If there’s one thing you should know about investigating the paranormal, it’s that every location leaves a mark on you—whether you want it to or not. When my friend, Sam Baltrusis invited me to join him for 13 Most Haunted in Massachusetts, it wasn’t just to share ghost stories over tea. It was a chance to revisit places I’ve personally been impacted by, to unpack the layers of history and energy that linger long after the living have left.
For me, the ghosts are the easy part—it’s the people, the emotions, the tragedies etched into the walls that make every investigation feel like stepping into someone else’s unresolved nightmare. Here’s a glimpse into the haunted places we covered and what I encountered there.
The Orleans Waterfront Inn: A Ghostly Welcome
Let’s start with the Orleans Waterfront Inn on Cape Cod. This place is deceptively charming during the day, but at night, it turns into a whole other beast. I’ve investigated here before, and the ghosts? They know when you’ve arrived.
On one visit, before we even reached the location, my team and I experienced bizarre technical issues—both cars just gave up entirely. Coincidence? Sure, if you believe in that sort of thing. But as we approached the inn, I felt this unquenchable thirst for alcohol—a craving so intense it practically screamed at me. Later, I learned that the spirits haunting the inn had a history of alcoholism. It’s as if they were trying to tell me, “You’re not welcome here.”
Then there’s Hannah, the infamous naked ghost. On one investigation, the innkeeper shared a story about spotting a guest in the kitchen late at night, only to realize days later it was no guest at all. I’ve felt her energy myself—playful, defiant, but always watchful. This isn’t just a haunted inn; it’s a place where the spirits still have stories to tell, and they’ll use you to do it if you let them.
Freetown State Forest: A Dumping Ground for Darkness
If there’s one place in Massachusetts that chills me to my core, it’s Freetown State Forest. This is not your typical haunting. This is a place steeped in violence—murders, satanic rituals, suicides. Investigating here is like peeling back layers of humanity’s worst impulses. Every time I’ve walked those woods, I’ve felt watched—not just by spirits, but by the forest itself.
During one investigation, we were guided by names and circumstances that seemed to come out of nowhere. The spirits there don’t just want to be seen; they want you to understand what happened to them. But as I told Sam during our discussion, I’m not afraid of ghosts. It’s the living I worry about. Freetown has seen its share of darkness, and some of that danger lingers, whether it’s human or something else entirely.
Lizzie Borden Bed & Breakfast: Sleeping in a Crime Scene
The Lizzie Borden house in Fall River is a place that stays with you long after you leave. I’ve investigated here several times, and each visit peels back another layer of its haunting. On my last trip, I stayed in Abigail’s room—the same room where Abby Borden was brutally murdered. I slept on the side of the bed where she was hacked to death, and let me tell you, I didn’t stay there long.
That night, I felt a presence so dark it made me physically recoil. It was as though something—or someone—was standing over me, daring me to stay. Sam and I debated Lizzie’s guilt during the episode, but here’s my take: whatever happened in that house wasn’t just a crime; it was an explosion of rage and pain that’s still echoing today. Lizzie may have been acquitted, but the house itself is a prison for those memories, and anyone who steps inside can feel it.
USS Salem: Death’s Waiting Room
Then there’s the USS Salem, docked in Quincy—a warship turned haunted museum that never saw combat but still managed to collect its share of death. During one investigation, I walked the same halls that once served as a makeshift morgue for over 400 bodies after a 1953 earthquake in Greece. The energy there is thick, almost suffocating, and the spirits? They don’t just linger; they let you know they’re there.
One of the most unsettling presences is known as the Burning Man, whose smell of death precedes him. On my visit, I encountered what felt like a wall of heat and rot, as if walking through a memory that the ship refuses to forget. There’s also a ghost girl who speaks Greek, a salty sea captain, and even a devil dog lurking below deck. Investigating the USS Salem feels like stepping into a space where the past and present overlap in ways you can’t quite explain—or escape.
Why I Keep Coming Back
When Sam and I discussed these locations, it wasn’t just to swap scary stories. These are places I’ve been, spirits I’ve connected with, and histories I’ve felt in my bones. Being a paranormal investigator isn’t about chasing thrills; it’s about listening, understanding, and giving a voice to those who no longer have one.
As I told Sam, the scariest part of any investigation isn’t the ghosts—it’s the humanity. It’s walking into a room and feeling the weight of someone’s last moments, knowing that pain, fear, or anger has kept them tethered to a place they should have long left behind. It’s a reminder that ghosts aren’t the only ones with unfinished business.
To anyone reading this, if you ever get the chance to visit these places, go with an open mind and a healthy respect for what you might encounter. And if you feel the air shift or catch a whisper in the silence, don’t be afraid. They’re just trying to tell their story—just like the rest of us.
Stay spooky.
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