A knock on metal. Then another. Then a breath we didn’t make. Our return to Goodrich Cemetery in Bruce Township spiraled from a routine night investigation into a layered mystery where human history collides with something that refuses to act human. We followed names—Thomas, Timothy, Catherine—through Find a Grave while the cemetery answered with loud hits on the truck, a clear male scream on playback, and a shadow that slipped between headstones like it knew the map better than we did.

We unpack the original “crawler” encounter near the flagpole—eyes like snowy TV screens, a long body that rose and watched—and compare it with fresh activity: running footfalls around the vehicle, tree branches snapping without wind, and that unmistakable breathing while both of us stood outside with the doors locked. The language shifted too. Replies referenced crossing over, “hidden here,” and then darker markers: lizard man, Abaddon, scythe, banshee, even “El Cucuy,” pointing us from standard ghost lore toward elemental or cryptid territory. Our friend Tom’s theory of a localized, non-human entity gained traction as we asked direct questions about origin, boundaries, and whether this land carries a curse.

Between jolts, we kept the method honest. Raw audio, minimal editing, side-by-side phone debunks, and a working map of family plots across a cemetery that feels larger once you step inside. We set clear safety lines—love and light only, no attachments—and outlined next steps: county records, plat maps, daytime surveys, fixed cameras on the flagpole quadrant, and a controlled return on a moonless night to test the “when” just as much as the “where.” If Goodridge holds both veterans and boogeymen, we want to document how those layers meet.

Hit play for the field recordings, the living research, and our evolving theory on whether Goodrich is haunted by the dead—or inhabited by something older. If you’ve walked those rows or captured evidence nearby, share your story, subscribe for the follow-up, and leave a review with your take on what we caught.

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