The story
Gunntown Cemetery rests on its hillside off Gunntown Road in Naugatuck, Connecticut, a compact burying ground whose stones reach to the Revolutionary era — veterans and farm families of the borough's first generations — and whose quiet was overtaken in recent decades by a haunted reputation spread through investigator telling and online lore: accounts describe children's laughter and a boy chasing a ball among the stones, an old man with a lantern at the treeline, a phantom dog, orbs and voices, and music like distant fiddling with no source, making Gunntown a fixture of Connecticut's paranormal circuit. The attention has cost it — vandalism and night trespass at a real cemetery where descendants still visit — so the record states the rules plainly: daylight visits only, nothing touched or taken, neighbours undisturbed. None of the telling is documented, and the burying ground's genuine heritage is its Revolutionary stones. Present Gunntown as small-town heritage first, its lore as circuit telling, hedged and courteous.