Lore - Lore Alive 2: In Dreams

Episode Date: October 9, 2026

Welcome to Lore Alive, a special Halloween bonus series that brings dark tales from history to life with immersive sound design and voice actors. Today's tale puts us in the middle of the first known New England vampire exhumation, and the terrifying dream that plagued a heartbroken father. Lore Alive was created by Aaron Mahnke, with writing and direction by Nicolas Tecosky, audio production and sound design by Brandon Grugle. This week's episode starred J. Garrett Mitchell as Stukeley, Sarah Palm as Sarah, and Amanda Cucher as Elizabeth. ————————— Lore Resources:  Get Ad-Free Lore: lorepodcast.com/support Official Lore Merchandise: lorepodcast.com/shop ————————— Series Sponsor: Warby Parker: Right now, buy one pair and get additional pairs for 20%. Go to WarbyParker.com/LORE to try on any pair virtually! ©2026 Aaron Mahnke. All rights reserved.

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 span 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 Tillingast family experienced a very similar outbreak, and took equally drastic measures.

In our retelling of Sarah Tillingast'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. It started with the dream. The dream.

Stuckley's nightmare. That is what started. at all, even if it was not his fault. I was in the orchard, but it was different somehow, as if this one corner was somehow mine. Mine alone to tend, and 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. Suddenly to wither with horrifying speed. Turning black and melting from the branches. A liquid rot that spread across the ground as the great tree itself shed its leaves and die. That rod. 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 blight I threw myself at the roots tried to dig away the spreading infection with my fingers 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 sheathes and beneath there was not would. But bone. All I could do was Neil or felt so helpless. It is all right. It was a dream. I can still see the bare outlines of the trees. The bone reaching into the skies for mercy that will not come. It will fade. Breathe deep and look in my eyes. Of course. Yes, it was a dream. All will be well.

The trees were not real. Perhaps you worked too hard. Perhaps. I'm sorry to have troubled your sleep. 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 chat her on for hours or spend perfectly comfortable time in complete silence, me working away on the maintenance of daily life, she and 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 Stuck Lee 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. But I believe he was in awe

that such a child could have come from him. At any rate, he indulged her studies just the same. Who knows, he'd say. Maybe she'll be more than a simple housewife, he said. And I bit my tongue. He didn't mean to be hurtful. After all, he was merely an orchard keeper. Sarah would frequently take long walks with whichever book was holding her attention at the time

and morbidly began to sit among the small scattering of stones in our community's burial ground. I visited there with her one afternoon and immediately saw the appeal. A view of the forest nearby, the solitude of keeping company with the dead. What brings you here each day, Sarah? The quiet? That's a part of it, yes. Here I can be the me I see in my dreams. What do you dream?

I dream of seeing the world. Well, if you marry properly... No, I don't see a husband in my dream. I travel alone. I see. Oh, Mama, come now. No, no, I only wish to understand. I hope to be able to write stories and see the world, on my own, my own terms.

I do not wish for more family than I already have. You are enough for me. What is that face? I never had a dream like that. I hope that you get everything you want. I will take you with me. How about that? I would happily join you.

That very night Sarah fell ill. A mild fever, a cough or two. A summer cold, I thought. It lingered, worsened. And then, she was gone. We buried her in her favorite spot, where she had spent so much time reading and dreaming. It was a bitter pill knowing that she would never travel further than her.

own headstone. Knowing that I would never travel with her, to see the avid adventurer I knew that she would one day have been. Within a week, her younger brother Richard began to show symptoms of the same disease. I couldn't help but think with dread of Stuckley's dream of the withering orchard, and I was not alone in that. Cannot sleep. I know. I'm haunted by the dream. The orchard? Yes.

It haunts me too. I was beside Richard's bed this afternoon. He was grunting in his sleep, as if he were trying to speak through whatever he was dreaming. And so I shushed him as I would when he was a baby. And then, still asleep, he spoke to me. What did he say? He said,

I see her She is waiting on the end of the bed right now She's come back for me And then nothing more I am afraid Elizabeth I know I am too

By the dawn Richard had joined his older sister We buried him there next to Sarah The dirt of her grave was still freshly turned. Stuck Lee was driven half mad by his death. Sarah had been the apple of my eye. Richard had always been his secret favorite. The eldest, the tallest, the tallest tree in the orchard dream, I thought. Stuckley quit coming to bed and instead began to spend the night in the chair in the room with Caleb. I think he believed that he was guarding his youngest.

from disease, from death itself, or was it from Sarah? He could not or would not say. But in this way, nights passed, stuckly keeping vigil and I alone in the dark. But he was mistaken. Caleb would not be taken next. It seemed as though I myself would be the next apple tree to wither. It came on fast as it had with the church. children, the fever, the cough. Within a week of its first symptoms, the sickness had taken

firm root in my body. There was a strange otherworldliness about it. Once a woman who did not dream at all, I was suddenly awash in them. Dreams of my mother, my father, who had toiled away in the tannery until he died of his own cough, barely 40 years. years of age. In these he was hail, hearty, alive. In one such dream, he carried a picnic basket up a slope, my mother and I walking behind. Ahead I saw the burial ground, and in the middle of the headstones, right where I knew Sarah and Richard to be, grew two apple trees laden with fruit. Even within the dream, I connected these trees to stucklays, though these could hardly be described as withering. They stood tall and confident, their branches waving in the wind, beckoning us forward.

One morning, awakening from these dreams, I was momentarily confused. Here I was. Once again in my room, the bright daylight streaming. in through the window. And there, in the chair next to the bed, was Stuckley. And at the foot of the bed, Sarah.

