Hopyard
The valley sunk lower and lower between the hills with each passing year. Weighed down by the gnarled oak trees with black leaves that seemed to absorb the wind, the indigenous people knew the river valley between Mount Tom and Leesville Hill as "Machimoodus" or "the place of bad noises."
Thunderclaps, crashes, and deep rumbles would escape so frequently from this area that the Native Americans avoided them during their hunts. They blamed the terrors on Hobbamock, an evil deity who'd worshipped the dead and cursed the land, and the dark woods in the valley were left to grow and growl wildly without interference.
When the white settlers came to the region in what was then the Connecticut colony, they didn't hear or consider the warnings. They set up a mill next to the small stream that jumped through the valley and down its walls, and a young village with the anglicized name of Moodus began to grow in the musty air beneath the dark canopy.
But the noises never ceased. The newly arrived colonists blamed them on witchcraft and insisted that the sinister dealings of Hobbamock were none other than the machinations of the Devil risen from Hell and looking for a few souls to take.
Deep in the woods and echoing out of caves, the noises grew louder. Cattle were startled, families moved away, and crops were blighted. A meeting was called, and on May 16, 1791, a group of men from Moodus set off into the woods to confront the Devil and banish him from their young country. Armed with lanterns and rifles, they set out into the thick forest and climbed the rolling hills as the sounds of rolling boulders grew louder.
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The largest earthquake to ever hit Connecticut happened on the night of May 16, 1791. It toppled chimneys and church steeples. Windows cracked, and pictures fell from the walls. The water in the harbors of New Haven and Bridgeport crashed over the stones of the jetties and sent boats twisting on their moorings. The quake was felt in Boston and New York City and was centered squarely in the woods outside of Moodus.
Each man who went into the woods that night never officially spoke of what they saw or what they did. Stories and speculation were passed down through the generations - all with puritanical and fearful leanings. Some claim the men found nothing. Others swear they saw the Devil dancing atop a waterfall as his tail burned potholes into the rocks below the falls, and they fought him before finally entombing him in a cave nearby. Others tell tales of the men bargaining with the Devil and being bestowed with great wealth and prosperity. But whatever history you believe, the noises deep in the woods of Moodus went silent for generations.
Recently, two teenagers claim to have seen a figure dancing atop the falls at night with small fires lit on either side of the cascades. Small fissures have formed in the humid ground, and cracks have torn through nearby roads. Other residents have heard rumblings from deep within the earth, an unholy growl of rock brushing against rock as if a great furnace were relighting.
