July 26, 2024 • 30 mins
Unexplained Season 7 has now finished but we’ll be back on Friday September 6th to begin Season 8.
In the meantime, I’m going to be replaying some of my favourite episodes from the archives.
This week we’re heading back to Sussex in the south of England to explore the dark mysteries of Chanctonbury Ring and its bucolic surrounds.
Long thought to be a hotbed of strange and peculiar activity, In the 1970s, one local resident set out to dig a little deeper into the mystery only to find a little more than he bargained for...
Go to @unexplainedpod, facebook.com/unexplainedpodcast or www.unexplainedpodcast.com for more info. Thank you for listening.
See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Hello, This is Richard mc lean smith, host of Unexplained. Unexplained.
Season seven has now finished, but will be back on Friday,
September sixth to begin season eight. In the meantime, I'm
going to be replaying some of my favorite episodes from
the archives. This week, we're heading back to Sussex, in
the south of England to explore the dark mysteries of
(00:22):
Chanctonbury Ring, long thought to be a hot bed of
strange and peculiar activity in the nineteen seventies, One local
resident set out to dig a little deeper into the mystery,
only to find a little more than he bargained for.
As some of you may guess, the title of the
episode is a reference to The Lark Ascending, a stunningly
(00:44):
beautiful and stirring piece of music written by the magnificent
Rape Vaughn Williams. The piece was very much inspired by
the region of Sussex where Vaughan Williams grew up, although
judging by the sweet nature of his composition, ours wasn't
the kind of story he had in mind when he
wrote it. So without further ado, here is Unexplained Season four,
(01:10):
Episode eighteen, The Dark Ascending Ambling across the South Downs,
a large stretch of chalk hills, valleys and woodland just
(01:31):
to the north of the south coast of England, you
might chance upon a peculiar collection of beech trees perched
atop a prominent spot on its northern edge. The trees,
first planted by local landowner Charles Goring in seventeen sixty,
but later replaced after being destroyed by a hurricane in
(01:51):
nineteen eighty seven, marked the spot of an ancient circular
structure believed to date back to the Bronze Age, known
to day as Changtonbury Ring. The original purpose of the
site remains unknown, with suggestions ranging from the mundane, such
as it having been first used as little more than
(02:12):
a livestock enclosure, to the sublime, with others believing instead
that it may well have been some kind of religious
or mystical shrine. Some, however, have claimed it to have
been used for an altogether different purpose, and that the
ring had in fact been created by the devil. A
(02:33):
worthy feature, you might say, for an area of England
long thought to have hosted more than its fair share
of unexplained phenomena. Some have put the bizarre activity that
seems to plague this quiet part of the countryside in
the County of Sussex to a curse placed on the
local village of Clapham by a disgruntled resident back in
(02:55):
twelve eighty eight, after losing a legal case against a
local part Robert Lafulconer was said to have damned the
accursed village and all its meager holdings, stating that the
priesthood of a false god would soon come to know
its fate. Others, however, argue it had begun a long
(03:16):
time before, with Changdonbury believed to be the site of
an otherworldly power, being thought to have once been the
location of a former Druidic temple used for ancient and
mysterious rituals. Back in the nineteen twenties, local resident and
famed occultist Victor Neuberg, along with his cohort and sometime
(03:37):
lover Alister Crowley, was said to have taken a keen
interest in the area. According to local law, if one
were to venture to the ring at midnight on a
Midsummer's Eve and walk its circumference twelve times, the midnight drew,
it would appear or even the devil themselves Other local
(03:58):
tales speak of a white bearded Saxon soldier believed to
have been killed at the Battle of Hastings in ten
sixty six, seen scrabbling about the floor looking for something,
while some report the sightings of hazy lights and strange
apparitions seen in the area at night, with some suggesting
that they might have something to do with a nearby
(04:21):
plague pit. Perhaps the most romantic of all the ghost
stories that shroud the area is that of the ghost
of Prince Agasaclis cyanesis a famed astrologer from Carrier in
western Anatolia. As legend goes, it was in the early
seventeenth century that the prince began using Changdonbury Ring to
(04:42):
observe the stars, when one night, after writing the words
Sir Pelli Ubi kakidi bury me wherever I have fallen,
he fell down dead. It is said that to this
day the astrologer can still be seen wandering the ring
of trees at night. You're listening to Unexplained and I'm
(05:04):
Richard mc lean smith. It was the morning of all
Hallow's Eve back in nineteen seventy eight, when Reverend Harry
Snelling made his way to the town of Goring in
West Sussex for a routine dental operation. Riding the bus
(05:26):
into town, the sixty five year old recently retired vicer
chatted amiably with his former parishioners before arriving at the
dentist just in time for his appointment later that afternoon.
