Latest / The Grim: Haunted Cemeteries & Graveyard Tales / Paris in Mourning: The Ghosts of Père Lachaise, Part 2

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Paris in Mourning: The Ghosts of Père Lachaise, Part 2 · The Grim: Haunted Cemeteries & Graveyard Tales

0:13
Kristin: Grim morning and welcome to the Grim.
0:16
Kristin: I'm your host, Kristen.
0:18
Kristin: On today, we're enlatching the rusted gate and slipping quietly again into pure lache.
0:23
Kristin: An Acropolis not merely of stone, but of legend.
0:27
Kristin: Here beneath Parisian skies and crumbling angels, the dead rest uneasily in marble rows, their names etched in shadow, sorrow, and song.
0:36
Kristin: The aroma of coffee mingles in the air.
0:39
Kristin: The gates stand open.
0:41
Kristin: Step carefully.
0:42
Kristin: It's time to descend into the hauntings of history.
0:46
Kristin: For the season finale of The Grim, I thought it was finally time we began reopening a few gates.
0:52
Kristin: I've been hinting at this return for nearly every episode, because burial grounds are never truly finished.
0:59
Kristin: Time changes them, legend shifts, and new stories rise from old stones.
1:04
Kristin: Sometimes, among the thousands or even millions who rest within those walls, their names we passed by too quickly.
1:12
Kristin: Some cemeteries are small, their stories gathered in a single visit.
1:17
Kristin: But places like Pierre Leche are different.
1:20
Kristin: They're cities of the dead, labyrinths of memory, and every path leads somewhere new, because there's avenues we never walked, there are graves we passed without pausing, and their voices carved into marble that have been waiting patiently for someone to listen.
1:35
Kristin: Before we continue into Pierre Leche, it's worth pausing for those joining us here for the first time, or for those who simply need reminding of exactly what kind of place this is.
1:45
Kristin: Pierre Leche is not just the most famous cemetery in Paris, it's one of the most famous cemeteries in the world.
1:52
Kristin: Spread nearly across 110 acres in Paris, with more than 100 million souls resting within these walls, with millions more preserved in the Columbarium and Crematorium.
2:03
Kristin: This vast necropolis is less cemetery and more of a city of the dead.
2:07
Kristin: The cemetery opened in 1804 under Napoleon Bonaparte.
2:11
Kristin: During a time when Paris was rapidly outgrowing, its overcrowded burial grounds, the dead had become a problem for the living, and the city chose land on the eastern edge of Paris once owned by the Jesuites.
2:23
Kristin: The cemetery took its name from Pierre Francois de Lachay, confessor to Louis XIV.
2:29
Kristin: At first, no one wanted to be buried here.
2:32
Kristin: The location felt too far from central Paris, too inconvenient and too unfashionable.
2:37
Kristin: So the city officials devised an elegant solution.
2:40
Kristin: They made burial prestigious.
2:42
Kristin: The remains of famous figures were transferred here to attract attention.
2:46
Kristin: Among the earliest were Molire and Jean de la Fontaine.
2:50
Kristin: It worked.
2:51
Kristin: Over two centuries, Pierre Lachet transformed into something extraordinary.
2:55
Kristin: As cobbled avenues climbed steep hills lined with gothic chapels, weathered angels, ivy-covered tombs, and silent stone faces watching from above.
3:04
Kristin: Within these winding paths are some of the most recognizable names in history.
3:09
Kristin: From Frank Chopin and Oscar Wilde to Edith Pieth and Jim Morrison, but Pierre Leche is far more than a collection of famous graves.
3:17
Kristin: This ground has witnessed war and revolution, mourning and devotion, obsession and pilgrimage.
3:24
Kristin: Some come for its history, some come for its beauty, and some come searching for ghosts.
3:29
Kristin: And perhaps that's what makes Pierre Leche unlike anywhere else.
3:33
Kristin: It feels alive with memory, grief, and longing.
3:36
Kristin: As we descend deeper into its winding avenues, past foxes slipping between tombs and ivy creeping across the stones.
3:44
Kristin: It becomes clear that Pierre Leche has never truly stopped speaking, and the dead still have stories left to tell.
3:51
Kristin: We begin a Molière, because perhaps no one would appreciate the irony more than he would.
3:57
Kristin: A man who spent his life exposing falsehoods and mocking hypocrisy now rests beneath a monument that may itself be a deception.
