Thursday, 27 December 2012

Vampires in Serbia: unraveling fact from myth about Sava Savanović

I've only ever published two guest blog entries. The first was by Jane, a University of Texas at Austin student studying under noted vampire scholar, Thomas J. Garza (parts one and two). This is the second.

I was recently contacted by James M. B. Lyon–a political analyst with a Ph.D. in Balkan History from UCLA–asking if I'd be interested in reading and reviewing his 2012 novel, Kiss of the butterfly.

I don't usually read vampire novels as they're generally beyond the scope of what I cover on this blog. However, I was prepared to make an exception primarily because his work was favourably reviewed by Magia Postuma's Niels K. Petersen:
The backdrop of Serbia on the brink of war, the minutiae of history, geography and customs, combined with a well-crafted mix of fact in fiction in the findings of Steven’s vampire research makes it a fascinating read as well.
Lyon's novel is deeply rooted in Balkan vampire lore, even disclosing sources in his 'historical note' (pp. 376–8) that few writers of vampire non-fiction would even be aware of. What I'm saying is, when it comes to vampires, this guy knows his stuff. 

During our correspondence, I asked Lyon if he'd be interested in submitting a guest blog entry. He happily obliged with an article concerning recent news coverage of the Sava Savanović case in Serbia.1 What makes his contribution distinct from the usual news coverage, is that he was there.

In late November 2012, a story began to spread that the legendary Serbian vampire Sava Savanović was on the loose in the small mountain village of Zarožje. According to media reports, the watermill that Sava haunted had collapsed, the local villagers were in fear that Sava would seek a new home, the municipal council had issued an official warning telling people to put garlic and hawthorn branches above their doors, and the local price of garlic had skyrocketed.

The watermill at the bottom of the ravine, taken from the road on the hillside above.

Major international media began to carry the story: first the Austrian Times, then the Daily Mail, then AP, ABC News, AFP, the Guardian, Hindustan Times, Fox News, the Sun, Straits Times, Huffington Post, Yahoo, even National Geographic wrote a piece (poorly researched and written) about Sava. Although the Sava Savanović story was trending and generating substantial interest, after several days it was pushed off the front pages by news of the Royal Pregnancy.

The legend of the vampire Sava Savanović is well-known throughout the former Yugoslavia (Bosnia, Croatia, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia, Kosovo), due to a cult horror film from 1973 called Leptirica (Female Butterfly), and a novel by the Serbian author Milovan Glišić -- After Ninety Years – that was published in 1880, about 17 years before Bram Stoker's Dracula. Sava was said to haunt the local watermill, a trait common to vampires in Balkan folklore. And as is also common among many Balkan vampires, Sava not only drank blood, but also smothered/suffocated people to death.

On 8 December, I visited the Serbian village of Zarožje with a documentary camera crew and spoke with a number of villagers and visited the watermill that Sava Savanović is alleged to have haunted.

Zarožje is an isolated area located in the mountains of western Serbia between Valjevo and Bajina Bašta. It is not a typical village, but rather a series of homes spread along the mountainside. According to local residents, the first road to run through the area – connecting Bajina Bašta to Valjevo – was constructed in 1977, and electricity was strung to the village one year later, in 1978.

The watermill, taken from the stream bed, from the upstream side.

We drove to Zarožje through steady snowfall, and we were forced to leave our vehicle at a gas station on the main road, due to icy conditions on the steep, 4 kilometer side-road that led down the mountain to the watermill (doesn't that sound like the start of a good horror flick?). Along the way, we stopped most everyone we came across and asked their thoughts about the mill's collapse and the Sava Savanović legend. Some people laughed it off and said it was just an effort by Miodrag Vujetić, a local member of the Bajina Bašta Municipal Assembly (not mayor, as incorrectly reported in most media) to increase local tourism and drum up business for his gas station and restaurant on the main road (where we left our vehicle). Others mumbled uncertainly that it was nonsense. Yet others said they believed that Sava was still around. One man turned pale and ran away when we asked him about Sava. Some of the homes had garlic and hawthorn branches above the doorways to ward of vampires, and a couple of villagers actually carried garlic in their pockets. We asked everyone we met if they would spend the night in the old watermill. All said “no”. When we saw the actual physical state of the watermill, I understood that fear was not the only possible factor to motivate a negative response.