Having arrived in Findon, four miles from the town of Stenning,
where he lived, Snelling called his wife from a phone
(05:47):
box and asked if she could pick him up. However,
since their car had broken down recently and was still
in need of servicing, Snelling had no other choice but
to make the journey on foot. A short time later,
with dusk descending, Snelling was seen heading off the main
road and striking out across the downs in the direction
(06:10):
of his home. As evening turned to night, Snelling's wife
waited anxiously for her husband's return, but Harry never made
it home. The next day, after he was reported missing,
twenty five police officers from the surrounding area were immediately
dispatched to search for him, focusing their attention on the
(06:34):
most likely route he would have taken to get home.
For the best part of a week, the police, assisted
by search dog teams, a raft of volunteers, and even
a light aircraft tried desperately to find any sign of
the man, but in the end found nothing. A few
days later, the search was called off, with no reason
(06:56):
to suspect anything otherwise. It was assumed at Snelling had
either tragically ended his own life or had collapsed and
died somewhere and was yet to be found. At the
time of the reverend's disappearance, Charles Walker worked as a
sales assistant in Worthing, just five miles south of where
the retired clergyman was last seen alive. In his spare time, however,
(07:22):
Walker had become somewhat of an expert on the peculiar
history of his local area, collecting and documenting evidence that
seemed to suggest that something very sinister had been brewing
there for quite some time. Could it be he thought
that there was a little more to the reverend's disappearance
than first met the eye. Having always been fascinated by
(07:54):
the possibility of the paranormal, it was back in April
nineteen seventy two that Charles W. Walker's interest was really piqued.
It was then that the region's numerous apparent mysterious happenings
were given a thoroughly modernized slant. Three friends from Walker's
hometown had ventured up toward Chantonbury Ring late one night
(08:17):
when they noticed a soft light flickering from within it.
Having assumed it to be nothing more than a bonfire,
they were surprised to find when they arrived at the
trees moments later, that the light had gone out and
there was no sign of anyone else around. It was
only then, as one of the group later recounted, that
(08:39):
a sudden wish from above drew their attention to the
dim red glow of some kind of object that was
hovering just above the tree tops in front of them.
A moment later, they watched it as it shot up
into the sky, though its possible significance to the wider
story was not yet a pass to Walker. It was
(09:01):
around the same time that local police officer Peter Goldsmith disappeared.
It was in June of that year that Goldsmith, who
like Harry Snelling, also lived in Stenning, left work after
completing his shift for the day, but never made it
back home. It wasn't until six months later that a
(09:23):
local farmer, helping to coordinate a hunting party at a
nearby farm just west of Stenning discovered Goldsmith's dead body
hidden under a thick growth of brambles at the edge
of the farmland. The body was found curled up on
its left side, as if Goldsmith had merely gone to sleep.
(09:44):
A bottle of brown liquid was also found next to
the body. While curiously clutched in the hand, police found
what was described as some kind of metal disk like
a token, With many assuming the liquid had been some
of poison, the coroner was stumped when it was in
fact found not to have been poisonous at all. With
(10:07):
no definitive cause of death, there was no choice but
to record an open verdict, with some form of suicide
thought to be most likely. However, many were left wondering
not only how search teams had failed to spot Goldsmith's
body despite investigating that area extensively, but also how on
(10:28):
earth he managed to place himself under such a thick,
impenetrable mesh of brambles, which had to be cut away
in order to extract the body. Though brambles can grow
up to three inches in a day, the extent to
which the body had been hidden was something of a surprise.
(10:52):
Over the next few years, Walker, having joined a local
paranormal research group, continued to keep an ear out for
any peculiar activity, but what he craved most was to
experience something himself, and he wouldn't have long to wait.
It was in August nineteen seventy four that Walker, then
(11:13):
in his early twenties, along with three others, made a
late night research trip to Chantonbury Ring. Walker would later
claim that it was sometime around eleven PM when one
of the group, William Lincoln, stepped into the center of
the ring, only to be suddenly snatched up by an
invisible force and thrust five feet into the air, and
(11:37):
there he would stay for the best part of a minute,
seemingly levitating in mid air as he screamed to be released,
before finally being sent sprawling to the ground. It wasn't
long after that that the dogs started to go missing.
The reports began appearing in local papers in spring of
(11:59):
nineteen seventy, though many believe it had been happening for
some time. The first to be reported was a three
year old and well trained chowdog that was walking with
its family in Clapham Wood, just to the north of
Clapham village in an area known as the Chestnuts, when
it suddenly bolted off into the trees, never to return.
(12:23):
Only a week later, a two year old Collie, an
intelligent working farm dock, was being walked near the same
spot when it too shot off into the undergrowth, never
to be seen again. Not long after, a golden labrador,
while walking in the same woods, became distracted by something
(12:43):
unseen in the trees, before darting off in search of it.
