In this quiet corner of eastern Somerset, where the Mendip Hills roll into a patchwork of ancient villages, wooded valleys and open farmland, the landscape holds centuries of history. Places such as Coleford, Mells, Kilmersdon, Vobster and Leigh-on-Mendip have evolved from small agricultural settlements into communities shaped by industry, trade and the fortunes of the surrounding countryside. The Mendips have long been a source of natural wealth, from the Roman exploitation of mineral deposits and centuries of stone quarrying to the coal mines which eventually transformed much of the eastern Mendip landscape. During the 18th and 19th centuries, coal mining became a major source of employment, particularly around Kilmersdon, Coleford, Mells and Radstock, while Mells also developed a notable industrial history associated with ironworking and the Fussell family. Old manor houses, medieval churches, workers' cottages, former chapels and the remains of long-abandoned industrial workings still bear witness to the generations who lived and worked here. Beneath the familiar rural appearance lies a much older story of hardship, industry, changing fortunes and deeply rooted village communities – a landscape where history and local tradition have become inseparable. Coleford Set among the rolling Mendip Hills, Coleford has a history deeply rooted in Somerset's agricultural and industrial past. Originally a small rural settlement, it grew considerably during the 18th and 19th centuries as coal mining became the area's principal industry, bringing employment and new communities to the surrounding countryside. The nearby collieries of Coal Barton, Newbury and Mackintosh were particularly important, although mining was not without tragedy. In 1869, a devastating firedamp explosion at Coal Barton claimed the lives of nine miners. Coleford also has an interesting connection to an ambitious 18th-century engineering project: the ill-fated Dorset and Somerset Canal, abandoned before completion, traces of which can still be found in the surrounding landscape. Today, the village retains reminders of its industrial heritage alongside its quieter agricultural roots. There are several reported apparitions around the village. A white mist has reportedly been seen forming in a gateway on Charmborough Lane, on the road out of the village. The location is said to be close to the scene of a 19th-century pony and trap accident, in which a woman was thrown from the trap and died. Whether the two stories are connected is, of course, impossible to know. A Victorian girl has also allegedly been seen in the area, while a miner carrying a lamp is said to walk down Harris Vale from the main village towards the site of one of the old pit workings, MacKintosh Colliery, where the ghostly sounds of the mine working have been said to have been heard. There are also reports of strange activity in clusters of houses around the former mining areas, including alleged poltergeist activity and unexplained occurrences. Some people have described experiencing a strange or ominous feeling in the older part of the village — an unexplained sense of being watched or of something not quite being right. Upper Vobster/ Coleford - The Old Coalman Perhaps one of the most distinctive local ghost stories is that of the Old Coalman. The apparition is said to be that of a well-known village coalman and has reportedly been seen by several local people while driving through the Upper Vobster area. According to eyewitness accounts, the figure crosses the road ahead of them before disappearing through a hedge. He is described as an older man wearing a long coat and hat, with a beard and a large stick. His appearance has led several witnesses to compare him to Gandalf the Wizard from The Lord of the Rings. Interestingly, the figure reportedly takes no notice of those who see him. He simply continues on his way, apparently following the same routine he might have followed in life. This has led some to describe the encounter as a possible residual haunting — an apparition seemingly replaying an event or routine rather than interacting with the living. One witness reported seeing the figure early one morning in March several years ago, although it is unclear whether all reported sightings occur during daylight or whether there have also been sightings after dark. Babington House & Woods Babington House is near the site of what was once a thriving medieval settlement. The village of Babington had its own church and manor and is recorded in the Domesday Book of 1086. However, its history took a dramatic turn in the 18th century when the estate passed into the hands of the Mompesson and Long families. Around 1705, Henry Mompesson built the present manor house, and by the middle of the century, his niece Elizabeth Long had begun transforming the surrounding landscape into an ornamental park. In doing so, she cleared away the remaining village buildings and rebuilt the medieval church, effectively erasing much of the old settlement. Today, the elegant house and its landscaped grounds occupy a site where an entire medieval community once lived, worked and worshipped. Beneath the peaceful parkland lie the traces of a lost village and centuries of forgotten history. There are reports of strange occurrences around Babington House. A disembodied female voice has allegedly been heard, while lights have reportedly turned themselves on and off and objects have been known to fall to the floor without an obvious explanation. The surrounding Babington Woods has its own stories. There are reports of a mysterious nun-like figure being seen in the woods, leading to speculation about whether the apparition could somehow be connected with the site's medieval past. Could this also be the location of the lost medieval village of Babington? There are further stories of ghostly figures around the house and church, including one particularly atmospheric tale involving mysterious footprints appearing in the snow around the tiny church within the grounds and leading nowhere. Whether these stories have their roots in the area's medieval history or are simply tales that have gathered around an old and atmospheric place over the generations remains open to speculation. There is also a particularly unusual report from Hatchett Hill, where what appear to be a pair of ghostly legs have allegedly been seen walking along the road, with no visible body or upper half. A strange and rather unsettling sight, this is another of the area's unexplained reports. Holcombe Old Church - The Plague Church Tucked away down a quiet farm track, in a secluded valley beneath Downside Abbey, stands the atmospheric Old Church of St Andrew at Holcombe, often known locally as the Plague Church. With origins dating back to the late Saxon or early Norman period, the church is believed to stand within the site of the original medieval village, which local tradition claims was devastated by the Black Death in 1348. According to the story, so many inhabitants perished that the surviving villagers abandoned the settlement and moved uphill, leaving the old village to disappear beneath the surrounding fields. Earth mounds around the churchyard are traditionally associated