4:04
Kristin: When Paris transferred his remains here in 1817, it was meant to be a grand ceremony.
4:11
Kristin: A celebrated playwright finally given the honor denied him in death.
4:15
Kristin: There was only one problem.
4:16
Kristin: No one knew if the bones beneath his name were actually his.
4:20
Kristin: Molire died in 1673 and was buried without ceremony, because he was an actor, a profession viewed with suspicion by the church, so he was denied a proper burial.
4:31
Kristin: More than a century later, when officials began searching for his remains, the records were in ruins.
4:37
Kristin: The graves had shifted and the names had vanished.
4:40
Kristin: Even the skull recovered alongside the remains appeared to belong to another man, so the city chose not to look too closely, and perhaps that feels appropriate.
4:50
Kristin: The man who built a career exposing illusions may have received the most fitting end in all, a mystery, one final deception long after the curtain fell.
5:00
Kristin: Not far away stands one of Pierre Lechey's most visited monuments, the grave of Oscar Wilde, watched over by a wingstone figure that causes scandal the moment it was unveiled.
5:11
Kristin: But before we reach the tomb, we should talk about the man beneath it.
5:15
Kristin: Because Wilde was one of the most brilliant and most deliberately destroyed figures in the 19th century.
5:21
Kristin: He was born in Dublin in 1854, the son of a celebrated surgeon and a poet mother, who raised him to believe that mediocrity was the only true failure.
5:30
Kristin: He obliged her completely.
5:32
Kristin: At Oxford, he won the university's highest prize for poetry, arrived in London's society with wits so sharp it made people genuinely uneasy, and proceeded to write some of the most enduring works in the English language.
5:56
Kristin: He understood the cruelty hiding beneath Victorian respectability better than almost anyone, and so he said repeatedly, in ways that made powerful people laugh, and then remembered that laughter uncontrollably afterward.
6:09
Kristin: He was also a gay man living in Victorian England, and the world he had lived in had laws prepared exactly for that.
6:16
Kristin: When he sued the Marquis of Queensbury for libel in 1895, the case collapsed and turned against him, ending with Wilde convicted of gross indecency and sentenced to two years of hard labor.
6:28
Kristin: The imprisonment broke his health and ended his career.
6:31
Kristin: He was released in 1897 and crossed to France and never returned.
6:36
Kristin: He died in Paris in 1900, bankrupt and largely alone at the age of 46 years old.
6:43
Kristin: It was his devoted friend Robert Ross who refused to let that remain his final chapter.
6:48
Kristin: Ross spent years working to bring Wilde here and commissioned sculptor Jacob Epstein to create something worthy of what he had been.
6:55
Kristin: The result, though, caused immediate outrage.
6:58
Kristin: Cemetery officials deemed the sculpture too sensual, too provocative, and were parts of the monument removed.
7:05
Kristin: One missing piece allegedly ended up as a paperweight on the cemetery director's desk, but no one knows where it is now.
7:12
Kristin: For decades, visitors pressed lipstick kisses against the stone until the surface was nearly obscured.
7:18
Kristin: Even after a glass barrier was installed, and Myers kept reaching toward him.
7:23
Kristin: It's perhaps the most fitting tribute imaginable for a man imprisoned and destroyed for openly loving, now receiving an unended stream of devotion from strangers who cannot stop themselves from trying to reach him.
7:36
Kristin: And then there's one detail that belongs at the end of this story.
7:40
Kristin: Within the monument, alongside Wilde, rests Robert Ross himself.
7:44
Kristin: The man who refused to let Wilde be forgotten became part of the memorial he fought to create.
7:50
Kristin: Two souls, one stone, and a loyalty that outlasted anything the world could throw at them both.
7:56
Kristin: From Wilde, we moved toward a woman who turned performance into something almost sacred.
8:01
Kristin: Her grave lies in Division 44, and at first glance it feels surprisingly simple.
8:06
Kristin: Just a name, Sarah Bernhard.
8:09
Kristin: For a woman called the Eighth Wonder of the World, the Divine Sarah, who was considered the voice of gold and the greatest actress who ever lived, the marker is almost a provocation, as if the name alone is sufficient, as if it always was.
8:23
Kristin: She was born in Paris in 1844, the illegitimate daughter of a Dutch courtesan.
8:28
Kristin: Passed between strangers and comments before her mother's wealthy clients arranged her admission to the Paris Conservatory.
8:35
Kristin: What followed was the most spectacular theatrical life the modern world has yet produced.