The dog's companions, alerted to its location by the sound
of its desperate whimpers, were devastated to find it in
some distress and unable to walk, which it was later
found to have somehow been paralyzed. The dog was unfortunately
(13:05):
put down, and soon more people came forward to report
their own experiences walking with their dogs at the same location,
describing how they or their dog had clearly felt an uneasy,
ominous atmosphere in those woods. Back at his home in Worthing,
Charles Walker, as ever, followed the stories with the keen interest,
(13:29):
keeping copies of the articles for future reference. A few
months later, a body was found in the woods. Sixty
six year old Leon Foster had been missing for three
weeks when a couple out looking for a horse that
(13:52):
had escaped a nearby paddock, noticed a pair of boots
sticking out from the undergrowth. When police arrive soon after,
they found it to be the body of Leon Foster Straw.
Discovered under and around his body and the remains of
a makeshift shelter tied around the trunk of a nearby tree,
(14:14):
suggested that he'd been living in the woods for some time,
with most assuming that he'd simply died of hunger or
exposure while living outside. However, with the coroner once again
unable to ascertain a precise cause of death, an open
verdict was recorded. It was around this time that Walker
(14:36):
began to wonder if all these mysterious incidences, from the
disappearances to the UFO sightings, not to mention the area's
apparent supernatural history stretching back centuries, might somehow be linked.
Over the next few years, drawing on the various reports
of peculiar activity and the litany of local folklore, claimed
(15:00):
that Shanktonbury Ring and the surrounding area was somehow a
focal point of a cult activity. He wondered if it
might be possible that perhaps an occult organization was using
the area for nefarious purposes. In October nineteen seventy eight,
Walker wrote to the local paper asking its readers for
(15:21):
any information they might have on such a group. Within days,
he was inundated with replies from the mundane to the outlandish.
None of it, however, warranted following up to flate it.
Walker had resigned himself to having found nothing useful when
one night in early November, having just settled down to
(15:44):
watch TV, his phone rang. Answering the call, Walker was
greeted by an assertive sounding man with a low voice
and an RP accent. Though the man wouldn't identify himself,
he claimed to have the information that Walker was looking for,
and suggested the pair of them meet up to discuss
(16:06):
it further. Though Walker couldn't say exactly why, it was,
unlike all of the other responders to his request, something
about this caller seemed genuine. Walker duly agreed to meet
up with him, assuming they would set a date to meet,
either at his home or somewhere neutral. But the man
(16:28):
had something else in mind. Tonight, he said At nine pm.
Walker looked at the clock on his wall, the hands
now pointing to eight thirty. I'll be waiting for you
in Clapham Woods, by the crossroads and the chestnuts, he said,
and then he hung up. It was pitch black when
(17:01):
Walker arrived twenty minutes later at the top of Titnaw Lane,
a small rise overlooking the forest beyond. Making his way
toward the entrance road, he noticed the car park to
the woods was completely empty, with only the sound of
an occasional car passing along the road behind him. Walker
(17:23):
pushed on through a gate and into the trees behind.
With the gentle roar of distant traffic having disappeared altogether
and only the sound of his own footsteps for company,
Walker pressed on toward the cross roads, anxiously listening out
for any hint of some one else approaching. Arriving at
(17:45):
the meeting point at nine on the dot, Walker called
out for a response, but heard nothing in return. The
place was deserted. Only then did Walker realize his hands
were shaking, but not from the cold night air. Lighting
a cigarette to calm his nerves, Walker began to pace
(18:08):
up and down, trying to keep warm as he waited.
By the end of a second cigarette, Walker was beginning
to suspect that it had been nothing but a practical joke,
But just as he started to make his way back out,
he heard some one whisper out from behind some nearby trees.
Don't attempt to look for me, the voide said, for
(18:31):
your safety and mine, it is imperative you do not
see who I am. Walker froze, immediately recognizing it as
the man he had spoken to earlier. After Walker agreed
to keep looking the way he was facing, the man
began to talk. I am an initiate of the Friends
(18:53):
of her CARTI, named after the Greek goddess of magic, witchcraft,
and the Night. We are the group you've been looking for,
he said, and it would be in your best interests
to stop looking. Unperturbed, Walker asked the man if the
group had anything to do with the recent disappearances, without
(19:16):
going into too much detail, the man replied that their
rituals occasionally required a blood sacrifice, if that was the
answer he was looking for. And so it continued as
the increasingly nervous Walker listened carefully as the man explained
how the group had been operating in that area for
(19:37):
at least ten years because the atmosphere of the woods,
as he described it, was perfect for their purposes, but
when Walker inquired as to what that purpose was exactly,
the man fell silent. He then explained to Walker that
they had friends in very high places, before warning him
(19:59):
again to buy cough and that they would stop at
nothing to ensure the safety of their cult. Then there
was another silence. When Walker called out moments later, it
was clear he was once again alone. Hurrying out of
the forest, Walker was relieved to finally make it back home.