with the lost settlement. Today, this lonely little church, surrounded by ancient graves and centuries of history, remains a haunting reminder of Holcombe's past. The peaceful churchyard holds another particularly poignant memorial: the Grave of the Five Lambs. A stone monument depicting five lambs commemorates five children – three from the Pole family and two from the Long family – who tragically drowned on 20 December 1899 when the ice gave way beneath them on a local pond. Their little memorial remains a heart-breaking reminder of a winter tragedy that touched two village families. The old church at Holcombe has also attracted its share of ghost stories. Visitors and local investigators have reported hearing the sounds of children playing, while others describe a dark or ominous presence around the church and churchyard. Voices have allegedly been captured and heard in and around the churchyard, while other reports include singing and footsteps coming from inside the locked church. Whether these sounds have a natural explanation or something rather more unusual is open to interpretation — but an old, empty church at night certainly provides an atmospheric setting for such stories. The Jolliffe Arms – Kilmersdon At the heart of the Somerset village of Kilmersdon stands the Jolliffe Arms, a historic country inn dating back to the early 18th century. Its name is closely associated with the influential Jolliffe family, whose connections with the village and the nearby Ammerdown estate helped shape the area’s history. The family acquired considerable land and influence in the late 18th century, leaving a lasting mark on the local landscape. With its traditional stonework and centuries-old village setting, the Jolliffe Arms is a reminder of Kilmersdon’s past, when village inns were important gathering places for local residents, workers and travellers. The Jolliffe Arms at Kilmersdon has its own darker tales. In May 2009, a team of ghost hunters allegedly reported detecting the presence of a young boy named Thomas, said to have died after being starved by his father in the attic. A phantom woman is also reputed to haunt the site, while reports have included the sound of a crying baby and footsteps heard upstairs. As with many historic pub ghost stories, the details have become part of the folklore surrounding the building, although the individual claims are difficult to substantiate. Mells The village of Mells has long had its own atmosphere of mystery. Mells has roots stretching back to Saxon times and is recorded in the Domesday Book of 1086. Its history is closely intertwined with Mells Manor, a fine Tudor house acquired by the Horner family in 1543 following the Dissolution of Glastonbury Abbey. The Horner’s are famously associated with the nursery rhyme Little Jack Horner, which local legend claims refers to Thomas Horner acquiring the manor by finding its deeds hidden inside a Christmas pie. In reality, historical records indicate that the estate was purchased from the Crown, rather than stolen. Once an important centre for ironworking and coal mining, Mells retains a wealth of historic buildings and reminders of its industrial past. Shadowy, monk-like figures have allegedly been seen near St Andrew's Church, while stories have also grown up around supposed tunnels connecting Mells with nearby religious sites. Whether these tunnels ever existed as described is another matter, but the combination of the village's medieval history, ancient buildings and religious connections has certainly provided fertile ground for local folklore. Fussells Iron Works The remains of Fussells Iron Works are another location associated with strange stories. A mysterious black figure is said to have followed people in the area, while a local paranormal investigator reportedly picked up on the presence of an angry male figure. Could this somehow be connected with one of the Fussell family, who were so closely associated with the ironworks and the surrounding property? Or is the mysterious figure simply another piece of folklore attached to an abandoned industrial landscape? Downside Abbey - Stratton on the Fosse Downside Abbey has a fascinating history dating back to 1606, when an English Benedictine community was established at Douai in France. Following the turmoil of the French Revolution, the monks eventually returned to England, settling at Downside in 1814, where they established a monastery and school. The magnificent Gothic Revival abbey church, construction of which began in 1873, was built over several decades and is now recognised as one of England's finest examples of ecclesiastical architecture. For more than two centuries, the abbey was home to generations of Benedictine monks, becoming an important centre of Catholic faith, education and scholarship in Somerset.  There are also vague and largely unsubstantiated reports of dark-robed figures around Downside Abbey. Some accounts describe the feeling of being watched in quieter areas of the abbey, while others mention unexplained footsteps when nobody appears to be present. There have also been reports of figures apparently seen crossing parts of the grounds or disappearing around corners before they can be properly identified. Perhaps unsurprisingly for a place with such a long religious history, Downside Abbey has accumulated its share of stories about unexplained sights and sounds. From former mining communities and abandoned industrial sites to ancient churches, historic houses and quiet country lanes, this part of Somerset has no shortage of stories about things that perhaps cannot easily be explained. Have you experienced anything unusual in Coleford, Upper Vobster, Babington, Holcombe, Kilmersdon, Mells or the surrounding area? We'd love to hear your stories and experiences. With permission, we may add them to our blog or journal. © Somerset Paranormal Sources - Local & Paranormal Somerset - Selena Wright Images - P Wallace/ Petals & Stone Somerset Photography

Longleat is renowned for its magnificent Elizabethan house, its beautiful grounds and its long association with the Thynne family. But behind its grand rooms and impressive architecture lies another, rather darker history: a collection of ghost stories, unexplained occurrences and curious accounts that have become part of the estate’s folklore. Perhaps the best known is the tale of the Grey Lady and the unfortunate young footman whose disappearance is said to have haunted the house for generations. The Grey Lady and the Footman Beneath the Cellar One of Longleat’s most enduring ghost stories concerns Lady Louisa Carteret, who married Thomas Thynne, 2nd Viscount Weymouth, in 1733. According to the legend, Lady Louisa arrived at Longleat with her household staff, including a young footman. Before long, rumours began to circulate that the young servant and Lady Louisa had become rather too close. Whether there was any truth in the gossip is unknown, but the story takes a much darker turn. Thomas Thynne is said to have become consumed by jealousy. In one version of the tale, he confronted the young footman near the old library and a spiral staircase. During the ensuing argument, the unfortunate servant was pushed down the