Episode 85: The Lady of Bradley Woods
As they say, kids will be kids, which I guess means that ghosts will be ghosts…
Episode Transcript:
There is a ghost story in my family that has been passed down for generations. Settling in rural Georgia, my husband’s grandmother told her children about the legend of soap Sally.
She was, supposedly a wicked little thing, though you wouldn’t have known it at first. Because by day this soap sally was just an ordinary neighbor—one who played a vital role within this small southern community. Or at least she did when my husband’s grandmother was growing up.
Evidently during her life, Soap Sally lived in a large house up on a hill near the local swimming pool. And as her name would suggest, she found work washing clothes and garments for the entire town.
Her yard was decorated with linen on clotheslines that would often swirl around on a summer breeze. So in the light of day, Soap Sally and her home were a snapshot of quintessential Southern living.
But as the night would descend soap Sally would trade the warmth of sunlight for the glow of a fire. She had three large cauldrons that would set atop the blaze which she would use to concoct detergents for her work. But this wasn’t just any ordinary soap.
So the legend goes, Soap Sally would walk that small little town in the dead of night collecting children who were out and about after dark. She would take them kicking and screaming back to that house up on the hill, She would murder them, then use their bodies to make the very soap that she was named after.
So it became quite common for the parents in this town to warn their children about this legend. You better be home before dark, be sure to mind your mother, or be soap Sally might come to get you.
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It’s been nearly ten years since the first time I heard the legend of soap Sally. But even then, it was the first time I had heard this story. I mean, I’m sure we’re all familiar with this particular narrative—whether it be from stories renowned at the boogeyman to legends as secluded as the southern towns they were formed in.
Yes, as it would seem, nearly every little town across America—maybe even around the world—has a ghost story meant to haunt local teens into good behavior. That honestly kind of makes sense. After all, kids will be kids, which I guess means that ghosts will be ghosts.
I’m Courtney Hayes and you’re listening to Haunts stay tuned
Nestled on the outskirts of Lincolnshire, England, sits an area known as Bradley Woods. Looking at it from a distance, all that you’d probably see is a quiet woodland—one complete with a small pond and a rustic-looking cottage on its banks.
Now it’s true that no one’s lived in this cottage for decades if not close to a century. And it does look a little out of place hiding between the trees of Bradley Woods. But again, at least to the untrained eye, this dilapidated dwelling might seem peaceful, quaint—like it may have once held the keys to a simple life that was worth celebrating.
Of course, not everyone shares in that sentiment. I mean, it would be hard to if you grew up in the area—if you knew the stories that they told about this house, about Bradley Woods.
So while the area might be popular amongst local kids during the daylight hours, those very children will come running home as soon as the sun begins to fade. Only they aren’t rushing into town out of an obedient desire to make it back before curfew. No instead, they’re running from the lady of Bradley Woods.
Like I said at the top of the episode, it seems like every town, every community has its own legend of a ghostly figure who prays on local teens. Even ones as densely populated as Lincolnshire, England. So I hope you won't mind if this week, I share a story with you that may sound a bit familiar.
Back in the 1640s, according to the legends at least, a family lived in that little cottage there by the pond in Bradley Woods. He was a woodsman, his wife a dutiful homemaker, and the mother of their infant child.
For years they were happy living in that little cottage. But then came the dark days when the woodsman was conscripted into military service. His wife clutched their baby in her arms, walking alongside the woodsman until they reached the tree line, then she watched as he walked away, disappearing over the horizon and onto war.
For months, she made that same walk to the tree line. Keeping a close eye on the horizon watching her husband’s eventual return. And all the while, she held their baby in her arms rocking him and waiting for a sign that never came.
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On New Year's days of the following year, the woman was going about her usual routine. Bundling up her baby, and herself to fend off the January cold, she stepped outside with intentions of taking her walk out to the tree line.
She didn’t make it very far from her front door when she and her baby came across three horsemen. At first, I’m sure this may have been a hopeful—maybe the horseman’s arrival was the sign she had been waiting for all these months.
But alas, none of these horsemen turned out to be her husband. On the contrary, they were soldiers of the enemy, and as such they had vile intentions for the woman and her child. So if you’d like to skip ahead a bit now’s the time.
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You see right there in Bradley woods, no more than a stone's throw away from this little cottage, the three horsemen robbed the woman blind. They beat her and defiled her, then to add insult to injury they took her baby from her arms and road away—disappearing into a dense thicket of trees.
So there she was, lying beating and broken on the forest floor. At first, she had lost her husband and now her baby had been stolen from her grasp. And as she sat there wailing into the wind, it was obvious that she had nothing left to lose.
Ever since that ill-fated day, the lady of Bradley Woods began to dress all in black. She would wander the woods day in and day out, crying as she searched now both for her husband as well as her stolen child.
As the years went on, the lady gained a reputation for being, well, mad. At first, no one could really blame, nor did they go out of their way to avoid Bradley Woods. That is until she began to accost anyone traveling through the area.
She would outright demand answers. Who had stolen her baby, where had her husband gone? And if the travelers didn’t know any better, it seemed like she was accusing them of being the source of her hardship.
So eventually, Lincolnshire locals began to avoid Bradley Woods altogether and they would tell their children to do the same. After all, if she was mad enough to believe that just any weary traveler was the very same who stole her child, then she must have been grief-stricken enough to mistake any child for her own.
So in the end, the children of Lincolnshire, like their parents, began to steer clear of those woods and the lady who lived within them, particularly during the nighttime hours, which conveniently coincided with their curfews.
But that suited the children just fine. After all, they wouldn’t want to be taken by the lady of Bradley Woods.
Like any good piece of folklore, the legend of the lady of Bradley Woods comes with a few discrepancies.
There are some who claim that the entity lurking outside of Lincolnshire is in fact the old spinster said to haunt local children who venture into these woods after dark. Then there are those who claim the spirit is that of a nun who once lived in an abbey not far from that old cottage.
But perhaps the most bewildering claim is the one stating that the lady of Bradley Woods isn’t actually a lady at all. Instead, they say that this entity is actually a beast—one none too similar to Bigfoot himself.
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I know what you must be thinking. How in the world could anyone mistake the ghost of a mournful woman for a creature as elusive as a Sasquatch? It’s a valid question, one that I’ve been asking myself since I started researching this topic. Especially when I came across a photograph of this so-called beast.
Now I’ll be honest, this photo certainly presents more questions than answers. So before we go any further, I think it’s worth turning the discussion over to you. So take a minute, pause the episode, and go check out the links I have listed down in the show notes. Oh and don’t forget to let me know what you think when you get back.
Okay so maybe now you see what I mean. This photo taken out in Bradley Woods does little to settle the argument. I mean if you ask me, this image captures nothing more than what I would describe as a black mass—so it’s hard to say if this shadow is that of a ghost, a cryptid, or just an evergreen tree.
But regardless of what’s in that picture, it doesn’t change the fact that Bradley Woods is feared by the children of Lincolnshire. And for good reason too.
I mean, what could be more terrifying than the idea of a ghost who lures children into the woods in the dead of night? Even if it is just a bunch of hocus pocus—that would be enough to make anyone think twice about venturing into the trees after sundown.
Which I guess means that the legend serves its purpose. After all, I can’t imagine any parent would think it safe for their children to be wandering the woods after dark. Whether that be there in Lincolnshire or any of the other towns with a haunt just like this. So really it only makes sense for those parents to conjure a spirit, to tell their children a ghost story that’s somehow even more haunting than the dangers that lie in wait just beyond the tree line.