Chapter 1: The Urban Legend Unfolds

In the Reddit folklore community, known as /r/TMWOTW, a user named /u/FrancoFonoFile has taken on the task of gathering firsthand stories regarding a local legend from various individuals across France and other European regions. This compilation has reinforced the idea that this tale is a traditional urban legend. Many who share the story insist they know someone who has encountered The Man; however, when you seek out that individual, they typically respond with, "No, but I know someone who has." This cycle continues, leaving you without a direct connection to anyone who has truly met him—except for one amusing account from a man who claimed to be his neighbor.

One night, while my boyfriend and I were in Pertuis, seated at an outdoor restaurant, we found ourselves sipping wine and discussing the legend of TMWOTW with some locals. As the evening wore on and the wine flowed, the locals delighted in spinning tales for this gullible tourist (myself), leading to plenty of laughter. At that moment, an elderly man approached us, clearly inebriated and oddly disheveled. The locals exchanged whispers, and I caught snippets of words like "gypsy" and "He’s already had his wine."

Eventually, one of the men at our table leaned in, attempting to share another version of the legend, but his amusement was evident, leading his friends to chuckle. Meanwhile, the “gypsy” stood nearby, seemingly torn between speaking up and retreating. When the laughter peaked, he could no longer hold back, stepping forward to assert, “No, no, it’s true. He is real! I live next door to him!” His demeanor suggested he might have been drunk, unstable, or perhaps a combination of both. His words were somewhat slurred, making it difficult for my translator to keep up, yet I managed to grasp parts of his tale.

He claimed to reside in Ansouis, stating that his family had owned their home for over a century. According to him, The Man’s family had lived next door for nearly as long. He recounted that The Man was American and had met his uncle ages ago. When the man had returned to the neighboring house, he was already very old, although he appeared middle-aged at the time. The man had moved there, expecting to pass away, but instead, he had inexplicably grown younger. “He’s still there today!” the stranger exclaimed, prompting laughter from the locals.

At this, the locals erupted in mirth. The man, now irritated, pointed behind him and shouted, “He is there now! In Ansouis, at Ellen’s place!” The locals echoed in laughter, “Yes! Ellen’s place!” The man, visibly frustrated, waved dismissively at them before turning to leave. I followed him, despite the locals insisting he was merely a crazy gypsy not to be trusted.

I managed to catch up with the stranger before he rounded the corner, asking if there was any truth to his claim. He simply pointed into the darkness, angrily repeating, “Ansouis. Ellen’s place,” before walking away.

Sarah was baffled by the mention of “Ellen’s place.” If Daniel Young indeed owned a house in Ansouis, why was he residing at Ellen’s? There were no records linking him to anyone named Ellen, nor had she ever encountered anyone with that name in her lifetime. The name Ellen had faded from popularity long ago, particularly in America, and at sixty, Sarah had never met anyone by that name, just as she hadn’t known an Agnes or a Mildred.

Moreover, Sarah had never come face to face with the peculiar “gypsy” herself; he was merely a “friend of a friend” in the world of urban legends. Even worse, he was an eccentric and likely intoxicated individual who had merely conversed with an internet forum user she had never met. Thus, this tale of the gypsy might just be another colorful retelling of the urban legend. Online responses to the story echoed these sentiments, yet this account held more specific details than any other version of the legend she had encountered, and it was situated near the heart of its origin.

Armed with this information, she revisited her records regarding the property owned by Isabel Young-Jones, confirming its location in Ansouis—though the records only listed the street name: Rue de France.

Determined, she set out for Ansouis to discover if she could locate Daniel Young, DY3x, Isabel, or even Ellen and her mysterious place, or perhaps even the old gypsy. She understood the potential response from locals if she began inquiring about an elderly man who might have settled in the area, defying the odds of aging. Not yet ready to ask about “Ellen’s Place,” she opted instead to explore, searching for Rue de France. While she could consult a map, she believed the town was small enough to traverse in under an hour, and the enchanting surroundings were too inviting not to explore.

Continued in Chapter 5…

Chapter 2: Ellen’s Place

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