For a moment solid and bright, I was so excited that I bolted up for my pillow and was about to cry out in my joy. But she disappeared. Evaparated into the dust moats in the morning light.

What is it, my love? It was... I saw her. Sarah. A dream, Elizabeth. No. She was here, at the end of the bed, as real as you. Without another word, Stuckley stood.

The look on his face in that moment was inscrutable. A man grappling with something large, something beyond his own comprehension. and then an emotion familiar to his face. Resolve. Where are you going? I'll return by nightfall. I promise.

He marched out the door, only pausing to collect Caleb. And I was alone. I would not remain so for long. It could have been hours or minutes. I dozed. And in that half sleep, images full. flashed before my eyes, familiar and strange. Again, my father, his strong arms embracing me after a near drowning,

his hot tears on the crown of my head. A boy I had known in youth astride the horse that would one day throw him, ending his brief life too soon. My first glimpse of Stuckley, my poor sweet husband at a country dance how our eyes met across the dimly lit room how he marched right up to me and without any fear or hesitation

asked for a dance a simple man my stuckly an orchard keeper even then but how he could dance and then an older stuckly The Stuckley who had just departed, Caleb trailing through a dense wood, coming upon a clearing and looking upward toward. I was suddenly awake again.

Sarah was sitting at the foot of the bed. I was afraid to speak, lest she dissipate once more into the ether. But she did not. She remained. We regarded each other for a long moment before I could speak. Sarah, am I dreaming still? Does it matter? I don't suppose it does.

Are you here for me? If you like. Your father would be heartbroken. Father has always been a stubborn man. He's a good man as well. He is. He's doing something horrible, though, as we speak. It is purely out of love, though it is deeply misguided.

What is it? Tell me. I believe that you saw him just now, in the forest. Yes, coming to a clearing and... I saw the hill beyond the trees, the burial ground. Yes. What is he doing at the burial ground? He and Caleb have come to my... grave in father's hands a shovel tied to his waist his grandpa's old hunting knife

what will he do he will dig it will take time and Caleb is not strong enough to be of much assistance and then he will open my coffin he will bend low until he is right above my form. He will whisper a prayer that only I can hear. With tears nearly blinding him, he will slowly bring the knife up, clasping the handle between both hands. He will turn his reddened eyes to the bright blue autumn sky, searching for God's grace. Though deep within him, he doubts that heaven will ever receive him. Stuckley, you fool. He will take a deep breath and The knife into my heart. Why?

He believes it will save you, but it will only haunt him as I haunt you now. Why do you haunt me now? In this great dream beyond the veil, we can be whomever we wanted to be, but could not when we lived. We can travel far, see what we could only have dreamed.

of. And Mother, we've dreamed for so, so. Father and Caleb will be devastated. But one day, sooner than you could believe, they will join us on our great adventure. She reached out her hand to me. How I'd long to hold it just once more. Join me, Mother, and find life in the great big world of the dead. There is no more need to suffer, to toil, to stitch and mend and cook and clean. What else could I do then? My body was wasted.

My mind feverish. This world was wearing so thin. With an open heart, I reached for her hand. I hope you enjoyed today's episode of LOR Alive. This episode and series was made possible by Warby Parker. Before Warby Parker, I had to do that thing that we all hate to do, which is stand in front of a wall of frames and find the needle in the haystack. Just trying to buy glasses shouldn't require a spreadsheet,

and that's why I am obsessed with Warby Parker. Nothing else comes close on quality, price selection, and customer service. Once you buy from Warby Parker, you'll realize how much easier they've made the entire process. Their virtual try-on has made it possible for me to skip those eye doctor showrooms entirely, since I can literally try-on glasses from my phone before I buy them. And I mean that. I've tried other virtual try-ons that feel pretty janky, but with Warby Parker, you can genuinely tell how the frames are going to look and fit. Warby Parker glasses start at $95 and include prescription lenses with anti-reflective scratch-resistant coatings.

They use premium materials in each frame, design every frame in-house, and have a collection of silhouettes, colors, and fits for every face. Me, I wear progressive lenses, which are more complicated to get just right, but Warby Parker nailed it, and these glasses are absolutely amazing. They look and fit so great. Right now, buy one pair of glasses and get 20% off any additional pairs at Warbyparker.com slash lore. That's 20% off any additional pairs when you purchase one pair at W-A-R-B-Y, Parker.com slash lore. To answer the questions that I'll inevitably get after this episode, the story of Stucley-Tillingass's dream of his orchard dine and the subsequent deaths of many of his children are all part of the historical record.

In fact, I've stood inside their graveyard, which is located in Exeter, Rhode Island. The Tilling-S family, as far as we know, were the first family in New England to endure the bizarre ritual referred to by some as a therapeutic exhumation, although they wouldn't be the last. Desperate people, after all, are easily swayed by fear, and they'll do unthinkable things as a result. The Tillingast family remains a powerful example of that. An audio project like this is obviously a team effort, and there are a lot of humans to give credit to. For starters, Laura Live was created by me, Aaron Mankey, and it was written and directed by Nicholas Tocke, of 13 Days of Halloween and Havocetown fame. This week's episode, star Jay Garrett Mitchell as Stucley, Amanda Coocher as Elizabeth, and Sarah Palm as Sarah. This episode was recorded by Blake Long with post-production and sound design by Brandon Gruggle from Atypical Artists.

Our show was produced by Nicholas Tocosky and me, Aaron Mankey, with special thanks to Lauren Shippin from Atypical Artists. I hope you've enjoyed this Halloween treat, and I promise no tricks that you'll get another one next Friday. And until then, stay spooky.