Vivid Nightmares
Hosted by Bridgett Denise, where Southern charm meets chilling darkness.
Step into the shadows of the American South with Vivid Nightmares, a true crime and paranormal podcast that uncovers the region’s most disturbing unsolved cases, forgotten murders, eerie folklore, and haunted history. Hosted by Bridgett, a Southern-born true crime storyteller with a passion for the strange and sinister, each episode dives deep into the darkest corners of the South—blending historical research, personal theories, and haunting audio to leave you chilled long after the credits roll.
From abandoned asylums and backroad legends to infamous killers and mysteries lost to time, Vivid Nightmares offers immersive, atmospheric storytelling that honors the victims, questions the evidence, and dares to explore the unexplained.
New episodes every Friday.
Because in the South, the past never stays buried.
Vivid Nightmares
The women were feared for their power and remembered for their curses.
We dive into the hidden histories of southern women branded as witches, exploring the conjurers, root workers, midwives, and healers whose legacies live on in Southern folklore despite attempts to bury their stories and silence their power.
• Julia Brown of Frenier, Louisiana, whose prophecy "I'm gonna die and take the whole town with me" came true when a hurricane destroyed the town on the day of her funeral
• The Witch of Yazoo City, Mississippi, who cursed the town to burn 20 years after her death—and whose grave remains chained to this day
• Molly Dyer of Hood County, Texas, whose burning death created a haunted hillside where her spirit still manifests
• The influential Root Doctor of the South Carolina Low Country whose powerful hoodoo practices earned both fear and respect
• New perspectives on the famous Bell Witch haunting that suggest it may have been about female power, not supernatural entities
• Mama Dell of Monroeville, Alabama, a mysterious midwife who vanished when threatened, yet whose presence is still felt in the swamps
If you enjoyed tonight's episode, share it with someone who's got crystals in their car, a tarot deck in their bag, and isn't afraid of a little swamp smoke. Send your own haunted family tales to vividnightmarespod@gmail.com or find me on Instagram and TikTok @VividNightmaresPod.
Hey y'all, welcome back to Vivid Nightmares. I'm your host, Bridget Denise, and tonight we're going deep into the stories. Southern history tried to bury the women it feared. The healers it turned into monsters, the conjurers it whispered about but never truly forgot. Some were midwives, some practiced root work, but never truly forgot. Some were midwives, some practiced root work, some just had the nerve to stand tall, smart and unbothered, in a time when that was enough to get you branded dangerous and when something went wrong the crops failed, the baby got sick, the storm rolled in. These women were the first to be blamed and the last to be mourned.
Speaker 1:This episode is about the southern witches, root workers and wise women who left a legacy soaked in moss, mist and mystery. Some of them were feared for what they did. Some were feared for what folks imagined they could do, but either way, they made sure their names were never forgotten. Grab your salt, light your candles and, whatever you do, don't break the circle. Let's start with a woman who sang her own prophecy and brought a storm with her final breath, way down in the swampy stretch between New Orleans and Baton Rouge, where Spanish moss drips like whispers and the land hums with old secrets. Strips like whispers and the land hums with old secrets. There lived a woman named Julia Brown. Now, depending on who you ask, julia was either a healer or a hex.
Speaker 1:She lived in the tiny settlement of Frenier in the early 1900s, a town surrounded by swamps, sawgrass and silence. Julia was a root worker, a woman who understood herbs, poultices, prayers. She delivered babies, healed snake bites, made teas that cured coughs, and teas that maybe kept your man faithful. But over time the people of Frenier started treating her more like a tool than a neighbor. They came to her when they needed something and then they'd turn their backs. So Julia, being Julia, started singing Not church hymns, not lullabies. She'd sit on her porch, rocking back and forth and sing things like one day I'm gonna die and take the whole town with me, creepy, right. But folks didn't listen, or if they did, they laughed it off. Old woman talk, swamp superstition.
