Ghost Stories

Now that the nights are drawing in and Autumn starts to turn to Winter, there’s nothing better than to curl up on a cosy armchair, in front of a roaring fire and to share ghostly tales from long ago

Clearly this has been happening in our village for years and years. Tales of mothers warning their young children to go to sleep quickly, to avoid the ghostly apparitions and shadowy forms in the dark corners of the bedrooms

We are fortunate that both Edgar Chappell and Ernie Broad were able to write down some of the scarier (and more lurid) tales

I love the story of the brave local lads exploring subterranean tunnels under the old ruined Castell Coch, seeking an iron chest of Cavalier treasure – only to be confronted by two ghostly royal eagles with burning red eyes protecting it, and then the boys running away in sheer terror. Is the iron chest still there? Was it ever true?

And what about ‘Y Ladi Wen’ scaring all the local boys in the dark woods near the old tithe barn? Or of the ghost of a man called Draper who was found hanged in the tithe barn?

Glenys Evans shares the story of the ghostly apparition of a young servant girl, on dark nights, all in white, wandering near to the hedges on Whitchurch Common

Both Edgar Chappell and Ernie Broad share a tale of an old cobbler and his encounter with the Devil! The old cobbler realising he was speaking to ‘Old Nick’ (who was Hell-bent on damming-up the Taff Valley at the Garth) tricks him into thinking it was miles away, so abandons his mission – if both Edgar Chappell and Ernie Broad tell the story, it must be true!

Some of the local ghost stories, like the roaring lion at Ty Mawr farmhouse were, eventually proved to be wrong, but there are so many more that have become folklore:

The spirit-lady ‘Mallt-y-Nos’, dating from Norman times

The ghostly horse ‘Ceffyl-Dwr’ in the streams at Gwauntreoda, and

The story of the ghost of a grandfather and the silver spurs hidden in the thatch of an old cottage

And what about the White Lady’s Well at Ty Clyd and its special powers (all lost now), the grim story of Llewelyn’s Tree at Penylan Farm at Velindre Road and the ghostly galloping horses in the ruins of Greenmeadow House. The lady owner of Greenhill was convinced that the old Booker house was haunted, and the old sad story of the young girl captured by Royalists, imprisoned and slain at Cilynys, Tongwynlais, the blood-splattered wall and her ghostly apparition

There must be so many more local stories; do you have any that you’re brave enough to share?

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