(20:22):
A few days later, while cycling home from work, Walker
heard a car pull up close behind him. He barely
felt the bump before finding himself sprawled on his back
in the middle of the road, watching aghast as the
car sped off into the distance before he could make
note of its details. After lying low for the next
(20:51):
six months, in the spring of the following year, Walker
renewed his search for evidence of the Friends of her
Cart's activities. One morning, whilst walking through the grounds of
the Church of Saint Mary the Virgin, just south of
Clapham Woods, Walker was distracted by the site of the
town's manor house next door, but more specifically by the
(21:14):
medieval barn that still stood on its grounds. The house
had been occupied for some time, but seeing that the
barn door was open, Walker began to wander. Quickly checking
that no one was around, Walker leaped over the church wall,
scooted up the driveway and ducked into the barn. Looking up,
(21:37):
he gasped at the sight of a bizarre mural on
the wall, about three foot high in size. It was
apparently composed primarily of a demonic looking entity with a
huge horned head, scaly body, and forked tail. In its hands,
it held a sword and chalice, ancient symbols of fertility,
(22:01):
and behind it a bank of flames licked up from
the ground. Hearing a sound outside, Walker looked out to
see a man running toward him. In panic, he bolted
away as the man gave chase, before managing to lose
him in the woods. Over the next few years, Charles
(22:22):
Walker continued hunting for evidence not only of the apparent
occult group's existence, but also of their connection to the
many strange events that had taken place in the area
over the last few years, but the group and its
members remained elusive. In August nineteen eighty one, officers at
(22:45):
Worthing Police station received a package with a battered and
disheveled wallet inside, along with a crudely drawn map of
some woods located on the Sussex Downs, about a mile
to the northwest of Stenning. Examining the bank cards in
the wallet, police found the name Harry Snelling embossed on
(23:06):
the front of them, as an accompanying letter explained the
center of the package. A tourist from Canada named Michael
Rain had found a human skeleton while walking across the
Downs the previous week, which he believed to be the
remains of Reverend Snelling. Since he had an important flight
to catch, Worried that he would be dragged into a
(23:28):
lengthy police investigation, Rain decided instead to send the wallet
as evidence of his find and a map to explain
where the remains could be located. Following the instructions, later
that day, police found the skeleton at the north edge
of some woodland close to a property known as Whiston House.
(23:51):
Not only were they surprised to find that the bones,
despite having supposedly been there for almost three years, had
not been much obscured by surrounding vegetation, but also that
the area in which they were found had been thoroughly
searched numerous times before. It wasn't long after the discovery
(24:17):
of Snelling's remains that others began to notice the suspicious
number of unexplained deaths and other events that seemed to
be plaguing this quiet, unassuming area of the English countryside.
Writing in the paranormal magazine unexplained that year, Toy Newton,
without any reference to the Friends of Herkati, made his
(24:41):
own effort to document the bizarre collection of events. A
few months later, he received a curious letter from a reader.
Dear Sirs, it began in your article on Clapham Woods.
You ask of the mysterious events a link to a
black coven. I can tell you they are, but it's
(25:04):
much more than that. They are called the Friends of Hakati,
and they meet in the woods and the barn up
by the church and make ritual sacrifices. At the time
of Orion. The Archer people get headaches and strange feelings
at Clapham because the place is building up vibrations so
(25:26):
they can get the force that they want. Sometimes this
strange force has even started fires, but everything is hushed up.
They can make people do what they want. I can't
sign my name, but be warned they are much more
powerful than a black coven. If you enjoy Unexplained and
(25:55):
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forward slash Unexplained Pod to sign up, or if you'd
like to make a one time donation, you can go
(26:15):
to Unexplained podcast dot com forward Slash Support. All donations,
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before been covered on the show, is now available to
buy worldwide. You can purchase through Amazon, Barnes and Noble,
and Waterstones, among other bookstores. All elements of Unexplained, including
(26:39):
the show's music, are produced by me Richard mclin smith.
Please subscribe and rate the show wherever you listen to podcasts,
and feel free to get in touch with any thoughts
or ideas regarding the stories you've heard on the show.
Perhaps you have an explanation of your own you'd like
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dot com or Twitter at Unexplained Pod and Facebook at
(27:02):
Facebook dot com Orward Slash Unexplained Podcast. This episode was
written by Richard McLain smith Unexplained as an AV Club
Productions podcast created by Richard McClain Smith. All other elements
(27:23):
of the podcast, including the music, are also produced by
me Richard McClain smith Unexplained. The book and audiobook, with
stories never before featured on the show, is now available
to buy worldwide. You can purchase from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Waterstones,
and other bookstores. Please subscribe to and rate the show
(27:44):
wherever you get your podcasts, and feel free to get
in touch with any thoughts or ideas regarding the stories
you've heard on the show. Perhaps you have an explanation
of your own you'd like to share. You can find
out more at Unexplained podcast dot com and reaches of
line through Twitter at Unexplained Pod and Facebook at Facebook
(28:04):
dot com, Forward Slash Unexplained Podcast, assass
Hello, This is Richard mc lean smith, host of Unexplained. Unexplained.