stairs, breaking his neck. Rather than admit what had happened, Thomas supposedly concealed the body in the cellar and told his wife that the young man had simply left his employment. Lady Louisa, however, was not convinced. She continued searching for the missing footman, becoming increasingly distressed by his unexplained disappearance. The story claims that she eventually fell ill and died in 1736, aged just 22, during childbirth. It is said that her spirit never found peace. The Grey Lady is reputed to wander a corridor known as Grey Lady’s Walk, searching for the missing servant. There have been accounts of mysterious footsteps, doors being struck and a figure moving through the house. The late Marquess of Bath was also said to have encountered her. The story gained an even more intriguing twist in 1903, when work was reportedly being carried out to install central heating. A skeleton was allegedly discovered beneath the house, accompanied by fragments of clothing and jackboots said to belong to a footman. According to the tale, the remains were quietly reburied in a local churchyard, close to the grave of Thomas Thynne. Whether the discovery was connected to the legend is impossible to establish, but it has certainly helped keep the story alive. The Bishop in the Library The Grey Lady is not the only spirit said to inhabit Longleat’s magnificent rooms. One of the most frequently repeated accounts concerns the library and an elderly gentleman dressed in dark or scholarly clothing. He is sometimes identified as Bishop Thomas Ken, the former Bishop of Bath and Wells, who spent the later years of his life at Longleat as a guest of the Thynne family. Ken was a notable religious figure of the seventeenth century and died at Longleat in 1711. According to reports, a figure resembling an elderly scholar has been seen sitting in the library, apparently absorbed in a book. On other occasions, witnesses have described seeing someone who simply disappears when approached. The Red Library has its own stories, too. An elderly man dressed in black is said to have been seen reading there, while another apparition is described as a tall, dark-haired young man. Some accounts suggest this younger figure may be connected with a member of the Thynne family who was killed during the First World War. It is possible that some of these descriptions refer to the same apparition, or that different stories have become intertwined over time. Either way, the library seems to have acquired quite a reputation. Lady Alice – The Mischievous Little Ghost Not all of Longleat’s ghost stories are quite so sombre. The house is also associated with the spirit of a young girl, Lady Alice Thynne, who died in 1847. She is said to remain at Longleat, occasionally making her presence known through unexplained mischief around the house. The stories surrounding her are sufficiently well known that Longleat itself has included Lady Alice in its own Halloween ghostly tales. There is something particularly poignant about the idea of a child’s spirit remaining in the place that was once her home, although the accounts of her activities are generally more playful than frightening. The Black Dog of Longleat Longleat also has a connection with one of the oldest traditions in British folklore: the mysterious black dog. For centuries, stories of large, dark, sometimes spectral dogs have been told throughout Britain. Often associated with lonely roads, ancient tracks and wooded places, these creatures are sometimes regarded as omens or supernatural guardians. Longleat is said to have its own black dog, with local accounts associating the apparition with the estate’s woodland. There is even a place known as Black Dog Wood, adding another layer to the folklore surrounding the grounds. Whether the story began with an unexplained sighting, a local superstition or an older tale passed down through generations, it fits neatly into the wider tradition of Britain's mysterious black dogs. The Stone-Throwing Monk Among the stranger stories associated with Longleat is that of a mysterious monk-like figure, reportedly connected with unexplained stones being thrown. Accounts of the figure are rather less consistent than those of the Grey Lady or the library apparition, but the tale adds an unsettling element to the estate’s ghostly reputation. The image of a shadowy religious figure appearing around an old country house is an intriguing one, particularly given the long history of religious upheaval and changing ownership that forms part of the wider story of the English countryside. Strange Occurrences Around the House Not every account at Longleat involves a clearly seen apparition. Some of the reported experiences are much more subtle. Visitors and those familiar with the house have spoken of doors slamming when nobody is nearby, the sound of a young girl's voice being heard as the house closes for the evening, and unexpected scents of lavender appearing without an obvious explanation. These are among the experiences mentioned in Longleat's own ghost-tour material, which explores the stories and strange happenings associated with the house. A Shadow in Wolf Wood More recently, Longleat attracted attention after a shadowy figure was reportedly captured on camera in Wolf Wood, within the Safari Park. In October 2025, Dr Tom Lewis, Longleat's conservation and research manager, spoke about the unusual figure seen on camera-trap footage. The woodland itself has an interesting history: it was once a formally planted grove, and in the 1730s the 2nd Viscount Weymouth kept a menagerie there. Longleat's archivist also recalled stories of the 2nd Marquess of Bath visiting the plantation by moonlight, although she was not aware of earlier ghost reports from the Safari Park area. The figure remains unexplained, but its appearance has added a very modern chapter to Longleat's collection of ghostly tales. A House Full of Stories From the tragic tale of Lady Louisa and the missing footman to the scholarly figure in the library, the mischievous child, the black dog and the shadow in Wolf Wood, Longleat has no shortage of stories to keep its ghostly reputation alive. Some are rooted in the lives of real historical figures; others have been passed down as local legends, changing and developing with each retelling. And, as with so many old houses, it can sometimes be difficult to separate the history from the folklore. Perhaps that is part of Longleat's enduring fascination. Behind its beautiful rooms and grand façade are centuries of family history, secrets, rumours and unexplained accounts — and the possibility that not everyone who once called the house home has quite left it.  © P Wallace - Somerset Paranormal Sources - Longleat Images - Longleat Past & Present