We asked about the alleged rise in garlic prices, and everyone said it was nonsense. The reason was simple: everyone grows their own garlic and has put away large quantities for the winter. When we asked about an official warning from the Bajina Bašta municipality, everyone laughed it off and said that the municipality had issued no such warning.

As we headed down the road toward the watermill, one villager ran out of his home and offered us a hawthorn wood stake for protection. When we finally got down the mountainside to the mill, we discovered that the roof had indeed collapsed inward, that one of the walls was bulging outwards, there was no longer a water wheel, and all that was left were the stone foundation, and three and a half walls. Inside, there were two sets of millstones, both exposed to the elements.

A close-up of the exterior of the watermill. The collapsed roof and bulging wall are clearly visible, and snow is inside.

We interviewed the mill's owner, Slobodan Jagodić, a very warm and open-hearted man, who invited us into his home, where he and his wife showered us with traditional Serbian hospitality, consisting of homemade šljivovica (plum brandy), bread, young cheese, and pihtija (pig-brains jello). Slobodan told us that after 1978, the watermill had fallen into disuse, as villagers purchased electric mills, and he had not maintained it. I taped over an hour of conversation with Slobodan, who told us the details of the Sava Savanović legend as told in Zarožje. I should note that their home had garlic and hawthorn above the door.

The interior of the watermill. Two sets of millstones are clearly visible, one in the foreground (bottom left) on the floor, the other in the back (center right), standing on its side.

Later on, we interviewed Municipal Assembly member Vujetić, who confirmed to us that no official warning had been issued, but that he, as a concerned local citizen, was urging people to take measures to protect themselves. He showed us some garlic he was carrying in his pocket and even obliged us by eating a clove of raw garlic. He came across as an effective chamber-of-commerce style spokesman, who is doing everything he can to boost the local tourism industry.

James Lyon standing in front of the watermill, taken from the downstream side.

Before I recount Slobodan Jagodić’s version of the Sava Savanović legend, permit me to share with you an old Serbian folk saying:

“Neither am I lying to you,
Nor am I telling you the truth.
He who lied was the one who told me.”

“Нити лажем
нити истину кажем.
Онај лаже који ми каже”

Slobodan told me that he heard the story from his grandfather, who heard it from his grandfather, who heard it from his grandfather, and that no one knows for certain when it all took place, but that is was at least three hundred years ago.

As with any good vampire tale, the story of Sava Savanović involves love. Local lore holds that Sava never married, and that in his later years when he had become rather ugly, he fell in love with a much younger girl who spurned his advances. One day while she was tending sheep, he once again proposed to her, but she again declined, and turned her back on him. Angered at this, he pulled out his pistol and shot her in the back, killing her. Unbeknown to Sava, his brother Stanko had suspected he was up to no good and had followed him. When Sava shot the girl, Stanko jumped out of the bushes and tried to apprehend him. The noise of the gunshot attracted shepherds, who saw the two men fighting and assumed it was a traveler being attacked by a bandit. When Stanko saw the shepherds, he feared trouble, so he ran off towards the forest, leaving Sava. The shepherds thought Stanko was the guilty party and shot at him with their rifles, killing him. When the local villagers realized what had actually happened, they beat Sava to death with hoes and mattocks and buried him near the scene of the murder, as they did not wish to have a murderer buried in the local cemetery. Shortly thereafter, rumors began to circulate that Sava was seen wandering about in the village in the evenings and had become a vampire.

The vampire killed people in Zarojže for years and years and no one knew who the vampire was, so they couldn’t find his grave and kill him. There was a young man from the village of Ovčinje named Strahinja, and there was a wealthy farmer in Zarojže with a very beautiful daughter named Radojka. Strahinja fell in love with Radojka, but he was very poor, and her father was strong and powerful and wouldn’t let his daughter marry Strahinja, even though Radojka loved him. So Strahinja thought about what he could do, and one day he came to Zarožje and asked the people to let him be the miller for one night in the watermill. They didn’t want to let him, because anyone who spent the night in the watermill was killed. At the urging of Radojka’s father – who thought it would be a good way to get rid of this unwanted suitor – the villagers permitted Strahinja to spend the night at the watermill.

