Letters to Jyl: May 26, 2026

We debut a new column today, from our Travel Editor Jyl Glenn, and it takes us back to the days of letter columns in newspapers… has she stumbled upon something cool, or is she wandering around in the woods?

My DMs and email inbox are always full of people looking for help. Usually it’s writing or editing advice, medical questions, relationship problems, or someone wanting reassurance that their weird idea is worth pursuing (it is!!). But lately, some of the messages have been… different. This week’s question comes from a longtime Maryland resident who says tourism has ruined the atmosphere in her hometown.

Dear Jyl,

I’m writing because I no longer know what I’m supposed to do. For years, I maintained a very quiet existence in the woods outside Burkittsville, Maryland. I kept to myself and respected the land. I asked for very little in return beyond basic privacy and a reasonable fear of the unknown (me).

And then a bunch of kids showed up with video cameras in 1999 and somehow my private woods became everybody’s little film school project. Ever since then, people keep coming onto my property with cameras. Every weekend it’s the same thing. Groups of young people tromping through the forest screaming things like “Bruh, this is where she killed those kids,” while livestreaming themselves knocking over my cairns for likes.

Last weekend, a group of girls climbed onto an old foundation to film a dance video while their boyfriends wandered off looking for “the creepy stick figures.” They were out there until almost 3 a.m. arguing about choreography and getting brand deals. They didn’t even seem scared of me! At one point, someone called me “mid.” I understand the town benefits economically from my presence, but there has to be some limit. I can’t even be scary anymore without someone trying to monetize the footage.

Am I wrong for feeling disrespected? Also, what does “six seven” mean and why do they keep yelling it?

— The Blair Witch

Dear Blair,

No, you are not wrong for feeling disrespected. What you are experiencing is the consequence of becoming a local attraction in an era where people confuse access with entitlement. That said, your branding is inconsistent with your expectations. You can’t spend decades cultivating an atmosphere of unsettling stick symbols, disappearances, deaths, and psychological dread, then act surprised when people arrive expecting an immersive experience they can capture on video.

When this all began, you wanted to be feared, Blair. You succeeded. But the world has changed since then. Fear used to make people avoid places like your woods. Now it makes them decide they’re influencers, charge their phones, and livestream themselves trespassing. The problem is that people no longer experience fear privately. They perform it. They scream for the camera, dare each other to walk deeper into the woods, then immediately turn around to make sure somebody captured their reaction. That’s not to say you aren’t terrifying, because you absolutely are.

So maybe you need to switch things up a bit. Stop giving them the story they came for. I recommend bad reception, dead batteries, and corrupted footage. Make sure the cameras capture nothing unusual while everybody in the group swears something happened. Let them lose hours they can’t account for. Let one person hear their name whispered from the trees while the recording only plays back wind. Let them get home and find footage of themselves at some ordinary little bar or diner they don’t remember visiting, laughing at conversations they can’t recall having. Most of these people can survive supernatural dread, but very few can survive losing reception, getting corrupted video, and realizing they can’t post about it.

As for “six seven,” it doesn’t actually mean anything. Apparently, the fastest way to make them stop saying it is for an adult to repeat it back to them. Frankly, Blair, that may be your best bet to keep them away.

—Jyl

Have a question, problem, curse, feud, haunting, crisis, or suspicious situation of your own? Send it to letterstojyl@gmail.com Anonymous submissions are always welcome.

Jyl Glenn is a writer, editor, formatter, anthologist, poet, and a medical-legal writer and consultant. Her lifelong love affair with horror began at a very early age when she was left unattended on the weekend Poltergeist debuted on HBO. And then she figured out she could read any horror book she liked as long as she hung out at the public library, even if the librarian deemed it not to be age appropriate. Jyl was born and raised in New York and now lives in Tulsa with her dog and kitten. She loves creepy art, dark poetry, and pink dinosaurs. When she isn’t dabbling in the macabre—she’s most likely asleep.

PLEASE NOTE: The views and opinions of the staff of Memento Mori Ink do not necessarily represent those of Memento Mori Ink or Crystal Lake Publishing. Thank you for understanding.