There is something particularly unsettling about hearing a horse and carriage when there should be none. Long after the coaching days of Somerset had disappeared, stories have continued to circulate of coaches heard rattling through the darkness, horses galloping along roads where no horses are present, riders who vanish before the eyes of witnesses, and carriages that appear from nowhere before disappearing just as mysteriously. Some are associated with accidents or tragic deaths. Others seem to have no obvious explanation at all. And while Somerset has no shortage of ghost stories, the tales of its **phantom journeys** are particularly fascinating. They seem to belong to different eras — from the days of horse-drawn coaches and highwaymen to steam trains and even phantom motor vehicles. This is a collection of some of Somerset's ghostly coaches, horses, riders and other unexplained forms of transport. As always with folklore, these are stories and reported experiences rather than established supernatural facts. Some have been passed down locally for generations; others are comparatively modern reports. The Phantom Coaches of Somerset Brockley Combe — the Swerving Coach Perhaps one of Somerset's best-known phantom coach stories comes from Brockley Combe, near Backwell. The wooded combe has a long-standing reputation for strange happenings, including a ghostly coach and four. One version describes a hearse-like carriage drawn by four horses and driven by a headless coachman. Other accounts say that the coach appears suddenly from the darkness and seems to charge towards approaching traffic, sometimes being blamed for accidents. Another version places its appearance at midnight on Christmas Eve, when an eighteenth-century coachman is said to drive the vehicle silently through the darkness, cracking a whip which makes no sound. There are also separate stories of a headless huntsman and a phantom horseman in the same area, suggesting that Brockley Combe has accumulated several layers of ghostly folklore over the years. The stories are not documented in the sense of a contemporary historical record, but the phantom coach is a long-running local tradition, with reports continuing into the twentieth century. It is easy to imagine how such a story might have developed in a dark, wooded combe once travelled by horse and carriage — a place where the sound of hooves could carry a surprisingly long way through the trees. Bossington — the Headless Coachman Another Somerset story concerns the roads around Bossington. A late nineteenth-century account tells of a witness encountering a phantom coach and horses, apparently driven by a headless coachman. The apparition is said to have passed the witness before simply disappearing. It is a remarkably familiar image in British ghost folklore: the coach, the horses and the driver continuing their journey despite apparently belonging to another time. But in Somerset, it appears in several different forms. Holford — the Coach of Nomansland At Nomansland, near Holford, the phantom coach has a very different character. This particular apparition is said to return on Christmas Eve. At the stroke of midnight, an old-fashioned coach pulled by spectral black horses is said to appear and travel up a driveway before turning around and retracing its route. Then it disappears. Some versions of the story describe a lone female passenger sitting inside the coach. She is sometimes said to appear separately on foot, walking along the lonely stretch between Holford and Nether Stowey. Unlike some of Somerset's more dramatic phantom coaches, this one does not charge towards witnesses or cause accidents. It simply repeats the same mysterious journey, year after year. The story is recorded in local paranormal folklore as a recurring Christmas Eve apparition. Porlock Hill — Coaches That Vanish Porlock Hill is notorious for its steep gradient and long history of accidents, and it has acquired its own collection of ghostly stories. Among them are reports of phantom coaches, a hearse and even an old man desperately attempting to stop his bicycle — all appearing briefly before vanishing near the hedgerows. One particularly striking account concerns a coach and four apparently careering silently down the hill towards a Dormobile. The driver of the van saw the ancient-looking vehicle and took evasive action, driving into a nearby field. Three of the passengers also saw the coach. The strange part came afterwards. The phantom vehicle was reportedly seen to cross the road in front of another car, which appeared to pass straight through it. Whether these experiences were caused by unusual atmospheric conditions, misidentification, or something less easily explained, Porlock Hill has certainly accumulated a remarkable body of folklore. When the Coach Arrives Without a Driver Some Somerset stories are particularly strange because the carriage itself seems almost incidental. At Hinton Charterhouse Priory, the gates are said to open by themselves, allowing an invisible coach and horses to enter. Those nearby may hear the sound of passengers inside, apparently distressed. The gates then close again. There is no visible coach. Only the sounds remain. It is a particularly old-fashioned form of haunting — not an apparition that walks through walls, but the continuation of an entire journey which seems to have no physical travellers at all. At Coker Court in East Coker, another phantom carriage is said to drive into the courtyard, collect a passenger and then disappear. At Merriott Manor, phantom horses and a coach are likewise said to pull up at the door. And at Glastonbury Abbey Grange, a ghostly horse and carriage has been reported on the drive. Taken individually, these are brief local stories. Together, they form an intriguing pattern: across Somerset, the traditional horse-drawn carriage seems to have become one of the landscape's recurring supernatural visitors. The Sound of Hooves Not every ghostly journey can be seen. Sometimes it is the sound that comes first. At Laura Place in Bath, although technically outside our Somerset focus, there is a particularly good example of this tradition: the sound of jangling harnesses and clattering hooves is said to pass by, accompanied by the sensation of displaced air as though an actual carriage had just swept past. Similar stories occur in Somerset. At Churchstanton, near Taunton, the sound of phantom hooves has reportedly been heard around Merlan Corner. According to local tradition, the clip-clop is sometimes accompanied by a strange pale mist which appears to transform into a horse carrying a headless rider. And on the main street of East Chinnock, a phantom galloping horse has reportedly been heard. In some versions, the horse is connected with the story of an eloping couple — giving the haunting the feel of a journey that never quite reached its destination. The Quantocks have their own traditions of unexplained horses, carriages and sounds. Research into local folklore has recorded reports of galloping horses and the clash of metal around Cothelstone Hill and the ridge near Broomfield and Ruborough. There is even a local family tradition of a crashing stagecoach apparently racing past a farm, complete with the sounds of breaking glass. Perhaps these stories are reminders of how different the countryside once sounded. Before engines, there were horses. And when a horse galloped along a dark country lane at night, everyone knew exactly what the sound meant. Perhaps that is why the sound has proved so enduring in folklore. The Ghostly Riders The phantom coach does not always travel alone. Somerset has numerous stories of horsemen who appear briefly