Strahinja came to the mill before dark, took a tree stump and some bags and wrapped them in a blanket and put them next to the fire so that it would look as though he were asleep. Strahinja then hid up in the rafters of the mill and watched. The mill was grinding away, when suddenly, in the middle of the night, the door of the mill opened all by itself and a large, horrible man appeared in front of the doorway and entered the mill. As he entered, he spoke out loud to himself saying “a good dinner for me”. Watching this, Strahinja was overcome with fear. The vampire bent over to suck the blood of the sleeping man and discovered it was a tree stump, not a person. Then he exclaimed loudly “Since I became Sava Savanović, I have never gone without dinner, but tonight I’ve gone without dinner”.

From his perch in the rafterss, Strahinja shot at the vampire with his rifle, and Sava disappeared. Strahinja then came down and continued to mill grain throughout the night. In the morning, the entire village came down to the watermill, expecting to find Strahinja dead. Instead, they found Strahinja sitting on the doorstep of the mill, smiling. Radojka’s father asked him how he survived, and asked if he had learned the vampire’s name. Strahinja told him that the vampire’s name was Sava Savanović. Since Strahinja had saved the village from the vampire, Radojka’s father gave him permission to marry his daughter.

But because the vampire was so old, no one in the village knew where Sava’s grave was -- not even the very oldest people -- so they had no way of killing him. There was an old grandmother in Ovčinje named Mirjana, and the villagers went and asked her what to do. But Mirjana was hard of hearing, so the person with the loudest voice shouted at her. She told them that the vampire’s grave was in a crooked ravine, under a spreading Elm tree, but that they wouldn’t be able to find it on their own.

Mirjana told them to take a black stallion without any marks and follow it, and they would find the vampire’s grave at the spot where the stallion starts to dig with its hooves. She told them to take a sharpened hawthorn stake, lots of garlic, and a priest with holy water. They did as Mirjana instructed and followed the black stallion, until the horse started to whiny and dig with its hooves, and then they began to dig and did, until they came to a coffin.

After they had raised the vampire Sava’s coffin from the grave, the bravest man in the village wielded the sharpened hawthorn stake. The villagers pried open the coffin, while the stake-wielder and the priest stood by. As they opened the coffin, they found Sava lying there, with one eye open and the other eye closed. All the villagers shook with fear, but the brave man lunged and drove the stake through the vampire’s chest. Then the priest started forward to pour holy water on the vampire, but he slipped and spilled it onto the earth. Just then, a large butterfly flew from out of Sava’s lips and he was never seen again.

After that, Sava did not appear to bother anyone for a while, but even so, no one dared spend the night in the watermill. Some time later, a butterfly began troubling people, particularly babies and small children, and even though the villagers had women-conjurors protect the children, some of the children died. It is felt that Sava lives on in the shape of a butterfly, and that he continues to haunt the mill.

Thus ends Slobodan Jagodic’s tale.

I'd like to thank James for taking the time to write and submit his excellent contribution to this blog. Very informative; very insightful. 

Lyon's debunking of the Zarožje vampire scare is echoed by Moonlight's 'An accurate reporting on the Serbian government issuing a vampire warning'.

You can buy Lyon's novel, Kiss of the butterfly (2012), on Amazon for US$3.99–but you'll need a Kindle (or to download a free app) to read it, as it's not available in print form. Yet. It's a great read. If you're into vampire lore, you'll want to add it to your collection.

1. J Lyon, 'Re: Visiting Zarožje and Kisiljevo‏', email, Wednesday, 26 December 2012 3:55:13 AM. The photos–all under James Lyon's copyright–were sent separately.

Wednesday, 26 December 2012

Found in translation

Firstly I wish you either a belated Merry Christmas–or a concurrent Merry Christmas–depending on which side of the globe you're on. Hope you got lots of presents. Good ones.

I got an unexpected treat from a bloke named Okan Akkoyunlu. He added me as a friend on Facebook. I'd never heard of the guy. No mutual acquaintances, nothing. Nonetheless, I decided to take a punt and added him anyway.  He responded with this:
Thanks for the add and merry Christmas Anthony :). Here's the link to my facebook page about vampires in Turkish language, and you can see two of your articles about "being a vampirologist" translated into Turkish and placed on the page. I hope you comment on these posts and like the page too to let interested readers get in contact with you too on facebook as well.
I checked out his Facebook page. Sure enough, two blog entries I'd written had been translated into Turkish (here and here). Both were blog entries I'd written for VampChix: 'Why I'm an amateur vampirologist' (notes) and 'So you want to be a vampirologist' (notes), respectively.

