Folklore and local ghost stories from your area.
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Can see the roof of this place from my windows.
www.spookyisles.com
The Horror Of Buckholm Tower | Spooky Isles
Buckholm Tower in Galashiels, Scottish Borders, is soaked in the blood of the innocent which has led to paranormal activity, says RICK HALE
www.spookyisles.com
Hello there, saw this post and couldn't resist.
Up in the Yorkshire Dale's, there's a village called Gunnerside, I grew up there, anyway the whole of swaledale is awash with folk tales and ghost stories but near Gunnerside is a place called Ivelet bridge, the location of my tale.
The area is an old lead mining area and many of the old workings still stand on the moors and during the 18th-19th century access to the communities were very limited, and when folk died removing the bodies was a endurance procession, with large stones at intervals along the routes called corpse stones, infact the routes were likewise named "corpse trails".
Now Ivelet bridge is a crossing with a severe hump and is colloquially called "the humpback bridge", and slap bang next to the bridge is a corpse stone on the corpse route from Keld to Grinton, a place where hundreds of bodies would've rested while their bearers had a break.
This bridge has been the centre in the Dale's for sightings of a headless black dog, called "the skriker", an omen of death for whomever was unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the beast.
This bridge is also a great fishing spot that me and my cousin frequented as children most weekends, sometimes staying out all night by the river with our rods, (against club rules yes) but we were just two local lads enjoying the country life.
Now, one late summers evening we had set up in our usual spot near the bridge and were messing about near an old mine opening, when we heard a noise that can only described as a deep growl, suffice to say we sh*t ourselves and ran, about half a mile back to his house, leaving our rods, and gear there until we plucked up the courage to retrieve them in the daylight the next day.
I've never been back to that mine to this day and never will. Hands down one of the most terrifying experiences of my life, and believe me the moors are spooky places even in the middle of the day.
Other legends include mischievous spirits called "bogets", phantom fishermen/horsemen, trolls and fairies, probably a lot to do with the norse culture that laid the foundations of the settlements in the dales. Go visit and check out the spook!
Up in the Yorkshire Dale's, there's a village called Gunnerside, I grew up there, anyway the whole of swaledale is awash with folk tales and ghost stories but near Gunnerside is a place called Ivelet bridge, the location of my tale.
The area is an old lead mining area and many of the old workings still stand on the moors and during the 18th-19th century access to the communities were very limited, and when folk died removing the bodies was a endurance procession, with large stones at intervals along the routes called corpse stones, infact the routes were likewise named "corpse trails".
Now Ivelet bridge is a crossing with a severe hump and is colloquially called "the humpback bridge", and slap bang next to the bridge is a corpse stone on the corpse route from Keld to Grinton, a place where hundreds of bodies would've rested while their bearers had a break.
This bridge has been the centre in the Dale's for sightings of a headless black dog, called "the skriker", an omen of death for whomever was unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the beast.
This bridge is also a great fishing spot that me and my cousin frequented as children most weekends, sometimes staying out all night by the river with our rods, (against club rules yes) but we were just two local lads enjoying the country life.
Now, one late summers evening we had set up in our usual spot near the bridge and were messing about near an old mine opening, when we heard a noise that can only described as a deep growl, suffice to say we sh*t ourselves and ran, about half a mile back to his house, leaving our rods, and gear there until we plucked up the courage to retrieve them in the daylight the next day.
I've never been back to that mine to this day and never will. Hands down one of the most terrifying experiences of my life, and believe me the moors are spooky places even in the middle of the day.
Other legends include mischievous spirits called "bogets", phantom fishermen/horsemen, trolls and fairies, probably a lot to do with the norse culture that laid the foundations of the settlements in the dales. Go visit and check out the spook!
Google Muncaster Castle. A few tales around that place including a ghost jester I believe. Cumbria really is a good place for folktales and ghost stories.
Your Place And Mine - Antrim - The Legend of Squire O'Hara - Dr R Simpson
your place and mine: article on the legend of Squire O'Hara (Ballymena) - By Dr R Simpson
www.bbc.co.uk
An ancestor of mine.
My great uncle used to tell stories about seeing him jump the white gates personally.
I wouldn't recommended it as a place to stay however. If you're ever in NI look up the Crown Bar in Belfast, Crumlin Road Gaol and Ballygally Castle (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ballygally_Castle) I have had a very strange experience there myself, but nothing I would say is indisputably supernatural.
My friends used to run a wedding venue near Ballycastle (https://limepark.com/) and apparently on a least two occasions the cottages have been haunted by a ghost playing the fiddle.
Let me tell you the tale of a group of devil worshippers we encountered, late one night, many years back.
There was this favourite stretch of woodland we had on the Downs. It's now a nature reserve, though it wasn't at the time. It's on a steep slope and half-way up is a clear plateau that juts out.
We were camped a few hundred yards from the plateau, and a bit above it. On this particular night there were six of us. We had our spot and everyone had their sleeping bags out (those dreadful German army ones that had sleeves and could by folded up to make a kind of jacket. I'm sure we've all had one of those at some stage). Two of our number (let's call them Bob and Brian - not their real names) said they were going to go and get pizza! They didn't want to cook. As I recall, I said that if you are going for that then get me some special fried rice (I don't like pizza, though I do like the look and idea of it).