and then disappear. At Midford Castle, a witness is said to have encountered a headless horseman. The experience was reputedly so terrifying that the man's hair turned white overnight, earning him the nickname "Snowball". At Camerton, on Skinner's Hill towards the A367, a cyclist reportedly saw what appeared to be a man on horseback just after sunset in 1984. The figure wore a cape or long coat and a hat. Then he simply faded away. The witness had travelled the same route hundreds of times and never saw the horseman again. At East Harptree, a cloaked figure on horseback is said to appear on the road outside the Castle of Comfort. In this version, the rider seems to leap through a hedge on one side of the road and vanish through the hedge opposite. And at Duddlestone, in the Taunton Deane area, tradition tells of a headless horseman in a flowing cloak riding a grey horse through the village. The imagery is remarkably consistent. A horse. A rider from another age. And then — nothing. The Highwayman Who Never Gets Away One of the most atmospheric Somerset phantom riders is associated with Thomas Pocock, the legendary highwayman of the Ashcott and Chilton Polden area. According to local tradition, Pocock appears along the A39 riding a black horse. The horse seems to gallop frantically, yet somehow never gets anywhere. The rider is said to sit slumped in the saddle, apparently wounded, as though desperately trying to escape. Some accounts place the apparition as recently as the late twentieth century. The traditional explanation is that the ghost is that of Thomas Pocock, a highwayman who supposedly lived in the area in the early eighteenth century. Little reliable historical information appears to survive about Pocock himself, and the Robin Hood-like details surrounding him belong largely to folklore. According to the legend, he robbed wealthy travellers and shared his spoils with the poor before eventually being captured and executed. The story says that he once hid in a secret cave somewhere near Chilton Priory. Perhaps, the legend suggests, this is why he continues to ride. Still searching. Still trying to escape. Still never reaching his destination. It is a wonderfully persistent piece of Somerset folklore — although the identification of the phantom with a historical Pocock should be treated as legend rather than established biography. A similar horseman is reported at Loxley Woods near Shapwick, where a rider is said to gallop in one place, slumped over the horse's neck, before the horse moves away through the hedges and into the woods. Again, local tradition sometimes identifies the rider with Thomas Pocock. Black Horses, Black Coaches Somerset seems particularly fond of the image of the black horse and black coach. At Cutcombe, an accident blackspot, stories tell of a phantom runaway black coach and headless horses said to frighten motorists. At Nunney, a large black horse and rider is said to trot down the main street towards the castle. Sometimes a large black dog is said to accompany them. The rider has been associated by local tradition with Richard Prater, who was forced to surrender Nunney Castle during the Civil War. And at the mysterious, undisclosed Somerset location where a phantom hearse is said to travel slowly through a hamlet, the apparition has a darker significance: it is reputed to be an omen of an approaching death. The idea of a spectral hearse is, of course, an ancient one. The vehicle is not necessarily the ghost of someone who died. Sometimes it is the warning. A carriage from nowhere, appearing shortly before somebody in the living world is due to leave it. The Phantom Coach and the Accident A number of Somerset's ghost-coach traditions are connected with accidents. At Monkton Farleigh, near the King's Arms, one story tells of a Victorian woman returning home late at night in her carriage. Her horse suddenly bolted. As the carriage approached the inn at speed, it struck a wall and overturned, killing her. According to local tradition, ghostly screams can sometimes still be heard in the nearby lane, accompanied by the phantom thunder of hooves. Whether the haunting developed from the accident or the accident was later woven into an existing ghost story is impossible to say. But this is a recurring pattern in folklore. A sudden death on the road becomes a journey which can never quite finish. The coach continues. The horses continue. The rider never reaches home. Ghostly Processions and Phantom Armies Not every spectral journey involves a single carriage. Somerset also has traditions of groups of ghostly figures. On the road between Chewton village and Queen Charlton, there are reports of apparitions resembling soldiers riding old motorcycles. The modern vehicles make this particularly unusual, although the location is known to have had army camps during the Second World War. Elsewhere, the Quantock landscape carries older stories of unexplained military sounds. Around Dowsborough Hill near Holford, local tradition records reports of the sounds of battle, sometimes associated with a supposed camp of Danish soldiers. Around Cothelstone Hill and the Quantock ridge, there are also traditions of hearing the clash of metal alongside the sound of a galloping horse. One interpretation connects the sounds with the Viking battle traditions of the area; another simply regards the apparition as a phantom horseman. These stories take us slightly away from the traditional phantom coach, but they belong to the same fascinating category of residual or repeating journeys — something from the past seemingly replaying itself across the landscape. When the Horse Became a Motorcycle As the twentieth century arrived, Somerset's supernatural transport stories did not necessarily disappear. They changed. At Dunkery, a phantom motorcyclist wearing a black helmet and leathers is said to appear to motorists. In one particularly strange account, a driver stopped to avoid hitting the motorcyclist — only for the figure to vanish. When the driver continued, he discovered that part of the road ahead had been swept away by flooding. The obvious interpretation is that the phantom somehow prevented the driver from continuing into danger. Was it a ghost? A strange trick of the light? Or simply a coincidence that became a story? We cannot know. But the tale has a striking resemblance to much older traditions in which supernatural travellers appear at precisely the moment they are needed. At Frome, a photograph taken outside the Morton Guest House in 1990 has been interpreted as possibly showing a phantom motorcyclist — although a double exposure of the photographer is considered a much more likely explanation. The location itself had a connection with a fatal motorbike accident in 1940. Again, the story sits somewhere between photographic mystery, local history and ghost folklore. The Ghost Car Not all phantom vehicles belong to the distant past. Near Shockerwick Bridge, on the old Bath road, there is a much more modern story. Around midnight, an old blue Morris Minor is said to appear from nowhere and drive towards oncoming traffic. It is an oddly specific apparition. There is no spectral coachman, no galloping horse and no eighteenth-century