drifting in and out sometimes semi-comatose. Occasionally he was not in the coma, but seldom speaking unless spoken to, and answering only in monosyllables. On the 13th day his strength failed and he went into a full coma.

There were weird, bizarre growths of fungus growing out of the hole in his head, as well as from his damaged eye. He would not eat. His friends expected death within hours and they had already made his coffin.

On the 14th day after the accident, it seemed there was no hope for Phineas P Gage.

 Fungus growths as big as stalks of broccoli were sprouting from his eye and from the hole in his head. The ingenious Doctor Harlow came up with a solution. He cut off the fungus sprouts and poured a caustic solution over the infected areas.

It was silver nitrate, and this was four decades before any other doctor used it! Out of desperation, he poured the substance on the infected areas, and almost immediately the patient turned the corner.

Just 10 days later, 24 days after the explosion, Finn Gage was conscious and able to sit up in bed and take nourishment. After one month he was taking short walks, and talking about going back to work.

He was not able to return to his railroad blasting work, but he went to his mother's house in New Hampshire and made a full recovery.

He could not go back to his former job, so for a time he decided to capitalize on his fame by joining Phineas T Barnum’s Museum in New York City. For 12 and a half cents you could see the man who survived being speared by a 13-pound, iron bar.

 

Later on, Phineas went to South America and he became a one-eyed stagecoach driver in Chile, leading a team of six horses over long-distance routes.

He was a bit of a bit of a sensation in Chile. The departure of the stagecoach was always a big event at Valparaiso. A crowd of ever astonished chilenos, assembled every day to witness the phenomenon of the one-eyed man driving six horses.

 

It was a demanding job but Phineas did it for six or seven years until his health began to fail in 1859.

He returned to the United States where problems from his old injuries began to worsen.  He died in 1860, some 12 years after becoming famous as the only man to survive having a 13-pound crowbar rocketed through his head.

Oddly enough all through those last 12 years of his life he carried that 43-inch long, crowbar with him wherever he went, like a little kid carrying a teddy bear. For some inexplicable reason, he loved that crowbar - that crowbar that nearly killed him - that crowbar that made him famous.

In life it was his constant companion. In death, he gave it to the Warren Museum which is part of Harvard University in Boston. You can see it there still, and be in awe of the 43-inch, 13-pound bar that split the head of Phineas P. Gage in two. Phineas, P. Gage, who was only 22 inches longer than his beloved iron bar.

That's it for this edition of Bill Russo's Short Story Theater. Listen to us on any podcast site. Watch us on YouTube.  Like us on Facebook. Share us. Do anything - except ignore us. Come back again real soon --- won't you?

Hallo-Weird 

The complete story, as transcribed

from Bill Russo's Short Story Theater

Season 3, Episode 2

Hallow-Weird

As presented on Bill Russo’s

Short Story Theater Podcast.

Season 3, Episode 2.

 

Each year as summer gives way to the first days of autumn, the thoughts of many people both young and old. turn to Halloween.  For them, the holiday is not a singular event to be celebrated on the last day of October by taking the sheet from the bed and cutting holes for the eyes and wearing it on a march through the neighborhood with a paper sack to pry treats from kind-hearted neighbors.

To the true celebrants, Halloween is not a single day or night but a whole season that starts around the first of September and continues until the jack-o'-lantern is replaced by a Christmas tree.

To these people, goblins and ghosts are celebrated friends  - but not so,  werewolves! Even the most ardent Halloween fans fear the werewolf - and rightly so!

Many so-called werewolves were actually serial killers. The tradition goes back exactly 600 years, to the autumnal season of the year 1521. That was when Peter Bergeo and Michael Verdun swore allegiance to the devil.

“The court of inquisition is now in session.  Peter Bergeo and Michael Verdun, the people charge you with witchcraft, murder and beastly unspeakable acts.

We have heard the testimony of the score of witnesses, and you are guilty beyond doubt.  Before i pass sentence upon you, you may speak. What say you Michael Verdun?”