8:40
Kristin: She crossed oceans, filled halls on three continents, and critics struggled to find language adequate to her presence.
8:48
Kristin: Victor Hugo, after hearing her voice, declared he had heard the voice of God.
8:53
Kristin: Sarah naturally didn't disagree.
8:55
Kristin: But the details of her private life were as charged as anything she played on stage.
9:00
Kristin: For years, Barnard slept in a rose satin-lined coffin kept in her bedroom.
9:05
Kristin: She said she needed to understand death in order to portray it convincingly.
9:10
Kristin: She received journalists in it as well.
9:12
Kristin: She was photographed reclining within it with the serenity of a woman who had long since made her peace, with the worst thing.
9:19
Kristin: She kept at various points a pet alligator, a young lion, and a bow constrictor that occupied her paris home alongside an equally rotating cast of lovers drawn from the heights of European society, and she didn't see why any of this required explaining.
9:35
Kristin: When her right leg was amputated in 1915, an American promoter offered her$100,000 to exhibit the severed limb.
9:44
Kristin: She declined.
9:45
Kristin: She then returned to the stage.
9:47
Kristin: She performed for the prosthetic, driven by a will that her body couldn't override until it finally could.
9:54
Kristin: She died in Paris in 1923 at the age of 78, surrounded by her son and her students, the last audience she would ever have.
10:03
Kristin: And in the end, the woman who had spent 40 years rehearsing for death in rosewood and silk received a completely ordinary grave, which somehow feels like the final performance.
10:14
Kristin: A last trick from a woman who spent her life proving that the simplest gesture, held long enough, becomes unforgettable.
10:22
Kristin: From performance we move now to music, and toward a grave that holds a body but not a heart, Fredrik Chopin.
10:29
Kristin: He was born in Poland in 1810, and exile became the defining wound of everything he ever created.
10:36
Kristin: He left Warsaw in 1830, just weeks before the November uprising against Russian rule collapsed into failure and blood.
10:44
Kristin: The news reached him abroad.
10:46
Kristin: He would never go back.
10:47
Kristin: Paris, though, welcomed him with open arms.
10:49
Kristin: Society adored him.
10:51
Kristin: The slots of the French capital opened their doors in their admiration without reservation.
10:56
Kristin: None of it though quieted the ape.
10:58
Kristin: His Polynesis were not dances.
11:00
Kristin: They were dispatches from a country he could no longer touch.
11:04
Kristin: His nocturnes were not compositions.
11:06
Kristin: They were confessions, written in the only language that couldn't hold what Prost couldn't.
11:11
Kristin: All while his body was failing him in ways that mirrored the wound he carried within.
11:16
Kristin: For over a century it was believed he died of tuberculosis, the romantic illness of the age, but modern examination of his preserved heart tells a different story.
11:26
Kristin: The evidence points to pericarditis, a slow progression of inflammation of the lining around the heart itself.
11:33
Kristin: The organ that gave the world its most aching music was quietly hardening against him for years.
11:39
Kristin: Every note he wrote in his final decade was composed by a man whose own heart was already in the process of closing.
11:47
Kristin: When death came in 1849, he made one final request.
11:51
Kristin: Remove his heart.
11:52
Kristin: His sister Lunwica honored the wish, wrapping the preserved organ and carrying it out of France concealed beneath her clothing.
11:59
Kristin: Past Russian border guards, she crossed the frontier and back into Warsaw.
12:03
Kristin: His body, though, remained in Paris.
12:06
Kristin: His heart came home.
12:07
Kristin: Even divided by death across two countries, part of him finally made it back to the place.
12:12
Kristin: He spent 19 years trying to reach from a distance.
12:16
Kristin: He's buried here in Pierre Lache.
12:19
Kristin: His heart, though, is sealed within a pillar at the Holy Cross Church in Warsaw, two graves for one man, both in their way incomplete.
12:27
Kristin: From music we move toward memory, because not all hauntings arrive as apparitions.
12:33
Kristin: Some arrive as melodies, some arrive as longings, and some arrive as memories we thought were buried.
12:40
Kristin: Not far from here lies a grave of stark black marble, simple, quiet, severe.
12:46
Kristin: It belongs to Marcel Proust, a man who spent much of his life trying to outrun time itself.
12:52
Kristin: If Chopin preserved emotion in music, Proust preserved life in memory.
12:57
Kristin: He understood something deeply unsettling.
12:59
Kristin: The past truly never disappears.