clothing. Just an old car suddenly appearing in the darkness. And perhaps that is what makes it so interesting. Ghost stories tend to preserve the technology of their own time. Once coaches dominated the roads, the ghosts travelled by coach. Then came the railway. Then the motor car. The vehicle changes. The mystery doesn't. The Ghost Trains of Somerset Eventually, the journey leaves the road altogether. Somerset's railway lines have their own collection of phantom sounds and apparitions. At Watchet, the legend is particularly striking. A phantom steam engine has reportedly been seen after dark, sometimes appearing to travel along the railway when the line was disused and overgrown. The apparition has been described as a locomotive pulling several trucks. On other occasions, witnesses have reportedly seen only the glow of the firebox. Sometimes the train cannot be seen at all. It can only be heard. The story has been associated with a fatal railway accident in 1857 in which three men died, although the connection is part of the later ghost tradition rather than something that can be established as fact. The image is nevertheless wonderfully evocative: A railway line in darkness. A distant sound. The suggestion of a steam engine approaching. And then nothing. The Somerset & Dorset Railway The old Somerset & Dorset Joint Railwayprovides another setting for phantom railway stories. Although the line closed in 1966, local folklore has preserved reports of distant steam whistles and the sound of trains approaching along sections where the railway is now gone. People have described hearing: * a distant steam whistle; * the sound of a train approaching; * rhythmic clanking and rumbling resembling wheels on rails; * and, occasionally, the smell of coal smoke. The Masbury Summit area, once the highest point on the Somerset & Dorset route, has its own atmosphere of railway folklore. The summit was often shrouded in fog, and local tales tell of hearing trains labouring uphill through the mist long after the railway disappeared. In some versions, a glow can apparently be seen moving through the fog before disappearing. These stories are largely local folklore rather than formally documented hauntings. But perhaps that is exactly what makes them interesting. The railway has gone. The tracks have gone. The trains have gone. Yet the landscape seems, in the stories at least, to remember them. Keynsham — The Train That Passes in Silence At Keynsham railway station, another phantom locomotive is said to pass through the station. Unlike the noisy steam engines of the past, this one is reportedly silent. Some accounts describe witnesses seeing the worried face of a driver as the ghostly train passes. The story has been associated with an early twentieth-century railway apparition and sits neatly alongside Somerset's other phantom railway traditions. At Kentsford railway station, the story is darker. In August 1857, two trains collided, resulting in deaths. Local tradition says that the sound of the collision can sometimes still be heard, with some witnesses even claiming to have seen an engine. And at Vallis Vale near Frome, reports of a ghost train on the old railway track have been accompanied by strange noises and an uncomfortable feeling around the disused line. Once again, the railway may be gone. But in the folklore of Somerset, it seems that some trains never received the message that their journey had ended. Journeys That Never End There is something remarkably consistent about these stories. The coach appears and disappears. The horseman gallops but never reaches his destination. The hearse arrives with no obvious passenger. The motorcyclist vanishes. The old car drives towards traffic and disappears. The train approaches, but never arrives. Perhaps this is why transport makes such an effective subject for ghost stories. A haunting is usually imagined as a person who cannot leave. But these stories suggest something slightly different: a journey that cannot end. For centuries, Somerset has been crossed by people travelling from one place to another — travellers, coaches, horsemen, soldiers, lovers, highwaymen, railway workers and passengers. The roads and tracks have changed. The vehicles have changed. The countryside has changed around them. Yet the stories remain. And somewhere in the darkness, according to Somerset folklore, there may still be a coach waiting to emerge from the mist, a horse galloping where no horse should be, or the distant sound of a train travelling along a railway that disappeared decades ago. Perhaps the strangest thing about a phantom journey is not where it begins. It is that it never seems to end. © P Wallace - Somerset Paranormal Source - Somerset Paranormal, Paranormal Somerset - Selena Wright Images - Clipart, Wellcome Collection, PJW Artworks, Porlock Hill Postcard 1930

Discover the ghostly women of Bath, from mysterious ladies in grey to tragic brides and forgotten legends. Explore the haunted history of Bath and its surrounding streets.

Punkie Night: A Somerset Spectre’s Tradition When the last Thursday of October descends upon Somerset, the air grows chill and the fields of the West Country whisper with an ancient song. For on this night—Punkie Night—children parade through the lanes, their faces lit by the flickering glow of hollowed roots. They chant a haunting refrain that echoes through the darkness: "It’s Punkie Night tonight, It’s Punkie Night tonight, Adam and Eve would not believe, It’s Punkie Night tonight." No soul can say for certain how this eerie rite began. Some claim it is bound to Hallowe’en itself, that night when the veil between worlds thins. The word “Punkie”—an old English name for a lantern—hints at the light that defies the shadows. But unlike the modern pumpkin, these lanterns were once carved from swedes or mangel-wurzels, their twisted grins glowing from pale, gnarled flesh. Others whisper that Punkie stems from punk—tinder that sparks fire—perhaps a clue to the old ways now half-forgotten. Across the centuries, the custom has glimmered in many places: upon the windswept crest of Castle Neroche in the Blackdown Hills, through Long Sutton, and most enduringly, in Hinton St George and Lopen, where the night still belongs to the Punkies. The Legends Behind the Lanterns Local lore tells of the men of Hinton St George, who would vanish to the fair at nearby Chiselborough, returning home drunk and stumbling through the black October night. To find their way, they set candles within hollowed roots, their makeshift lights bobbing eerily in the mist. Yet some tales turn the story on its head. They say it was the women who carved the lanterns—fashioning Punkies from the harvest’s remains—and went searching for their wayward husbands. Some even knocked at doors, begging for mangel-wurzels and candles, their plea giving birth to the Punkie Night song that still drifts through village lanes. Others tell that when the drunken men glimpsed those ghostly lights, they mistook them for spirits or “ghoulies,” fleeing home in terror—proof that even the living may be haunted by their own folly. Though cloaked in folklore, the roots of Punkie Night stretch much deeper—a flicker of Samhain’s ancient fire, carried down through the centuries. It is a night when the old world breathes again, when lanterns gleam like souls in the dark, and the West Country remembers that not all lights are meant to guide the living.  © Somerset Paranormal Image © PJW Artworks #punkienight #somersetfolklore #somersettraditions #somersetpunkienight #Halloween #halloweentraditions