 

“Nothin’. I  got nothin’.  Nothin’ to say. Nothin”

“Michael Verdun you are guilty of the brutal murders of at least 11 people and you are sentenced to be burned at the stake until nothing remains of your mortal person but ashes.”

 

“Now Peter Burgeo. what say you?”

“I say, 20 years before I was captured, I was a sheep herder, a humble sheep herder.  One night during a fierce thunderstorm three horrible demons riding black horses galloped into my field in the dark of night.

Their eyes blazed like a roaring fire and they spoke in a whisper that was louder than the thunder that boomed through the hills.

They said that if I would serve them as masters and renounce all things good and holy, I would have extraordinary abilities and power a massive flock of sheep and great wealth.

I agreed to their terms and became a vile practitioner of horrible filthy deeds of increasingly evil proportion. Things got even more perverse a few weeks later when Michael Verdun and I attended a witch's sabbath.

 Gruesome, gnarled witches and gaunt, wasted warlocks circled around us like hungry wolves. they removed our clothes and we stood silently while the misshapen witches and the warlocks spread some sort of an oil and ointment all over our bodies.

After a moment I had a tingling sensation all over me, that was followed by an intense itching which was so vivid I was ready to scratch myself to the bone.  But before I could do so, the itching subsided, and painful pimples sprung up all over my skin from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head.  Not long after that - coarse. thick hair sprang up through the pimples. The stiff, brutish hair was almost as strong as a sewing needle and just as sharp and pointy at the ends.

Michael Verdun also morphed into a hairy vicious creature. Our arms grew longer and our backs stretched out by a length of 20 inches or more, and our teeth her teeth became long, sharp and  pointed like daggers;.

We dropped to the ground on all fours and sprinted through the woods. No longer human, we now were wolves, though much larger than the natural beasts.

In our wolf forms for two decades we pursued attacked and killed adults, children, and a wide variety of domesticated pets, including, but not limited to cats, dogs, and small birds!

How's that for my statement?”

And So, Bergeo and Vurdon were finally caught, tried, and convicted.  The sentence was death at the burning stake. This was believed to be the only way to permanently extinguish the evil force that inhabited the bodies of the two killers. They did not die quickly or quietly but they did die, and not once in the last 600 years have they reappeared.

Sadly, others just as evil have come along. Giles Garnier, known as the Werewolf of Dole was another monster from about the same time period. He too claimed that he had an ointment that changed him into a wolf.  He too killed many people and was finally caught and burned at the stake. After being reduced to a pile of ashes,  Werewolf of Dole never returned.

Whether these three. Burgeo, Verdun, and Garnier were mentally ill, acted under the influence of a hallucinogenic substance, or were simply cold-blooded killers, is open to debate. The truth is, it did not matter to the people of past centuries, because it was their belief that such hateful crimes could only be committed by a horrific beast such as the werewolf.

The most notorious werewolf of all time is Peter Stubb. He was once a peaceful farmer in Bedburgh, a small town in Germany near the Belgian border.  After acquiring a certain magical device, he gained the power to transform into a nearly invincible, murderous, hairy creature.

During the night Peter Stubb became a sharp-toothed hairy wolf and attacked and killed many citizens of the town. After killing his victims he devoured them just as if they were juicy slabs of steak or ham.

A group of hunters reported seeing him as a wolf they spotted him as he attacked and killed a blacksmith. After consuming about half of the bloody remains, the hunters said, he shape-shifted back into his human form.  As a human, he was in his vulnerable state and they were able to capture him.  Before they executed Peter Stubb, the hunters tortured him and he admitted his crimes of killing household pets, men, women, and children - and then eating their remains.

Under the torture. He said that the secret of his powers to transform into a wolf, lay in a special belt that he owned. The belt was white with black stones attached to it at regular intervals.  Even in the darkest night, the belt glows with a cold light, just like a full moon. 

Anyone who wears the belt will possess the ability to morph into a wolf. When the hunters dragged Stubb to the stake to burn him to death, they tried to remove the mystical belt. However, they found that somehow the evil Peter Stubb had taken off the belt and disposed of it at some unknown location.