Speaker 1:Until September 29, 1915, the day Julia Brown died, a hurricane hit, and not just a storm a monster. Winds over 100 miles per hour, waves that swallowed the land. Whole towns, Frenia included, were wiped off the map. Almost every resident was killed. The cemetery was destroyed. Bodies were never recovered, and guess whose funeral they were preparing when the storm hit hit Julia Brown's. Rescue workers later said her coffin was found floating in the swamp alone, upright untouched. I mean, if that's not power, I don't know what is. To this day, the land where Fenya once stood is ghost town quiet. To this day, the land where Fenya once stood is ghost town, quiet.
Speaker 1:Locals say you can still hear humming in the trees, especially near the old cypress grove. Sometimes it's soft, sometimes it's right behind you. Paranormal teams have picked up whispers, emf spikes and sudden drops in temperature around the old train tracks near Lake Pontchartrain. Some say Julie's still there watching, not mad, not vengeful, just reminding folks not to forget her. Julia warned them and when she left she made sure they remembered who had the real power.
Speaker 1:Next we're heading to Mississippi, where a chained grave still tries to hold back a woman the whole town feared, even in death. Next stop on this hex little tour Yazoo City, mississippi. Now look, if a town chains down someone's grave, that's usually a clue that something went very, very wrong and in this case it's a whole legend built around one woman, one curse and a whole lot of fear. Let's rewind Back in the late 1800s. There was a woman who lived alone in the swamps just outside of Yazoo. No name, no church records, just stories. Locals said she was strange, didn't talk to anyone, never came to town unless it was for supplies, and even then she'd vanish before sundown. And of course, because she was a woman alone and confident, folks started calling her a witch Shocking I know A woman who minds her business. Definitely gotta be supernatural.
Speaker 1:Anyway, one day two boys go missing. A search party goes out into the swamp and they say they find the witch's shack Inside the boys' bodies. Now listen, there's no proof this ever happened, it's pure legend. But the story goes that the townspeople chased her through the swamp and just before they caught her she cursed them With her last breath. She screamed in 20 years I will return and burn this town to the ground. They caught her. They caught her, hanged her, buried her in Glenwood Cemetery in an unmarked grave, but just in case, they chained it shut, literally wrapped heavy iron chains around the tomb.
Speaker 1:And then, 20 years later 1904, a massive fire broke out in Yazoo City. The flames tore through 200 homes and almost every business downtown. The courthouse burned, the bank collapsed, even the jail went up in smoke. No known cause, no lightning, no faulty wiring, just fire and chaos. Townsfolk rushed to the cemetery the next morning. They found the chains around the witch's grave snapped, twisted metal stone cracked open and y'all they replaced the chains. To this day, glenwood Cemetery keeps the witch's grave locked down Fresh chains. Glenwood Cemetery keeps the witch's grave locked down, fresh chains bolted tight.
Speaker 1:The city even leans into the legend. Tour guides will walk you straight to it, but folks who've lingered too long Say they feel watched. Phones die, voices whisper and one woman a paranormal investigator said she caught a voice on her recorder that simply said I warned you Honestly, if she did burn the place down, she was punctual, real witch, angry spirit or just a woman who got tired of being underestimated. Either way, the chain stayed Coming up. Next we're heading west to Texas, where another woman's story ended in fire, but her ghost never left the land that betrayed her. We're heading west now into the hill country of Texas, where fire and fear turned a woman into a ghost and a ghost into a legend.
Speaker 1:This is the story of Molly Dyer, a name still whispered in and around Hood County, especially near Granbury. Now, like a lot of Southern witch stories, this one has layers Truth, legend, a little of both. What's clear is that Molly lived out past town in a small wooden cabin alone. She was a healer, a midwife and, some say, a witch. The people came to her when they needed help Sick babies, bleeding wounds, wives in labor and she helped Every time Until something went wrong. One story says a prominent townsperson's child died after Molly treated them. Another says the crops failed and folks needed someone to blame. It's always the women who don't beg for approval that end up blamed. Whatever the reason, the whispers turned violent. A group of townsfolk stormed her cabin one night, dragged her out, accused her of witchcraft and, according to legend, burned her alive on the hillside behind her home. Some say she cursed them with her dying breath. Others say she didn't speak at all, just screamed and screamed until the wind swallowed her voice. The next morning her charred body was found sprawled across the hilltop, ashes scattered, eyes still open.