To my knowledge, it's the first time any of my writings have been translated into another language. I'm hugely flattered by that–just the thought that someone went out of their way to translate something I'd written, so they share it with others. Isn't that fantastic? What a marvellous Christmas surprise!

And dear readers, I've got a very special treat coming up for you shortly. A guest blog entry! In the meantime, I wish a safe and Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones. Enjoy the holiday festivities and don't be crushed in the Boxing Day rush!

Tuesday, 18 December 2012

The original Dracula cover

While browsing through my live feed, I noticed someone from Wiesbaden, Hessen had stumbled upon my blog by searching 'original book cover dracula'.

So, I figure, why not help them out? Here's what the original cover of Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897) looked like:

Fine Books & Collections

It was published by Archibald Constable and Company, though there's some dispute about the precise date of publication (day and month, not year; though 26 May is the standard)–and a Colonial edition may have preceded it. Id be surprised if that was the case, though. As it stands, this is the official one. 

On 5 April 2012, Constable released a facsimile edition of the 1897 original, amended with an introduction by Colm Tóibín. What's not so well-known, is that the company produced an abridged version of the book in 1901. However, according to, 'It is unknown whether the changes were made by Stoker or by an editor at Constable.'

Hope that helps, anonymous from Wiesbaden, Hessen!

The eBay experience

I don't use eBay much these days–why bother, when I can bulk buy on Amazon or use free shipping sites?–nonetheless, I do browse it from time to time.

Ebay's primary virtue, to me, is the rarity of the items it sometimes hosts. Case-in-point: Dracula: truth and terror (left), a 1996 CD-ROM featuring the late Raymond T. McNally. Many will recognise him as the co-author of In search of Dracula (1972; 1994). 

I first heard about the CD-ROM in Elizabeth Miller's Dracula: sense & nonsense (2000). She critiqued the accuracy of a statement made in it. So, it's not an essential work–hell, I'm wondering how I'm even going to view it on my computer–but a curio. 

According to Entertainment Weekly's review, the CD-ROM 'features an annotated, searchable version of Bram Stoker's Dracula; several ''real'' vampire biographies, like that of medieval Transylvania's Vlad the Impaler; and an interactive map of vampire myths and happenings.' 

It adds, 'But because these elements aren't interwoven, the CD-ROM remains little more than a coffee-table book, albeit a fascinating one.' Awesome.

Anyway, I purchased the item on 6 December for US $25 (AU $23.71) plus US $1.99 (AU $1.89) shipping. It arrived yesterday. The CD-ROM was safely enclosed in several layers of tight packaging. However, it didn't have a cover. I doublechecked the listing and noticed something I missed toward the end:
We strive to cut costs to be able to offer you the best deal on your discs. We found that we can offer .99 shipping if we ship the disc to you without the original packaging. So we remove the disc from the original case and put it in a protective window sleeve, we then ship it to you in a thick DVD mailer for supreme protection. This auction is for the original disc only. There will be no case included.
Always scrutinise the listing, folks! Nonetheless, I wanted to see if I could still get the cover. I contacted the item's seller–starcds_com–to see if that was possible (18-Dec-12 00:20:52 AEDST):
Good morning,

I got the disc today - and it's fine. I didn't realise till after re-reading your description that I wouldn't be getting the cover with it. But that's my oversight. All good. But can I ask - what happens to its original packaging? Do you still have it or has it been thrown away?
It's always a risk sending follow-up messages like that. You never know how they'll respond. I was ready to report them if they responded with something rude. Instead, I got this (18-Dec-12 01:08):
Hello, there is no telling what happened to the cover but we sure don't still have it. We get so many DVDs in from all places. Some come with covers, some don't, some come in as collections disc only in cases and others have damaged cases. We toss out the bad cases at the time of listing and sell the good cases in "empty DVD case" lots ass all our DVDs are "Disc Only No Case". Thank you for your understanding. I do offer full refunds if you are unhappy with your purchase, simply send it back. You are a great person :) If there is anything else I can do for you please let me know.