13:01
Kristin: Awaits hidden in scent, taste, sound, and silence, waiting for the right moment to return.
13:08
Kristin: In his youth, Proust moved through the Parisian high society, studying aristocrats, artists, lovers, and social rituals with obsessive attention.
13:17
Kristin: He watched everything, collected everything, quietly storing away details that would later become immortal on the page.
13:24
Kristin: But as illness tightened its grip, his world grew smaller.
13:27
Kristin: Eventually it narrowed to a single room, his famous core-clined bedroom, a chamber sealed against sound and light.
13:34
Kristin: It was part sanctuary, part prison, and part tomb.
13:38
Kristin: Here, surrounded by notebooks and drafts, he worked through the night, racing against his failing body to complete what would become in the search of lost time, a masterpiece built entirely from memory.
13:50
Kristin: He wrote as though remembrance itself defeat death, as though words might preserve what time insists on stealing.
13:57
Kristin: But they couldn't save him.
13:59
Kristin: Proust died in 1922 from pneumonia.
14:02
Kristin: But in another sense he succeeded, because his work remains one of the greatest monuments ever built to memory.
14:08
Kristin: And perhaps that's why his grave carries one of Pierre Lachet's strangest hauntings.
14:13
Kristin: Visitors have reported sudden floods of memory near his tomb.
14:17
Kristin: Not memories of Proust, but their own.
14:19
Kristin: Forgotten the summers, voices long gone, the smell of a childhood kitchen, a scent from decades ago that has no business arriving here, an apparas cemetery without warning.
14:31
Kristin: Faces they have believed time had erased.
14:33
Kristin: People stop midstep, undone by something they cannot name or explain, standing in silence among the graves while the ordinary world continues somewhere else without them.
14:44
Kristin: It is perhaps the most fitting haunting imaginable.
14:48
Kristin: The man who had spent his life insisting that nothing ever is truly lost, that the past is always present, and only waiting for the right moment to return, appears to be even from the other side, proving his point.
15:02
Kristin: From memory, we move toward imagination, toward illusion, toward a man who understood something no one before him had grasped, that a camera was not a machine for recording the world, it was a machine for inventing one.
15:15
Kristin: Georges Malaise was born in Paris in 1861, the son of a boot manufacturer who expected him to inherit the factory, but he had other intentions.
15:25
Kristin: He used his inheritance to purchase the theater Robert Houdine, a legendary Parisian magic venue, and spent years immersing himself in the art of illusion in all of its forms.
15:37
Kristin: The sleight of hand, disappearing axe, smoke and mirrors, and the beautiful practice deception of the stage.
15:44
Kristin: When he encountered the Lumier brothers' first film projections in 1895, he saw something the Lumier's had not.
15:51
Kristin: Everyone saw a recording device.
15:53
Kristin: Melee saw a portal.
15:55
Kristin: He understood immediately that film could show the world things that never existed, that a well-constructed lion celluloid was indistinguishable from the true, and that this was not a limitation, but the most extraordinary creative power ever placed in human hands.
16:11
Kristin: He built the first film studio in Europe on his property in Mantor.
16:15
Kristin: He made over 500 films, pioneering the special effect, the double exposure, the stop-motion trick, and the narrative film itself, knowing all of this before anyone had developed the vocabulary to describe what he was doing, or the critical language to recognize its significance.
16:33
Kristin: In 1902, he created a trip to the moon, and the image of a rocket buried in the startled eye of a lunar face became one of the most recognizable images in the entire history of cinema.
16:45
Kristin: He had built a dream and made the whole world dream within.
16:48
Kristin: And then the world moved on without him.
16:50
Kristin: When the first world war arrived and the film industry industrialized around him, Melaise couldn't adapt, his studio went bankrupt.
16:59
Kristin: All his films were seized by creditors who sought not art but raw material and melted them down for silver nitrate and the celluloid.
17:07
Kristin: 500 dreams reduced to boot heels and buttons.
17:10
Kristin: The magician who had conjured worlds out of light ended up in a small kiosk selling candy and toys to strangers in a train station in the city where he had once been famous, was now unrecognized, unknown, and standing in the wreckage of everything he had built.
17:27
Kristin: He was discovered there in 1929 by a film journalist who had stopped, stared, and couldn't believe what he was seeing.
17:33
Kristin: The rediscovery, however, came too late for what had been destroyed, but not too late to return his name to him.