Speaker 1:And that hill has never been the same. Locals call it Molly's Hill. Animals won't go near it, fires won't light there, some say. At night you can see her silhouette, arms outstretched, flames licking her skin, still crying out for justice. Ghost hunters have picked up high EMF readings and disembodied females sobbing. Visitors report sudden heat even in the dead of winter and more than one person claims they've seen a woman, burned and blackened, just standing in the tree line waiting. And then there's the wind People say it howls differently on that hill, sharp, personal, like it's, carrying her voice. There's no grave for Molly Dyer, no marker, no apology, but the town remembers her, whether they admit it or not, and the land, the land, never forgot. Sometimes the fire doesn't cleanse, it scorches the truth so deep into the earth you can still hear it scream.
Speaker 1:Next we're heading to the Low Country, where conjure and communion are sacred traditions and one woman held power in the roots and the bones. Our next story brings us to the South Carolina Low Country, a place thick with Spanish moss, gullah, tradition and ancestral memory, and in the town of Beaufort. If you listen to the right folks, they'll tell you about the Root Doctor. Now, there wasn't just one. Root Doctor is a title passed down, not just a name, but one woman in particular. She left a mark so deep the soil still won't let it go.
Speaker 1:They say she was born sometime in the 1930s, maybe earlier, on St Helena Island. No birth certificate, no formal education, but she knew things. Things about people, about pain, about power. She practiced hoodoo not to be confused with voodoo, by the way. Root work passed down through African native and black southern traditions. She used herbs, chants, bible verses, bones, oils and intention. People came to her for everything love spells, protection, hex removals, even business success. And listen, church folks would talk trash about her on Sunday but visit her by Monday when their luck turned bad. Southern hypocrisy, immaculate, truly. Now. She never advertised, never wrote anything down. If she didn't like you, you didn't get help. Some say she kept her tools in a hollowed out Bible. Others say she wore white and never touched anyone without praying over them first. And some folks feared her, not because she hurt people but because she could.
Speaker 1:There's one story that gets told a lot around Beaufort. A man tried to stiff her, said she was a fraud after she cured his daughter of an unknown illness. Two days later he lost his voice, literally. Doctors found nothing wrong. He could whisper, grunt, but never speak again. And when someone asked her about it she allegedly said I didn't take his voice. He gave it away when he called me a liar After she passed in the early 2000s.
Speaker 1:Folks say the energy around her cabin never settled, lights flicker, owls gather at night there's even an old iron kettle out back, rusted shut, that no one's been able to move. Some say her spirit is still watching, making sure no one uses her name in vain, and others, well, they still leave offerings, coins, candles, crossroads, dirt. Because in the low country you don't play around with root work and you always respect the ones who know the earth better than you do. She didn't need a broom or a black cat, just her roots, her rituals and the spine to use them Up. Next we're heading back to Tennessee, where the infamous Bell Witch may not have acted alone. You've probably heard of the Bell Witch.
Speaker 1:One of the most famous poltergeist stories in American history Takes place in Adams, tennessee, early 1800s. But tonight we're not just talking about the haunting. We're talking about the women behind the whispers, because maybe, just maybe, this wasn't about a ghost at all. Maybe it was about power, and the kind of power women weren't supposed to have. Let's go back.
Speaker 1:John Bell was a wealthy farmer in Tennessee In the early 1800s. His family began experiencing strange occurrences Knocks on the walls, blankets pulled off the bed, whispers at night. His daughter, betsy Bell, was the main target. She claimed to be slapped, pinched, even stuck with pins by an invisible force. They called it the Bell Witch. The entity supposedly spoke and get this. It talked a lot scripture, gossip, curses. It hated John Bell, wanted him dead, said it out loud and eventually John Bell did die, foaming at the mouth with an open vial of mysterious black liquid nearby. And that should have been the end of the story.
Speaker 1:But here's where it gets interesting. There was a woman in town named Kate Batts. She was strong-willed, outspoken and owned property which you know in the 1800s basically made her public enemy. First she had a long-standing feud with John Bell over land and after the haunting started the voice reportedly called itself Old Kate. Now some historians and, let's be real, some deeply suspicious neighbors thought Kate Batts was behind it all, Not by magic but by manipulation. They believed she might have influenced Betsy.