The Lady of Chew Valley Lake: The Legend of Catherine Brown Beneath the waters of Chew Valley Lake, near Bristol, lies a landscape that was once home to farms, houses, roads and the small settlement of Moreton. During the 1950s, the area was cleared to make way for the reservoir, which opened in 1956. Today, much of that former landscape lies beneath the water, although traces of the old settlement and its roads can sometimes become visible when water levels fall. It is against this haunting backdrop that the legend of Catherine Brown is told. According to local folklore, Catherine was a young woman who lived in Moreton in the early twentieth century. The story describes her as a troubled teenager who would sometimes disappear for long periods, causing concern to her parents. One day, she reportedly failed to return home, prompting a search involving her family and local people. During the search, Catherine's mother is said to have told the others that she needed to return home. What happened next is perhaps the strangest part of the tale. According to the story, Catherine's mother later saw her daughter arrive home, soaking wet and unusually silent. Catherine is said to have gone upstairs to her bedroom, where her mother left her undisturbed for the night. The following morning, however, Catherine was reportedly nowhere to be found. A subsequent search allegedly led to the discovery of her body in the water at Stratford Corn Mill, less than a mile away. Some versions of the story claim that she had already been dead for around 24 hours. If the tale is true, had Catherine's mother seen her daughter's spirit return home that night, unaware that she had already died? There is an important distinction between the legend and the historical record: I have not found contemporary evidence confirming Catherine's death or the circumstances described in this account. For now, the story is best treated as local folklore rather than established fact. The Ghostly Woman by the Lake The story does not end with Catherine's supposed death. Over the years, accounts have circulated of a mysterious young woman seen in the vicinity of Chew Valley Lake. She is described as wearing old-fashioned clothing, with long, wet hair, appearing as though she has emerged from the water itself. Reports of these sightings attracted attention in 1999, when local newspaper articles discussed a mysterious figure sometimes referred to as the Lady of the Lake. One reported encounter involved a driver and two passengers travelling along the B3114. They allegedly saw a woman appear in the road before drifting across it. Descriptions attributed to the witnesses spoke of long, wet, wavy hair and old-fashioned dress. The driver is said to have stopped at a nearby pub and contacted the police. The account was subsequently discussed at a local historical or paranormal meeting, where other people reportedly described similar experiences. These reports help establish that stories of a ghostly woman were circulating in the area by the end of the twentieth century. Whether the apparition was Catherine Brown, however, remains a matter of speculation. There are also suggestions of sightings of a similar figure around Barrow Gurney Lake, although it is unclear whether these accounts concern the same supposed apparition. A Ghost, or Something in the Mist? Not everyone would interpret these sightings as supernatural. Chew Valley Lake can produce atmospheric conditions in which mist forms over or around the water. In the right light, moving fog, reflections and shadows can create the impression of a figure crossing a road or moving through the landscape. Could the Lady of Chew Valley Lake be a ghostly presence returning from a tragic past? Could the legend of Catherine Brown have grown around unexplained sightings, with the story and the apparition becoming intertwined over time? Or might there be a more natural explanation for what witnesses believe they have seen? The original story of Catherine remains unverified, but the legend continues to offer a haunting image: a mysterious, water-soaked woman appearing beside a reservoir beneath which an older landscape lies hidden. What do you think? Have you heard of the Lady of Chew Valley Lake, or do you know of any older accounts of Catherine Brown?  © PJW - Somerset Paranormal

The old belief that witches could visit the living in their sleep, pin them down and leave them terrified by morning. Imagine waking in the darkness, conscious of your surroundings but unable to move. Something presses upon your chest. You struggle to cry out, yet no sound comes. Perhaps you sense a presence beside the bed — or see a familiar face watching you from the shadows. For centuries, experiences such as these could be interpreted as something far more sinister than a bad dream. In parts of Britain, people believed they had been visited during the night by a witch or supernatural hag. The experience was known as hag-riding. It was not simply a frightening tale told beside the fire. In the West Country, this belief could have very real consequences, sometimes leading to accusations of witchcraft and physical attacks upon those suspected of causing the torment. What was hag-riding? Hag-riding, sometimes called hagging, was the belief that a witch or malevolent night visitor could attack someone while they slept. Victims might describe a crushing weight upon the chest, difficulty breathing, an inability to move and the terrifying sensation that another being was present. The word nightmare itself has older associations with this nocturnal oppression — the feeling of being held down or crushed by an unseen force. In some traditions, the attacker was imagined as an old woman or hag sitting upon the sleeper's chest. Elsewhere, the experience was blamed on a living person believed to possess harmful supernatural powers. The details varied, but the fear was much the same: something had come in the night, and the victim had been powerless to stop it. A presence in the darkness Today, some of these descriptions sound remarkably like sleep paralysis , a recognised sleep phenomenon that can occur as a person is falling asleep or waking. The mind becomes conscious while the body's temporary muscle paralysis associated with dreaming has not yet lifted. The person may be unable to move or speak, feel pressure upon their chest, or sense an intruder in the room. Some even see frightening figures or shadows. Although sleep paralysis is understood today as a sleep-related phenomenon, it can feel extraordinarily real. Across different cultures, similar experiences have been interpreted as visits from spirits, demons, witches or other supernatural beings. It would be too simple to say that every historical account of hag-riding was a case of sleep paralysis. We cannot know exactly what happened in every instance. But the