After they burned him to ashes at the stake, they looked for the belt but it was never found - or if it was recovered, whoever found it, is keeping it secret. No one knows who owns the belt today or exactly where it is. Yet rumor has it that it might be in an abandoned house in your town!

if you are out on Halloween night, or any night, while you are strolling on the sidewalk; if you happen to see someone wearing a glowing white belt: run away very fast or alternately have a burning stake handy and throw it at the white belt as hard as you can!

Well as Bugs Bunny used to say “that's all folks”. Thanks for checking in to Bill Russo's short story theater. Come back anytime. There's always a free ticket waiting for you at the box office in the little theater just off main street. One more thing. Come back again real soon - won't you?

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Top Five Short Story Theater Episodes This Month

The top five episodes of Short Story Theater from September of 2021 - click to listen to Number One - https://www.spreaker.com/user/11578348/swillings-mills-will-it-become-the-large

Fake or Fact - 2 - The Cheetah Roars

In Episode Two of our new 5 minute quiz show, Fake or Fact, Basil Nightingale's declaration is, "The Roar of a Cheetah is Louder than that of its much larger Cousin, the Lion!" Is it Fake or Fact?

Get the answer on the inside.....join us now. If you enjoy the show, please like us, share us and subscribe.

Some time ago when we had 400 subscribers I began a campaign to get to 1000 by my 78th birthday in November of 2021, we made it with several months to spare and we're on our way to 2000 now, hopefully before I hit 79 candles on the cake!

Fake Or Fact - the New 2 Minute Quiz Program

Here's episode one of our new deadpan comedy quiz - it's 2 minutes long. Play along with us.... If you Swallow Chewing Gum - It Will Stay Inside of you for a year! Is it fake, or is it fact? Join us on the inside for the answer....

Swilling's Mills - Will it Become the Largest City in the U.S.

Notes by Bill Russo

Here's the video version of the Kick-off of Season Three of my Short Story Theater Podcast. Episode One is the tale of Swilling's Mills. Despite its horrid name, it is poised to become the largest community in all the 50 United States before the end of this century. The rapid growth of Swilling's Mills did not take place until its name was changed - and that is the subject of this edition. Feel free to 'like us' and 'share us'.

The Adventures of Super (Sales) Man, by Short Story Theater

Short Story Theater has gone commercial!

Our cast is now available for audio promotions in lengths of 30 and 60 seconds. See my Fiverr gig for details or email me at Billrrrrr@yahoo.com. All voices are available including Basil Nightingale, Matt LaBook and even old 'Asa Bittridge'.

The Top Ten Weird Virus Masks Worn by Shoppers

We've come up with the top ten weirdest

Covid Face Masks worn by shoppers.

Check out this short five minute video

and let us know if you agree with our picks.

Don't Knock Off Daddy!

Stifle that first impulse to stomp on,

squash, or otherwise harm good old Daddy Long Legs.

You'll be doing your house and yourself a favor if you don't KNOCK OFF THE DADDY!

Two Disgraced New York Pols get Booted from Fraternal Organization

Two Disgraced New York Pols

get Booted from Fraternal Organization

 

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The Deadliest Place in the Bridgewater Triangle - The "Nip"

The eerie lake in the Bridgewater Triangle known as 'The Nip', despite being just three feet deep on average, claimed the lives of unsuspecting swimmers virtually every summer, until finally, about two decades ago, it was closed forever. Its large, sandy beach was covered with jagged rocks and swimming was banned in perpetuity. . How could this small 350 acre pond in the town of Bridgewater be so deadly? Join Bill Russo, who regularly swam in the Nip back in the 1900s, as he re-visits the most deadly place in the Bridgewater Triangle and finds that it is now, the Most Deserted Place in the Triangle!

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ILL FATE - CAN YOU BEAT IT?

Fate! Must we be a slave to it? Or can we change the life that has been predetermined for us. That is the dilemma facing Josh Lamont, after his tea-leave-reading family members predicted he would die young, by falling through thin ice in rural New Hampshire! Here is the audio version of Bill Russo's new short tale of suspense, as broadcast on Short Story Theater. It's available on all podcast sites from Apple and Amazon to Zebra!