Season seven has now finished, but will be back on Friday,
September sixth to begin season eight. In the meantime, I'm
going to be replaying some of my favorite episodes from
the archives. This week, we're heading back to Sussex, in
the south of England to explore the dark mysteries of
(00:22):
Chanctonbury Ring, long thought to be a hot bed of
strange and peculiar activity in the nineteen seventies, One local
resident set out to dig a little deeper into the mystery,
only to find a little more than he bargained for.
As some of you may guess, the title of the
episode is a reference to The Lark Ascending, a stunningly
(00:44):
beautiful and stirring piece of music written by the magnificent
Rape Vaughn Williams. The piece was very much inspired by
the region of Sussex where Vaughan Williams grew up, although
judging by the sweet nature of his composition, ours wasn't
the kind of story he had in mind when he
wrote it. So without further ado, here is Unexplained Season four,
(01:10):
Episode eighteen, The Dark Ascending Ambling across the South Downs,
a large stretch of chalk hills, valleys and woodland just
(01:31):
to the north of the south coast of England, you
might chance upon a peculiar collection of beech trees perched
atop a prominent spot on its northern edge. The trees,
first planted by local landowner Charles Goring in seventeen sixty,
but later replaced after being destroyed by a hurricane in
(01:51):
nineteen eighty seven, marked the spot of an ancient circular
structure believed to date back to the Bronze Age, known
to day as Changtonbury Ring. The original purpose of the
site remains unknown, with suggestions ranging from the mundane, such
as it having been first used as little more than
(02:12):
a livestock enclosure, to the sublime, with others believing instead
that it may well have been some kind of religious
or mystical shrine. Some, however, have claimed it to have
been used for an altogether different purpose, and that the
ring had in fact been created by the devil. A
(02:33):
worthy feature, you might say, for an area of England
long thought to have hosted more than its fair share
of unexplained phenomena. Some have put the bizarre activity that
seems to plague this quiet part of the countryside in
the County of Sussex to a curse placed on the
local village of Clapham by a disgruntled resident back in
(02:55):
twelve eighty eight, after losing a legal case against a
local part Robert Lafulconer was said to have damned the
accursed village and all its meager holdings, stating that the
priesthood of a false god would soon come to know
its fate. Others, however, argue it had begun a long
(03:16):
time before, with Changdonbury believed to be the site of
an otherworldly power, being thought to have once been the
location of a former Druidic temple used for ancient and
mysterious rituals. Back in the nineteen twenties, local resident and
famed occultist Victor Neuberg, along with his cohort and sometime
(03:37):
lover Alister Crowley, was said to have taken a keen
interest in the area. According to local law, if one
were to venture to the ring at midnight on a
Midsummer's Eve and walk its circumference twelve times, the midnight drew,
it would appear or even the devil themselves Other local
(03:58):
tales speak of a white bearded Saxon soldier believed to
have been killed at the Battle of Hastings in ten
sixty six, seen scrabbling about the floor looking for something,
while some report the sightings of hazy lights and strange
apparitions seen in the area at night, with some suggesting
that they might have something to do with a nearby
(04:21):
plague pit. Perhaps the most romantic of all the ghost
stories that shroud the area is that of the ghost
of Prince Agasaclis cyanesis a famed astrologer from Carrier in
western Anatolia. As legend goes, it was in the early
seventeenth century that the prince began using Changdonbury Ring to
(04:42):
observe the stars, when one night, after writing the words
Sir Pelli Ubi kakidi bury me wherever I have fallen,
he fell down dead. It is said that to this
day the astrologer can still be seen wandering the ring
of trees at night. You're listening to Unexplained and I'm
(05:04):
Richard mc lean smith. It was the morning of all
Hallow's Eve back in nineteen seventy eight, when Reverend Harry
Snelling made his way to the town of Goring in
West Sussex for a routine dental operation. Riding the bus
(05:26):
into town, the sixty five year old recently retired vicer
chatted amiably with his former parishioners before arriving at the
dentist just in time for his appointment later that afternoon.
Having arrived in Findon, four miles from the town of Stenning,
where he lived, Snelling called his wife from a phone
(05:47):
box and asked if she could pick him up. However,
since their car had broken down recently and was still
in need of servicing, Snelling had no other choice but
to make the journey on foot. A short time later,
with dusk descending, Snelling was seen heading off the main
road and striking out across the downs in the direction
(06:10):
of his home. As evening turned to night, Snelling's wife
waited anxiously for her husband's return, but Harry never made
it home. The next day, after he was reported missing,
twenty five police officers from the surrounding area were immediately
dispatched to search for him, focusing their attention on the
(06:34):
most likely route he would have taken to get home.