similarities help us understand how a frightening experience could be interpreted through the beliefs of the time. For someone who believed witchcraft was a real threat, waking unable to move and feeling a presence nearby might seem compelling evidence of an attack. The experience could be terrifying; the explanation depended upon the world in which the person lived. When the nightmare became witchcraft In popular belief, witches were feared not only for supposedly causing illness or misfortune, but for tormenting people through supernatural means. Hag-riding made this threat intensely personal: the supposed witch entered the bedroom and attacked the victim in their most vulnerable moments. If frightening nights continued, a person might come to believe they recognised the attacker. Existing quarrels, local suspicions or a neighbour's reputation could reinforce that conviction. What began as a terrifying experience in the darkness might spill into daylight, becoming an accusation of witchcraft — sometimes with serious consequences. Historian Owen Davies has documented cases of hag-riding accusations in nineteenth-century West Country England, showing that these beliefs survived long after the great period of witch trials had passed. Charms against the hag If the danger was believed to arrive at night, protection had to be close at hand. One object associated with this folklore was the hag-stone — a naturally occurring stone with a hole through it. Such stones were hung near beds or in stables, where they were believed to guard against nocturnal attacks. Horses that appeared exhausted or had tangled manes might also be thought to have been hag-ridden. Prayers and other protective charms could offer reassurance, too. A familiar bedtime prayer was not merely a comforting ritual; it might also be understood as a defence against unseen dangers. These customs belonged to a wider tradition of protective folklore, and not every charm was used specifically against hag-riding. Their meanings varied between places and periods, but they reveal how seriously people could take the threat of supernatural harm. Hag-riding in Victorian Somerset It is easy to imagine that belief in witches disappeared with the witch trials. Yet folklore rarely vanishes so neatly. Historian Owen Davies identified at least six court cases involving assaults connected with hag-riding accusations in Somerset and Dorset between 1852 and 1875. These reports offer a remarkable glimpse into a world where a belief in supernatural attack could still influence real behaviour. One particularly striking case reached the newspapers in January 1875. At Weston-super-Mare, 72-year-old widow Hester Adams was brought before the magistrates after attacking Maria Pring, whom she believed had been tormenting her and her husband at night. Adams described the supposed visitor as appearing spiritually rather than coming bodily, and believed that drawing blood would break the spell. When asked in court what she meant by hag-riding, Adams described it as a person coming to terrify others at night. The case attracted attention well beyond Somerset, with newspapers reporting on a belief many readers considered an astonishing survival from an earlier age. Yet for Adams, this was no mere old wives' tale. She believed she was under supernatural attack and acted against the person she held responsible. The 1875 case was not the only example found in contemporary reports. A Dorset case from 1871 also involved an accusation of hag-riding, in which a young man and an elderly woman were involved. Together, these reports show that the belief was not confined to one extraordinary incident. The last newspaper trail: Somerset, 1929 Nor had the belief entirely disappeared by the end of the Victorian era. In 1929, a dispute between the Sheppard and Lock families on the Somerset peat moors, between Langport and Aller, led to another accusation of hag-riding. Following a series of misfortunes, George Sheppard accused Reuben Lock and his wife of being responsible for the nocturnal torment. This is the latest example I have so far found in the British Newspaper Archive. It does not prove that hag-riding belief ended in 1929, but it offers a remarkable glimpse of an old supernatural explanation surviving into the twentieth century. From frightening experiences in the night to protective stones, accusations of witchcraft and disputes brought into the public eye, hag-riding reveals how deeply folklore could shape people's understanding of the unexplained. The hag might have been invisible to everyone else, but for those who believed they had been ridden in the night, the fear — and sometimes the consequences — were very real. © PJW Image - PJW Artworks Newspaper Articles - British Newspaper Archives 1875

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History - Collett Park owes its existence to John Kyte Collett, a successful businessman who was born in Shepton Mallet in 1836. The story goes that as a boy, Collett was frustrated by being turned off privately owned fields where he and other local children played. He apparently never forgot the experience, and many years later, having made his fortune in Cardiff, he began buying up pieces of land in Shepton Mallet. On 20 June 1906, he presented the land to the town as a public recreation ground, creating the park that now bears his name. Just three years later, in 1909, the park received a royal visit from the Prince and Princess of Wales, the future King George V and Queen Mary, who came to thank Collett personally for his generous gift to the town. Today, Collett Park remains one of Shepton Mallet's much-loved green spaces. Reported Encounter - Perhaps one of the more intriguing stories connected with Collett Park is one with a wartime link. A local story, as told recently on 'The Other Side' BBC Somerset tells of someone walking through the park who saw two young women dressed as Land Girls making their way through the grounds. There was nothing particularly remarkable about them at first — until the realisation dawned that the women appeared to belong to another time. The witness was able to describe the women's Victory roll hair styles, clothing, they had gasmask bags and the fact they were deep in conversation together, she thought they were real people, re enactors or in costume for something, but she looked back to check on her dogs and they had vanished..! She checked local events and couldn't see anything that would explain why they were there.. The Women's Land Army was very much a part of life in rural Somerset during the Second World War, with young women sent to work on farms and in agriculture as part of the wartime effort. So two Land Girls walking through Shepton Mallet would once have been an entirely ordinary sight. Today, however, a fleeting glimpse of two young women in wartime clothing feels rather different — perhaps a rare privilege, to catch a moment from the past lingering quietly in the present, a brief glimpse of what might be a residual haunting. Source - The Other Side - Secret Somerset - BBC/ Luke Knight Listen here - Secret Somerset - The Other Side - Land girls in the park - BBC Sounds Image - PJW Artworks Photo - Shepton Mallet Nub News