Speaker 1:Encouraged whispers in the dark played into a tale that unraveled the Bell family from the inside out. Others say no, kate was just a scapegoat, that the real root was abuse inside the Bell household and the witch was a way to scream without using words. But here's another layer. There's evidence that Betsy's mother, lucy Bell, may have known more than she ever said. She was quiet, gentle, but during the haunting. The spirit always protected her, brought her fruit when she was sick, sang to her and y'all spirits don't usually play favorites. Was Lucy the real voice behind it all, trying to shield her daughter from something darker? Was this a poltergeist or a rebellion wrapped in ghost story clothing? We'll never know for sure. But what we do know is this the Bell Witch never targeted the men. After John died, it faded away like its work was finished. Maybe it was a spirit, maybe it was revenge, maybe it was the only way a woman could speak truth without being punished for it.
Speaker 1:And we're closing out tonight with one last story, a haunting from Alabama, about a midwife who brought life into the world until the world turned on her. Down in the marshes just outside of Monroeville, alabama, there's an old tale folks used to tell when the nights got too still, about a woman known only as Mama Dell. About a woman known only as Mama Dell. Now nobody knows if that was her real name or just what people started calling her. What they do remember is that she was a midwife, a healer and, to some, a witch.
Speaker 1:Mama Dell lived deep in the swamp, a single-room cabin half-sunk into the earth, built from driftwood and rusted nails. She didn't go into town unless summoned, didn't take money, didn't speak unless spoken to. But when babies wouldn't turn, when fevers wouldn't break, when the preacher's prayers fell short, they called Mama Del and she came. Mama Dell, and she came. She'd show up barefoot with a burlap bag of herbs and tools, her silver hair wrapped in red cloth and eyes that didn't blink when she looked at you. And the thing is, she got results. Women stopped bleeding, sick children walked again. Some even say she touched the dead and they breathed. But the more she healed, the more they whispered, said she talked to trees, kept bones in jars, could steal your shadow if you crossed her. And when the crops failed one year they turned on her, said.
Speaker 1:She cursed the land, blamed her for miscarriages, bad luck, even a pastor's heart attack. A group of men came to her cabin one night, torches in hand. They say she stood there silent until the flames reached her porch. Then she looked up and said I brought life into this world and y'all gonna repay me with fire. They say she vanished just like that, gone into the mist. The cabin burned but nobody was found no bones, no ash, just smoke and a red cloth floating on the water. The next morning.
Speaker 1:Today, the land where Mama Dell lived is fenced off, but people still leave offerings on the gate Tiny shoes, bundles of rosemary, a doll wrapped in cloth, and if you walk too close to the tree line, you might hear humming or see a woman in red standing just beyond the fog watching waiting. And if you're pregnant, turn around, because Mama Del never forgot a child, even the ones who never made it out. She delivered life, they delivered fear, and when she left this world she took the swamp with her. And that y'all wraps up this week's circle of stories here on Vivid Nightmares. We walked with the curse singing Julia Brown in the Louisiana swamps, stared down the chained grave of the Witch of Yazoo, watched fire swallow the legacy of Molly Dyer, witnessed quiet power in the hands of a low-country root doctor, listened for the truth behind the Bell Witch legend and paid our respects to the ghost of Mama Del, whose hands brought life and still carry echoes of justice. These women weren't just witches. They were healers, caretakers, outsiders, mothers, warnings, and whether or not they had magic, they had power, and that's always been enough to scare people. If you enjoyed tonight's episode, share it with the person who's got crystals in their car, a tarot deck in their bag and ain't afraid of a little swamp smoke. Subscribe review.
Speaker 1:Send a voice memo of your own haunted family tale. You know, I'd love to hear it. You can find me on Instagram and TikTok and Vivid Nightmares Pod, or email your story to vividnightmarespod at gmailcom. I'm your host, bridget Denise, and whether it's a hex, a hush or a name carved into the wind, these women made sure they were remembered. But before you go, next week we're taking things roadside abandoned gas stations, haunted highways, hitchhiking phantoms. That's right, we're diving into roadside horror in the South. So keep your high beams on and never pick up a stranger near mile marker 13. I'll see you next Friday. Good night, y'all, and sweet vivid dreams.