Off they trudged down hill to go and get everyone's order. In the meantime we got a fire going and everyone got settled. About an hour later they are back.
'You'll never guess what we've just seen,' they say, all serious and hushed.
We looked at them expectantly.
'On the plateau we saw a large fire and a group of people, dancing around it. Not just dancing but they were all holding hands and chanting. It looked more like a ceremony. Like DEVIL WORSHIPPERS!'
We all laughed. Just a wind up, surely. But inside, I know I was personally spooked more than a little.
We all joked amongst ourselves, but it was obviously nervous laughter and you could tell everyone was edgy.
'Let's go and take a look,' says Colin (again, not his real name).
You could see hands surreptitiously going in bags, to take out penknives or what have you. Just in case. I know I did!
Then we filed off into the dark, down the narrow paths and tracks through the trees. Up ahead, Colin was leading, with Bob and Brian behind him. Behind them was Dan (Colin's brother), then Bert, and finally myself (don't read anything in to that!).
We knew these woods like the back of our hands and we wound down the hill and then back up to the plateau so we could approach it from a hidden path.
As we neared the plateau I saw a sudden flash of flame ahead. It was true! There were people on the plateau and they had a large fire. We got nearer. I could hear voices. Bob and Brian had been correct - there were devil worshippers ahead of us!
I made sure I had that knife firmly in my hand.
'Someone go out and have a better look,' said someone - I couldn't work out who spoke.
'You're up front,' said Bob or Brian. 'Go on Colin - see what they're up to.'
'No way!' whispered Colin, but firm and hard.
And then, all of a sudden, I saw Colin lurch forward, out on to the plateau! I saw him stand, silhouetted against the flames, he paused and looked back at us and then he walked toward the fire.
'If they do anything to him,' declared Dan, 'I will kill everyone one of them! I swear it - they better leave my brother alone.'
Of course, we would all be honour-bound to jump in to defend Colin (even though, to be quite frank with you, he could be a right bell-end on occasion).
And then, after a minute or two, we could see him walking back toward us!
What had happened?
'Cheers, you two,' said Colin to Bob and Brian. 'Thanks for pushing me out there, you pair of cocks.'
Bob and Brian started giggling.
'What happened?' asked a desperate voice.
Colin held out a box of matches.
'They're just like us,' he said. 'They're not devil worshippers. I told them we were also camping out as well and asked if they had any matches so we could light a fire.'
And that was the Devil Worshippers of the Downs. Bob and Brian knew all along they weren't devil worshippers but decided to wind us up.
There was this favourite stretch of woodland we had on the Downs. It's now a nature reserve, though it wasn't at the time. It's on a steep slope and half-way up is a clear plateau that juts out.
We were camped a few hundred yards from the plateau, and a bit above it. On this particular night there were six of us. We had our spot and everyone had their sleeping bags out (those dreadful German army ones that had sleeves and could by folded up to make a kind of jacket. I'm sure we've all had one of those at some stage). Two of our number (let's call them Bob and Brian - not their real names) said they were going to go and get pizza! They didn't want to cook. As I recall, I said that if you are going for that then get me some special fried rice (I don't like pizza, though I do like the look and idea of it).
Off they trudged down hill to go and get everyone's order. In the meantime we got a fire going and everyone got settled. About an hour later they are back.
'You'll never guess what we've just seen,' they say, all serious and hushed.
We looked at them expectantly.
'On the plateau we saw a large fire and a group of people, dancing around it. Not just dancing but they were all holding hands and chanting. It looked more like a ceremony. Like DEVIL WORSHIPPERS!'
We all laughed. Just a wind up, surely. But inside, I know I was personally spooked more than a little.
We all joked amongst ourselves, but it was obviously nervous laughter and you could tell everyone was edgy.
'Let's go and take a look,' says Colin (again, not his real name).
You could see hands surreptitiously going in bags, to take out penknives or what have you. Just in case. I know I did!
Then we filed off into the dark, down the narrow paths and tracks through the trees. Up ahead, Colin was leading, with Bob and Brian behind him. Behind them was Dan (Colin's brother), then Bert, and finally myself (don't read anything in to that!).
We knew these woods like the back of our hands and we wound down the hill and then back up to the plateau so we could approach it from a hidden path.
As we neared the plateau I saw a sudden flash of flame ahead. It was true! There were people on the plateau and they had a large fire. We got nearer. I could hear voices. Bob and Brian had been correct - there were devil worshippers ahead of us!
I made sure I had that knife firmly in my hand.
'Someone go out and have a better look,' said someone - I couldn't work out who spoke.
'You're up front,' said Bob or Brian. 'Go on Colin - see what they're up to.'
'No way!' whispered Colin, but firm and hard.
And then, all of a sudden, I saw Colin lurch forward, out on to the plateau! I saw him stand, silhouetted against the flames, he paused and looked back at us and then he walked toward the fire.