For the best part of a week, the police, assisted
by search dog teams, a raft of volunteers, and even
a light aircraft tried desperately to find any sign of
the man, but in the end found nothing. A few
days later, the search was called off, with no reason
(06:56):
to suspect anything otherwise. It was assumed at Snelling had
either tragically ended his own life or had collapsed and
died somewhere and was yet to be found. At the
time of the reverend's disappearance, Charles Walker worked as a
sales assistant in Worthing, just five miles south of where
the retired clergyman was last seen alive. In his spare time, however,
(07:22):
Walker had become somewhat of an expert on the peculiar
history of his local area, collecting and documenting evidence that
seemed to suggest that something very sinister had been brewing
there for quite some time. Could it be he thought
that there was a little more to the reverend's disappearance
than first met the eye. Having always been fascinated by
(07:54):
the possibility of the paranormal, it was back in April
nineteen seventy two that Charles W. Walker's interest was really piqued.
It was then that the region's numerous apparent mysterious happenings
were given a thoroughly modernized slant. Three friends from Walker's
hometown had ventured up toward Chantonbury Ring late one night
(08:17):
when they noticed a soft light flickering from within it.
Having assumed it to be nothing more than a bonfire,
they were surprised to find when they arrived at the
trees moments later, that the light had gone out and
there was no sign of anyone else around. It was
only then, as one of the group later recounted, that
(08:39):
a sudden wish from above drew their attention to the
dim red glow of some kind of object that was
hovering just above the tree tops in front of them.
A moment later, they watched it as it shot up
into the sky, though its possible significance to the wider
story was not yet a pass to Walker. It was
(09:01):
around the same time that local police officer Peter Goldsmith disappeared.
It was in June of that year that Goldsmith, who
like Harry Snelling, also lived in Stenning, left work after
completing his shift for the day, but never made it
back home. It wasn't until six months later that a
(09:23):
local farmer, helping to coordinate a hunting party at a
nearby farm just west of Stenning discovered Goldsmith's dead body
hidden under a thick growth of brambles at the edge
of the farmland. The body was found curled up on
its left side, as if Goldsmith had merely gone to sleep.
(09:44):
A bottle of brown liquid was also found next to
the body. While curiously clutched in the hand, police found
what was described as some kind of metal disk like
a token, With many assuming the liquid had been some
of poison, the coroner was stumped when it was in
fact found not to have been poisonous at all. With
(10:07):
no definitive cause of death, there was no choice but
to record an open verdict, with some form of suicide
thought to be most likely. However, many were left wondering
not only how search teams had failed to spot Goldsmith's
body despite investigating that area extensively, but also how on
(10:28):
earth he managed to place himself under such a thick,
impenetrable mesh of brambles, which had to be cut away
in order to extract the body. Though brambles can grow
up to three inches in a day, the extent to
which the body had been hidden was something of a surprise.
(10:52):
Over the next few years, Walker, having joined a local
paranormal research group, continued to keep an ear out for
any peculiar activity, but what he craved most was to
experience something himself, and he wouldn't have long to wait.
It was in August nineteen seventy four that Walker, then
(11:13):
in his early twenties, along with three others, made a
late night research trip to Chantonbury Ring. Walker would later
claim that it was sometime around eleven PM when one
of the group, William Lincoln, stepped into the center of
the ring, only to be suddenly snatched up by an
invisible force and thrust five feet into the air, and
(11:37):
there he would stay for the best part of a minute,
seemingly levitating in mid air as he screamed to be released,
before finally being sent sprawling to the ground. It wasn't
long after that that the dogs started to go missing.
The reports began appearing in local papers in spring of
(11:59):
nineteen seventy, though many believe it had been happening for
some time. The first to be reported was a three
year old and well trained chowdog that was walking with
its family in Clapham Wood, just to the north of
Clapham village in an area known as the Chestnuts, when
it suddenly bolted off into the trees, never to return.
(12:23):
Only a week later, a two year old Collie, an
intelligent working farm dock, was being walked near the same
spot when it too shot off into the undergrowth, never
to be seen again. Not long after, a golden labrador,
while walking in the same woods, became distracted by something
(12:43):
unseen in the trees, before darting off in search of it.
The dog's companions, alerted to its location by the sound
of its desperate whimpers, were devastated to find it in
some distress and unable to walk, which it was later
found to have somehow been paralyzed. The dog was unfortunately
(13:05):
put down, and soon more people came forward to report
their own experiences walking with their dogs at the same location,
describing how they or their dog had clearly felt an uneasy,
ominous atmosphere in those woods. Back at his home in Worthing,
Charles Walker, as ever, followed the stories with the keen interest,
(13:29):
keeping copies of the articles for future reference. A few
months later, a body was found in the woods. Sixty
six year old Leon Foster had been missing for three
weeks when a couple out looking for a horse that
(13:52):
had escaped a nearby paddock, noticed a pair of boots
sticking out from the undergrowth. When police arrive soon after,
they found it to be the body of Leon Foster Straw.