17:40
Kristin: He was honored, celebrated, and moved into a home for artists outside the city and died in 1938, knowing that the world had finally remembered.
17:49
Kristin: Of his 500 films, fewer than 250 survive.
17:54
Kristin: Each one is a small, irreplaceable proof that the impossible, handled with enough care and imagination, can become entirely real.
18:03
Kristin: Not far away lies a grave far quieter than the force it contains, a simple shared stone, one aim on the front and one aim on the back, standing together in death as they did in life for nearly 40 years.
18:16
Kristin: The front reads Gertrude Stein and the back reads Alice B.
18:19
Kristin: Tokless.
18:20
Kristin: Together they're the quietest monument in a cemetery full of grand gestures.
18:25
Kristin: And together they contain one of the most extraordinary stories of Pierre Lachey.
18:30
Kristin: Sime was born in Pennsylvania in 1874, raised partly in Oakland, and arrived in Paris in 1903 with her brother Leo, and no particular plan beyond finding the place where the future was being made, and she found it.
18:44
Kristin: The apartment in 27 Rue de Fleurus became one of the most significant creative spaces of the 20th century.
18:51
Kristin: Its walls covered floor to ceiling with paintings by artists no one had heard of.
19:11
Kristin: They gathered because Stein saw something others missed, recognized revolutions before the vocabulary existed to name them, and said so with a directness that was either oracle or maddening, depending on where you stood.
19:24
Kristin: Her writing did the same thing to language that her walls did to painting.
19:28
Kristin: She broke it apart and rebuilt it according to the rules no one else had agreed to follow.
19:32
Kristin: A rose as a rose is a rose was not repetition.
19:36
Kristin: It was an attempt to strip a word back to the thing itself, to force the reader to actually see what centuries of poetic use had made invisible.
19:44
Kristin: To some it was nonsense.
19:46
Kristin: To others it was revelation.
19:48
Kristin: To most it was both, sometimes in the same reading.
19:51
Kristin: But Stein's life resists the tidy frame of literary legend.
19:54
Kristin: She was Jewish, American, a lesbian woman living openly with Alice B.
19:59
Kristin: Toklis.
20:00
Kristin: In a world that had no language for what they were to each other, only the language of what they were not.
20:05
Kristin: Alice cooked, managed, and typed manuscripts, protected Gertrude's time and attention with a ferocity that history has constantly undervalued.
20:14
Kristin: When Stein's memoir was published under Alice's name, it was an act of love and a small sleight of hand and her literary joke all at once.
20:23
Kristin: Alice was the narrator of a life that wasn't hers, bearing witness to a woman she had chosen entirely.
20:29
Kristin: And then the war came, and the story darkened in ways that has never been fully resolved.
20:34
Kristin: As Nazi occupation spread across France, Stein and Tokles remained two elderly Jewish women in the French countryside under a regime that was systematically murdering people exactly like them, and they survived.
20:48
Kristin: How they survived remains a subject of genuine historical discomfort.
20:53
Kristin: There were connections, protections, and compromises made in the shadow of an impossible situation whose full dimensions Steiner self never publicly addressed, then she died in 1946.
21:05
Kristin: What remains is a contradiction.
21:08
Kristin: A woman who was a revolutionary in art and literature, who built a life that defied every convention of her time, and whose survival of war is entangled with questions that don't have clean answers.
21:19
Kristin: Her final words are the most fitting summary she could have left.
21:22
Kristin: When Alice leaned close and asked, What is the answer?
21:26
Kristin: Stein looked back and asked, What is the question?
21:29
Kristin: And then she was gone.
21:31
Kristin: One last riddle from a woman who spent her life refusing to be solved.
21:35
Kristin: Alice outlived her by 21 years.
21:38
Kristin: Her name is on the back of the stone, as if even in death.
21:41
Kristin: She's standing just behind, exactly where she always was.
21:46
Kristin: Not every grave in Pierre Lache, though, is famous for noble reasons.
21:50
Kristin: Some are famous because the living are very strange.
21:54
Kristin: A few graves prove this better than of Victor Noor.
21:57
Kristin: Victor Noor was a young journalist killed in 1870.
22:00
Kristin: 70, during a political dispute.
22:02
Kristin: At the time, he was only 22, and his death made him a martyr.
22:06
Kristin: But over time his grave became known for something far stranger.
22:10
Kristin: A bronze statue marks his burial, and one part of that statue has become impossible to ignore, his groin.