Lizzie Borden - Life After 80 Whacks

New information on the more than 120 year old Lizzie Borden case? Yes. Our channel does indeed have some fresh details about the world's most famous double murder - the brutal axe slaying of Lizzie Borden's greedy father and his second wife. Details on the inside.....click on in. And if you like the show, please subscribe to our channel.

"Lizzie Borden After 80 Whacks! "

A fresh take on the old Lizzie Borden Tale - with new information 

that comes from one of the owners of Lizzie's second house,

a mansion called Maplecroft.  

She lived there in seclusion from the late 1890s until her death on the first day of June in 1927.  

Knotso Clanky, of Bill Russo's Short Story Theater Podcast, narrates the 

video.  Here's a 90 second preview.  Stay tuned for the full reveal on the Bill Russo YouTube Channel and on Bill Russo's Short Story Theater Podcast. Click the video to watch the preview...

 

Basil Nightingale, Short Story Theater Podcast Host is looking for side ...

Basil Nightingale, host of Bill Russo's Short Story Theater Podcast, is well known to the 5000 regular listeners of the podcast series, as well as in videos on YouTube.

He's decided to moonlight as a voice over guy. Basil is regarded as one of the finest CG voices in the WWW. Contact his agent, Bill Russo (Billrrrrr@yahoo.com) if you need a spokesperson for a video, a short story or an e-book. Reasonable rates!

The Cold Touch of Death - YouTube - Short Story Theater

Do you dare to 'Sit Up With The Dead' 

in a desolate cabin at the edge of

the Hockomock Swamp in the Bridgewater Triangle?

My Second-Most Weird Paranormal Sighting

by Bill Russo

In 2013, with the release of the Bridgewater Triangle Documentary Film, my encounter with a little-foot creature that may have been a Puckwudgie, was seen and heard by some 1200 people attending the premiere of the movie.  Many more thousands of people have seen it since.  The work was shown in a brief theatrical run and then settled in for a long stay on Amazon Prime where it has recorded millions and millions of viewing minutes.  

That meeting with the pint-sized hairy little thing that kept calling me with the eerie cry "Eee Wan Chu!" remains the most singular paranormal event in my 77 years on this planet.  

The second weirdest thing that I have ever seen or experienced took place late in 2020.  During the autumn, I started work on 'The Jilted Arbor of Bell's Neck', a new short story and audio-play for my podcast series, 'Bill Russo's Short Story Theater'.  

The story is about a word - "J I L T E D" - that was carved by a lover into the largest tree in the town square.  In that one word is contained a sad tale of love, betrayal and ultimately, redemption.  

I hope you will listen to the episode - it can be heard for free on all podcast sites.  https://www.spreaker.com/user/11578348/the-jilted-arbor-of-bells-neck

The story, I have been assured, is an interesting little yarn - but what made it weird was the ending. Actually there were two endings.  The first ending was the finish of the story which I was typing into my HP Laptop.

As I was typing the ending, which involves a large woodpecker tapping away at the letters carved into a tree - I heard a tapping on my window.  

I knew it wasn't a person, because that window is three floors above the ground!  I ignored the tapping at first because I was intent on finishing my story - but the hammering on the window got so loud I was afraid it was going to break!  I looked over and saw a large bird, at least a foot long, feverishly smashing its beak into the window.  

I dashed over to the window and shooed it away but it paid no attention to me.  While it continued to hammer even more intensely at the window, I felt a real concern that it was indeed going to smash the window and fly in!  

I reached for my Nikon Coolpix and took three photos.  With the last click of the shutter, the fierce woodpecker launched one last window-shaking tap and flew off.  

In my life I have never had a bird attack any of my windows - except for that one, huge Yellow Hammer Woodpecker.  It was a singular event - and made more so, by the fact that it began its frenzied attack just as I was typing a similar attack into my PC for the ending of my story.  

What does all this mean?  I have no idea.  Co-incidence?  I have no idea.  Significance? I'm open to suggestions!  Make a comment here or send me a comment to Billrrrrr@yahoo.com