Discovered under and around his body and the remains of
a makeshift shelter tied around the trunk of a nearby tree,
(14:14):
suggested that he'd been living in the woods for some time,
with most assuming that he'd simply died of hunger or
exposure while living outside. However, with the coroner once again
unable to ascertain a precise cause of death, an open
verdict was recorded. It was around this time that Walker
(14:36):
began to wonder if all these mysterious incidences, from the
disappearances to the UFO sightings, not to mention the area's
apparent supernatural history stretching back centuries, might somehow be linked.
Over the next few years, drawing on the various reports
of peculiar activity and the litany of local folklore, claimed
(15:00):
that Shanktonbury Ring and the surrounding area was somehow a
focal point of a cult activity. He wondered if it
might be possible that perhaps an occult organization was using
the area for nefarious purposes. In October nineteen seventy eight,
Walker wrote to the local paper asking its readers for
(15:21):
any information they might have on such a group. Within days,
he was inundated with replies from the mundane to the outlandish.
None of it, however, warranted following up to flate it.
Walker had resigned himself to having found nothing useful when
one night in early November, having just settled down to
(15:44):
watch TV, his phone rang. Answering the call, Walker was
greeted by an assertive sounding man with a low voice
and an RP accent. Though the man wouldn't identify himself,
he claimed to have the information that Walker was looking for,
and suggested the pair of them meet up to discuss
(16:06):
it further. Though Walker couldn't say exactly why, it was,
unlike all of the other responders to his request, something
about this caller seemed genuine. Walker duly agreed to meet
up with him, assuming they would set a date to meet,
either at his home or somewhere neutral. But the man
(16:28):
had something else in mind. Tonight, he said At nine pm.
Walker looked at the clock on his wall, the hands
now pointing to eight thirty. I'll be waiting for you
in Clapham Woods, by the crossroads and the chestnuts, he said,
and then he hung up. It was pitch black when
(17:01):
Walker arrived twenty minutes later at the top of Titnaw Lane,
a small rise overlooking the forest beyond. Making his way
toward the entrance road, he noticed the car park to
the woods was completely empty, with only the sound of
an occasional car passing along the road behind him. Walker
(17:23):
pushed on through a gate and into the trees behind.
With the gentle roar of distant traffic having disappeared altogether
and only the sound of his own footsteps for company,
Walker pressed on toward the cross roads, anxiously listening out
for any hint of some one else approaching. Arriving at
(17:45):
the meeting point at nine on the dot, Walker called
out for a response, but heard nothing in return. The
place was deserted. Only then did Walker realize his hands
were shaking, but not from the cold night air. Lighting
a cigarette to calm his nerves, Walker began to pace
(18:08):
up and down, trying to keep warm as he waited.
By the end of a second cigarette, Walker was beginning
to suspect that it had been nothing but a practical joke,
But just as he started to make his way back out,
he heard some one whisper out from behind some nearby trees.
Don't attempt to look for me, the voide said, for
(18:31):
your safety and mine, it is imperative you do not
see who I am. Walker froze, immediately recognizing it as
the man he had spoken to earlier. After Walker agreed
to keep looking the way he was facing, the man
began to talk. I am an initiate of the Friends
(18:53):
of her CARTI, named after the Greek goddess of magic, witchcraft,
and the Night. We are the group you've been looking for,
he said, and it would be in your best interests
to stop looking. Unperturbed, Walker asked the man if the
group had anything to do with the recent disappearances, without
(19:16):
going into too much detail, the man replied that their
rituals occasionally required a blood sacrifice, if that was the
answer he was looking for. And so it continued as
the increasingly nervous Walker listened carefully as the man explained
how the group had been operating in that area for
(19:37):
at least ten years because the atmosphere of the woods,
as he described it, was perfect for their purposes, but
when Walker inquired as to what that purpose was exactly,
the man fell silent. He then explained to Walker that
they had friends in very high places, before warning him
(19:59):
again to buy cough and that they would stop at
nothing to ensure the safety of their cult. Then there
was another silence. When Walker called out moments later, it
was clear he was once again alone. Hurrying out of
the forest, Walker was relieved to finally make it back home.