'If they do anything to him,' declared Dan, 'I will kill everyone one of them! I swear it - they better leave my brother alone.'
Of course, we would all be honour-bound to jump in to defend Colin (even though, to be quite frank with you, he could be a right bell-end on occasion).
And then, after a minute or two, we could see him walking back toward us!
What had happened?
'Cheers, you two,' said Colin to Bob and Brian. 'Thanks for pushing me out there, you pair of cocks.'
Bob and Brian started giggling.
'What happened?' asked a desperate voice.
Colin held out a box of matches.
'They're just like us,' he said. 'They're not devil worshippers. I told them we were also camping out as well and asked if they had any matches so we could light a fire.'
And that was the Devil Worshippers of the Downs. Bob and Brian knew all along they weren't devil worshippers but decided to wind us up.
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For me, I’d need to see it myself.
I have had two experiences that shook me and I cannot logically explain.
I find the paranormal very interesting, but I do find that the majority of people who are believers spend their entire time trying to convince others that the truth is out there etc and that any questions lends them to become defensive.
I did provide medic/safety cover (independent) to a ghost hunt once, best bit of theatre I’ve seen for ages!
Yep, I would have to see it with my own eyes. I have experienced an uncomfortable sensation whenever I walked into a particular place that I cannot explain but not seen anything evidential.
My sister says she saw a black dog on two occasions in our old family home but, again, I didn't see it so remain unconvinced.
However, that is not the same as denial; I keep an open mind and I accept there is still more in this world to understand than already explained.
In my early days as a writer I did a series of articles on famous hauntings of the county (the above mentioned girl of Blue Bell Hill was one of them).
One of those was the ghost of Rochester Castle.
I visited the castle and spoke to one of the curators about the haunting.
He also expressed a long-standing interest.
Since the date of the haunting was a couple of weeks away we decided that we would spend the night in the castle to see what happens.
We were professional about it, and spread florescent powder along the passages. Our base was in the main entrance. Every now and then we would walk around the castle to see if anything made its presence known.
Nothing.
Nonetheless, it was quite possible the most bloody terrifying night of my life.
But no ghost.
I also remember driving back from a friend's house late one night.
This was down a winding country lane.
At one point I saw this shimmering pale form in the middle of the road. I slammed on the anchors! My heart was thumping. I put the car into reverse but stayed where I was. Curiosity got to me, so I put it in first gear and edged forward.
Then I realised what it was - steam coming from a drain that caught the beam of my headlights. Tell you what though, for a few seconds I really wasn't sure.
Back to the spirit of the OP.
In a nearby park there's a stone gazebo. It was built from the donations gathered by the soldiers who were billeted in the park before being shipped off to America to fight in the Revolutionary War/War of Independence.
Local legend has it that if you walk three times around it, anti-clockwise, at midnight, the ghost of someone who hung themselves from it appears.
We never did have the courage to see what would happen if we tried.
One of those was the ghost of Rochester Castle.
I visited the castle and spoke to one of the curators about the haunting.
He also expressed a long-standing interest.
Since the date of the haunting was a couple of weeks away we decided that we would spend the night in the castle to see what happens.
We were professional about it, and spread florescent powder along the passages. Our base was in the main entrance. Every now and then we would walk around the castle to see if anything made its presence known.
Nothing.
Nonetheless, it was quite possible the most bloody terrifying night of my life.
But no ghost.
I also remember driving back from a friend's house late one night.
This was down a winding country lane.
At one point I saw this shimmering pale form in the middle of the road. I slammed on the anchors! My heart was thumping. I put the car into reverse but stayed where I was. Curiosity got to me, so I put it in first gear and edged forward.
Then I realised what it was - steam coming from a drain that caught the beam of my headlights. Tell you what though, for a few seconds I really wasn't sure.
Back to the spirit of the OP.
In a nearby park there's a stone gazebo. It was built from the donations gathered by the soldiers who were billeted in the park before being shipped off to America to fight in the Revolutionary War/War of Independence.
Local legend has it that if you walk three times around it, anti-clockwise, at midnight, the ghost of someone who hung themselves from it appears.
We never did have the courage to see what would happen if we tried.
Used to live behind the upper bell top of blue bell hill in 1970s the hitch hiker tale is well known in Maidstone and medway towns. Also pluckley spent many a Halloween as a late teenager lurking around the graveyard etc. Never saw any phantoms though.
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these are great stories! I've seen / felt / heard many strange things in my life. I come from a family that also report similar things, so whether by genes or memes i've been bathed in similar stories of such experiences my whole life. As to belief, or what such phenomena are, I refuse to belief anything. I simply think it's beyond our capabilities as humans to know. Souls of the dead, electromagnetic, delusion, whatever - the stories of the experiences are far more interesting than the attempts at explanation to me.
I was more thinking how Ghost stories could be the next crop circle hobbyists plaything... few mates, few pints , bit of electro trickery-pokery... bish-bash-bosh -ala-ka-zamm!!!
Werewolves on the Moors you say???
< Where is my wookie suit when I need it.
>
Werewolves on the Moors you say???
< Where is my wookie suit when I need it.
>
