Tag: Ghost story
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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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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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This is not a sponsored post, all views are my own. As many of you already know, I’m a huge fan of the Uncanny Podcast—so picking up Into the Uncanny by Danny Robins was never really a question. It felt less like choosing a book and more like continuing a journey I’ve already been on…
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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…