Category: True Ghost Stories
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The Thing on Tylorstown Road PART ONE: The Night Shift It was late autumn in Tylorstown, the kind of night where the mist rolls down the mountain like it’s alive. Back in 2008, a delivery driver named Gareth Evans was finishing his final drop. The Rhondda roads were quiet, too quiet. Shops shuttered, streetlights flickering,…
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The Tynewydd Schoolmistress If you take the mountain road out of Treorchy toward Blaencwm, there’s a small lay‑by with a view over the valley and the faint ruins of an old house built into the slope below the trees. The people there used to call it Tynewydd House, though by the 1980s, it was just…
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Nestled deep in the folds of the Rhondda, between Tonypandy and Blaenrhondda, there stands, or rather stood, a small, slate‑roofed cottage known locally as “the Black Mountain House.”It’s gone now, demolished after subsidence, but for almost fifty years it was the site of one of the best‑known hauntings in South Wales. This story was first…
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If you drive through the Rhondda Valley on a misty evening, you’ll notice the lights in the terraced houses flickering through the fog, the smell of coal dust still faint in the air, and the deep quiet that settles after sunset. In the 1970s, one small house at the far edge of Gelli was the…
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Tonight’s story comes from the heart of the Rhondda Valley, a place shaped by coal, community, and generations of hard lives lived underground. It’s a place where stories travel fast… and some never fade. This is a true account, shared by a former miner and later documented by local investigators in the early 2000s. It…
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The Rhondda Valley, carved by coal and sweat, is a place of stark beauty and silent tragedy. Its hillsides are dotted with abandoned pits and crumbling terraces, reminders of a time when the valley breathed coal dust and sorrow. And somewhere in that landscape lingers a ghost whose presence has been felt for over a…
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The Cry of the Cwmgwrach In the rolling hills of South Wales, nestled between the forests and abandoned coal mines, lies the small village of Pontypridd. Its history is woven with industry, legend, and tragedy, and locals often speak in hushed tones about one particular presence that haunts the nearby woods: the Cwmgwrach, a ghostly…
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Good evening… Tonight we tell the tragic, true story of a small boy whose fate became one of the most enduring legends of the Brecon Beacons. His name was Tommy Jones. He was just five years old. On the evening of August 4th, 1900, Tommy set out on a journey with his father, a miner…
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If you’re anything like me, you love a beautiful historic house… but even more when it comes with a side of ghost stories. And let me tell you—Tredegar House is absolutely packed with them. Just on the outskirts of Newport, a stone’s throw from the busy M4, this grand estate draws in thousands of visitors…
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Good evening. Tonight, we travel back to the autumn of 1893… to a narrow street in the Rhondda Fach Valley… where a small terraced house became the centre of fear, fascination, and whispered prayers. The village was Ynyshir. The address: Number 12, Whitting Street. In those days, the Rhondda valleys were alive with coal. Rows…
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Kathryn Meredith never thought she would abandon her home in the middle of the night. It began quietly—so quietly, in fact, that she almost ignored it. At first, it was just her daughter Nicola mentioning voices. Soft ones, she said. Friendly, even. They would whisper her name in the dark and ask her to come…
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Good evening. Tonight’s story comes from the Rhondda Valley, in the autumn of 1999 — a time of pumpkins in windows, children planning Halloween costumes… and one family too frightened to sleep in their own home. The house stands on St Stephen’s Avenue in Pentre, Rhondda. Nearly a century old. Red-brick. Semi-detached. The sort of…
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Good evening. Tonight, we take you back to the winter of 1985… to a quiet council house in Rhydyfelin… and to a family who say their Christmas was overshadowed by something they could neither see nor explain. Number 53 Oak Street sits in a neat row of semi-detached homes, the sort of place where neighbours…
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The year was 2009, and I had recently relocated from the bustling city of Cardiff to the serene Welsh valleys, specifically Trealaw Road. Nestled on this quaint road stood a spacious house spanning three floors. However, we predominantly occupied the top two floors, as the basement had fallen into disrepair. Despite its state, remnants of…
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In the year of 1997, a tragic incident claimed the life of Lady Diana, Princess of Wales. It was during this unsettling time that my family, torn apart by divorce, embarked on a new chapter. My mother, two sisters and I were seeking solace in a fresh start. The divorce, though amicable, left us grappling…