In New Jersey, deep in the Pine Barrens, the trees grow wrong and the earth hums with an old, broken magic. Ghost stories are stitched into the branches — stories of things born from curses, things that never should have lived. Lights dance in the distance, footsteps follow where no one walks, and the air smells of damp earth and something older… and fouler.
The Jersey Devil is only the beginning. The woods twist the lost into something else, something wild and hollow. Travelers speak of winged shadows overhead and screams that don’t belong to any living creature. In New Jersey, it’s not just ghosts you fear — it’s the land itself, alive and watching, birthing monsters from the darkness between the trees.