22:17
Kristin: Years of visitors have been touching it to polish the bronze to bright shine, but why?
22:23
Kristin: Because legends claim touching the statue brings fertility, passion, or love.
22:27
Kristin: Kiss his lips, touch the bronze, leave flowers, make a wish.
22:31
Kristin: Pierre Leche contains poets, revolutionaries, and icons, but it also contains this, which feels strangely human.
22:39
Kristin: Even in a city of death, life insists on finding unusual ways of expressing itself.
22:44
Kristin: But not every monument in Pierre Leche tells stories of art, love, or imagination.
22:50
Kristin: Some tell stories written in blood, beneath the ivy, beneath the marble.
22:54
Kristin: Beneath the beauty of these winding avenues, the cemetery carries scars, and some say they haven't healed.
23:01
Kristin: It's easy to mistake the silence of Pierre Leche for peace.
23:04
Kristin: The trees are beautiful.
23:06
Kristin: Life falls gently across stone.
23:08
Kristin: But silence and peace are not always the same thing.
23:12
Kristin: Visitors have long claimed something else moves here alongside the living, something that watches and waits.
23:18
Kristin: And some of the dead here are far more restless than others.
23:21
Kristin: Adolphe Theres was the French statesman who ordered the massacre of the commurs in 1871, the man who had sent government troops into this very cemetery and had 147 people shot against the eastern wall.
23:36
Kristin: But he's also buried here too.
23:38
Kristin: His grandma stands only a short walk from the site of that slaughter, and is reportedly haunted by the Frenchman.
23:45
Kristin: The form of his haunting, though, takes a strange revealing.
23:48
Kristin: He doesn't appear and he doesn't speak.
23:50
Kristin: He tugs.
23:51
Kristin: Visitors who walked too close are put a sharp insistent pull at the sleeve or hem, a demand for acknowledgement from a man who spent his life demanding it, and much of his death suppressing those who refused.
24:03
Kristin: Cemetery guards, when asked, tend to develop a sudden interest in something happening elsewhere, leaving visitors to their own assumptions.
24:12
Kristin: But another haunting from within is also puzzling.
24:15
Kristin: Alocardix tomb carries its own strangeness.
24:19
Kristin: Visitors who arrive as skeptics often leave uncertain.
24:22
Kristin: The stone feels warm even in cold weather.
24:25
Kristin: Those who press their hands against it have described a sensation like static, like a current passing between stone and skin, as if the man who spent his life codifying communication with a dead is still, from the other side, attempting to be heard.
24:40
Kristin: Whether this is faith shaping perception or something else entirely hardly matters anymore, because many who leave Kardick's tomb walk away with the uneasy feeling that something pressed back.
24:52
Kristin: And then there's the mausoleum of Elizabeth Stroganov, one of the largest private tombs in the cemetery.
24:58
Kristin: She was a 19th-century Russian noblewoman of immense wealth, who embedded in her will a challenge of extraordinary strangeness, a substantial inheritance to anyone willing to remain sealed inside her mausoleum for 365 days, 366 nights, alone beside her tomb.
25:17
Kristin: Many have tried, but none have lasted even a week.
25:21
Kristin: H reported the same thing: the sensation of being watched, of warmth being drawn out of the room, of life itself being pulled from them by the sealed stone air.
25:32
Kristin: The challenge is now impossible to accept.
25:35
Kristin: Sleeping inside the mausoleum is prohibited.
25:37
Kristin: The cemetery administration notes with a certain resigned amusement that letters still arrive and the mausoleum still stands, silent, waiting, and perhaps that's the truth of Beer Lache.
25:49
Kristin: It's not merely a cemetery, it's a city of memory, a place where grief lingers, beauty decays, and the dead refuse complete silence.
25:58
Kristin: Some through music, others through memory, some through legend, and some simply through presence.
26:05
Kristin: The longer you walk these avenues, though, the harder it becomes to ignore the feeling that you're not entirely alone.
26:12
Kristin: As the raw iron gates of Pierre Lachey groan shut behind us, the story slip back into stone, and the dead return to their uneasy rest.
26:20
Kristin: Thank you for walking with me through season two of The Grim.
26:24
Kristin: If these haunted avenues have meant anything to you, leave us a review and tell us so.
26:30
Kristin: It's how the living find each other in the dark.
26:33
Kristin: The gate is sealed, the veil drawn, but death keeps no calendar.
26:37
Kristin: And so we shall return, as we always do, this fall for season three on the grim.