That was a pleasant surprise, to say the least. I'm love great customer service This guy had it in spades. I was so chuffed, I wrote back with a request (18-Dec-12 04:53:44 AEDST):
That's extremely kind of you! But there'll be no need for a refund. I was just curious. Ok, to be honest - I was hoping on getting it. :P

But that's ok, I understand. You'll get top marks from me. I'm so pleased by your response, do you mind if I share it on my blog?
The response (18-Dec-12 07:43):
Hello, no I don't mind at all. I'm glad you are happy :)
So, I didn't get the cover–but I got a great eBay experience as a trade-off. I'm happy with that! Major props to Myles of for handling the situation brilliantly. Five stars!

Monday, 17 December 2012

Much ado about Yutte

If you've heard of Danish actress, Yutte Stensgaard, at all, chances are it's because of her role as Carmilla Karnstein in Lust for a vampire (1971). If that flick doesn't ring, a bell, this still–or minor variants thereof–might:

The grim gallery

In fact, that's probably one of the few reasons it's remembered at all–unless you're a fan of Tracy's pop tune, 'Strange love'.

Anyway, I was having a read of her IMDb profile yesterday. Two things surprised me. Firstly, she appears to have stopped making films in 1972. Second, the user-submitted bio by 'Dez'. Why did it surprise me? Well, the entry starts off ok:
A former au pair and model, Jytte Stensgaard emigrated to the UK in 1963, hoping to have a successful international film career. Changing her name to the slightly easier to pronounce "Yutte" Stensgaard she ironically didn't make her debut in a British film, but in the Italian movie La ragazza con la pistola (1968) (Girl with a Pistol) which did have some British backing. She then went on to appear in various British movies, mainly of the comedy or horror genre, most famously the lead role in Lust for a Vampire (1971), as well as several television guest roles.
But after mentioning she had 'a six-month stint hosting a game show with British king of comedy, Bob Monkhouse', things take a turn for the decidedly impartial:
After struggling with myopic casting directors, who could not see the beauty and budding talent before them and were happier to just keep casting more established but less beautiful women, Yutte finally gave up and emigrated to the USA in the mid-seventies and took up a job selling air time for a Christian radio station in Oregan [sic].
It then diverts lapses into overt snobbery–despite the author acknowledging her main claim to fame was playing a vampires countess. Once.
Understandably reluctant to make appearances at horror conventions when British film publicists finally started to notice her when it was too late, she did relent and start appearing at a select few in the late 1990s, giving the non-fickle amongst her fans a chance to see her unique radiance once more.
If you thought the slavish adoration of her appearance (at the expense of her acting talents) stopped there, you'd be wrong!
An inimitable beauty the likes of which has never been seen since, Yutte Stensgaard was possibly the biggest loss to movies since that of Sharon Tate.
And that how it wraps up. Going by this summation, it's hard to fathom how cinema's thrived without Yutte's glowing presence. 

The Tate comparison–perhaps inadvertently, going by the author's critical ability–provides another vampire connection. Tate starred in Roman Polanski's 1967 film, Dance of the vampires. However, 'loss' probably wasn't the greatest choice of words, given the circumstances of their departure.

After all, Stengaard merely dropped out of the film industry; Tate was brutally murdered by the Manson Family in 1969. Dez could've shown some restraint with that one.

Tweeting again

Over a year ago, I ditched my Twitter account. Well, I've finally decided to get back on it again. Tonight, in fact.

I think it'd be a great platform to share my blog entries. My new Twitter account's synced to this thing. Unfortunately, I couldn't use my name or 'vampirologist' as a handle (both taken). Couldn't use 'thevampirologist', either, as you can only have 15 characters in a username. It's only one character over. D'oh! Still, I'm happy with the handle I chose.

The Twitter account's linked to this blog. You'll get live feeds of blog entries I post on here and maybe, maybe some other non-blog stuff. I've still gotta verse myself in using the thing properly. That'll happen in time.

Friday, 14 December 2012

Deciphering sources

As someone only acquainted with the English language, one of the most frustrating things about vampire research is that a lot of the good stuff is written in other languages. 

A perfect example leapt out to me while I was reading the 'Historical note' in James M. B. Lyon's novel, Kiss of the butterfly (2011): 'The Djordjevic book Vampiri i druga bica -- Вампири и друга бића (Vampires and Other Beings) exists and constitutes a veritable treasure trove of Balkan vampire lore' (p. 377).