(20:22):
A few days later, while cycling home from work, Walker
heard a car pull up close behind him. He barely
felt the bump before finding himself sprawled on his back
in the middle of the road, watching aghast as the
car sped off into the distance before he could make
note of its details. After lying low for the next
(20:51):
six months, in the spring of the following year, Walker
renewed his search for evidence of the Friends of her
Cart's activities. One morning, whilst walking through the grounds of
the Church of Saint Mary the Virgin, just south of
Clapham Woods, Walker was distracted by the site of the
town's manor house next door, but more specifically by the
(21:14):
medieval barn that still stood on its grounds. The house
had been occupied for some time, but seeing that the
barn door was open, Walker began to wander. Quickly checking
that no one was around, Walker leaped over the church wall,
scooted up the driveway and ducked into the barn. Looking up,
(21:37):
he gasped at the sight of a bizarre mural on
the wall, about three foot high in size. It was
apparently composed primarily of a demonic looking entity with a
huge horned head, scaly body, and forked tail. In its hands,
it held a sword and chalice, ancient symbols of fertility,
(22:01):
and behind it a bank of flames licked up from
the ground. Hearing a sound outside, Walker looked out to
see a man running toward him. In panic, he bolted
away as the man gave chase, before managing to lose
him in the woods. Over the next few years, Charles
(22:22):
Walker continued hunting for evidence not only of the apparent
occult group's existence, but also of their connection to the
many strange events that had taken place in the area
over the last few years, but the group and its
members remained elusive. In August nineteen eighty one, officers at
(22:45):
Worthing Police station received a package with a battered and
disheveled wallet inside, along with a crudely drawn map of
some woods located on the Sussex Downs, about a mile
to the northwest of Stenning. Examining the bank cards in
the wallet, police found the name Harry Snelling embossed on
(23:06):
the front of them, as an accompanying letter explained the
center of the package. A tourist from Canada named Michael
Rain had found a human skeleton while walking across the
Downs the previous week, which he believed to be the
remains of Reverend Snelling. Since he had an important flight
to catch, Worried that he would be dragged into a
(23:28):
lengthy police investigation, Rain decided instead to send the wallet
as evidence of his find and a map to explain
where the remains could be located. Following the instructions, later
that day, police found the skeleton at the north edge
of some woodland close to a property known as Whiston House.
(23:51):
Not only were they surprised to find that the bones,
despite having supposedly been there for almost three years, had
not been much obscured by surrounding vegetation, but also that
the area in which they were found had been thoroughly
searched numerous times before. It wasn't long after the discovery
(24:17):
of Snelling's remains that others began to notice the suspicious
number of unexplained deaths and other events that seemed to
be plaguing this quiet, unassuming area of the English countryside.
Writing in the paranormal magazine unexplained that year, Toy Newton,
without any reference to the Friends of Herkati, made his
(24:41):
own effort to document the bizarre collection of events. A
few months later, he received a curious letter from a reader.
Dear Sirs, it began in your article on Clapham Woods.
You ask of the mysterious events a link to a
black coven. I can tell you they are, but it's
(25:04):
much more than that. They are called the Friends of Hakati,
and they meet in the woods and the barn up
by the church and make ritual sacrifices. At the time
of Orion. The Archer people get headaches and strange feelings
at Clapham because the place is building up vibrations so
(25:26):
they can get the force that they want. Sometimes this
strange force has even started fires, but everything is hushed up.
They can make people do what they want. I can't
sign my name, but be warned they are much more
powerful than a black coven. If you enjoy Unexplained and
(25:55):
would like to help supporters, you can now do so
via Patreon. To receive access to add free episodes, discount
or merchandise, as well as brand new video and audio
content exclusive to Patreon members. Just go to Patreon dot com,
forward slash Unexplained Pod to sign up, or if you'd
like to make a one time donation, you can go
(26:15):
to Unexplained podcast dot com forward Slash Support. All donations,
no matter how large or small, are greatly appreciated. Unexplained,
the book and audiobook, featuring ten stories that have never
before been covered on the show, is now available to
buy worldwide. You can purchase through Amazon, Barnes and Noble,
and Waterstones, among other bookstores. All elements of Unexplained, including
(26:39):
the show's music, are produced by me Richard mclin smith.
Please subscribe and rate the show wherever you listen to podcasts,
and feel free to get in touch with any thoughts
or ideas regarding the stories you've heard on the show.
Perhaps you have an explanation of your own you'd like
to share. You can reach us online at Unexplained podcast
dot com or Twitter at Unexplained Pod and Facebook at
(27:02):
Facebook dot com Orward Slash Unexplained Podcast. This episode was
written by Richard McLain smith Unexplained as an AV Club
Productions podcast created by Richard McClain Smith. All other elements
(27:23):
of the podcast, including the music, are also produced by
me Richard McClain smith Unexplained. The book and audiobook, with
stories never before featured on the show, is now available
to buy worldwide. You can purchase from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Waterstones,
and other bookstores. Please subscribe to and rate the show
(27:44):
wherever you get your podcasts, and feel free to get
in touch with any thoughts or ideas regarding the stories
you've heard on the show. Perhaps you have an explanation
of your own you'd like to share. You can find
out more at Unexplained podcast dot com and reaches of
line through Twitter at Unexplained Pod and Facebook at Facebook
(28:04):
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