Djordjevic's work is also recommended by another author well-versed in Balkan vampire lore:
The best general study of vampires in what is now Yugoslavia is T. Djordjević, "Vampir i druga bića u našem narodnom verovanju i predanju," published in the Serbican Academy of Sciences series, Srpski Etnografski Zbornik, knj. LXVI, Second Series "Život i običaji narodni," knj. 30, Beograd, 1953, pp. 149-219.1
'T. Djordjević' is Tihomir Djordjevic–or Tihomir R. Đorđević–depending on which transcription you use. Wait till you get to his name's Serbian Cyrillic spelling: Тихомир Ђорђевић. Yikes.

As it happens, I've tracked down what appears to be the work in question (below)–but I'm left with several quandaries. 

 Firstly, how on earth do I even begin to cite this bastard–little alone be able to read it? 

Second, the date on the first page is given as 1952–but the citation listed (which corresponds with the copy I've found) is given as 1953. What's the deal with that? 

Thirdly, if we follow Fine's reference, we're dealing with an article. An incredibly substantial article, sure–but an article nonetheless. So why does Lyon refer to a book? Is it possible the article was a 'teaser'? Or is the article an extract from a book?

Fourth, much like the work's subject–this appears to have risen from the grave: Djordjević died in 1944. Does that mean the work appeared in an earlier source? Quite possibly. I'll look into it. And, as usual, reader feedback's welcome.

1. JVA Fine, Jr., 'In defense of vampires: Church/State efforts to stop vigilante action against vampires in Serbia during the first reign of Miloš Obrenovic', East European Quarterly, vol. 21, no. 1, 1987, p. 23, n1.

Thursday, 13 December 2012

Moore trouble

Earlier this year, I reported the case of a Facebook member whose Dracula fanpage was swiped under unusual circumstances, despite Dracula (1897) being public domain.

Something similar has befallen Andrew Moore of Nosferatu TV fame:
Earlier today I have recived [sic] a cease order and had to take down all my movies, which I had searched and found to be in the public domain, the order was given to me by the StudioCanal Video distrobustion [sic] company out of the United Kingdom, though I live in the United States, untill [sic] this issue is resolved there will only be news and reviews and on the website, and possible podcasts, though untill [sic] this is all done I will keep them down.
Was StudioCanal Video right to issue a cease and desist notice against Moore? We'll wait and see...

Though it's not immediately clear which movies were supposedly in violation of the company's rights, Nosferatu (1922)–at least, the non restored version–is public domain.

Saturday, 8 December 2012

The Whitby Vampire

Let's nip this one in the bud. Some of you may've heard about the Whitby Vampire. Apparently, a 'story was printed in the Whitby Telegraph on Friday 23rd March 2012' which was 'withdrawn by the newspaper just before it went on sale.'

An 'unnamed worker' salvaged one copy of the paper before all other copies were destroyed. Fortuitously, the issue features images of the supposed vampire–the only ones in public existence, because the rest were seized by 'government officials the same day'.

The vampire in question was a small, shrivelled bat-thing impaled through the chest 'with an iron spike containing a rolled up parchment of the Lord's Prayer in Latin.' It has some rather obvious Dracula (1897) parallels:
In the remote North Yorkshire town of Whitby, the setting for Bram Stoker's gothic novel Dracula, a recent discovery may suggest that he took inspiration for his book from something much closer to home than the 15th century Vlad the Impaler.
The story has been shared by credulous sources like identity-theft group, The Highgate Cemetery Vampire Appreciation Society (not to be confused with the legit group of the same name).

The Highgate Cemetery Vampire Appreciation Society

Where do I begin? Firstly, the photographic 'evidence' of the 'man-bat' tells us the images are property of Aldbrough University's Anthropology Department:

The Whitby Vampire

The story is accompanied by an interview with Rabbi Shachnaey, who 'claims to have successfully slain over 15 vampires in the last 40 years.' His identity is obscured by a black bar across his eyes.

Shachnaey can't hide behind a Google Image search, though, which reveals 'Rabbi Shachnaey' is actually Roni Shachnaey, an Israeli magician. He 'has had lifetime career in magic, mentalism, readings, and the bizarre.' Not vampire hunting, I'm afraid.

Lastly, what about the paper the article appeared in? The Whitby Telegraph? Yeah, about that–there's no such paper.
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