August 20, 2024 • 59 mins
What secrets do the ancient walls of the Ram Inn hold? Join us as we recount the chilling night that John Humphreys first encountered a malevolent force that dragged him from his bed, marking the beginning of a lifelong battle with the supernatural. Discover the eerie history of the Ancient Ram Inn, a place where ancient pagan burial grounds and dark rituals intertwine with tragic spirits and spectral monks, creating a haunting tapestry that challenges our understanding of the past and the present.
As we explore the sacred rituals of ancient pagans unearthed during a renovation in 1997, we uncover how these powerful ceremonies and the redirection of natural streams may have awakened long-dormant spirits. From the sorrowful presence of a woman accused of witchcraft in the Witch's Room to the gentle attempts of young Rosie to connect with the living, we paint a vivid picture of the spirits that still roam the halls of this haunted inn. The tales of spectral monks, a high priestess, and a Roman centurion in the Bishop's Room add layers to the inn's haunted reputation.
John Humphreys' harrowing encounters with an incubus and succubus, as well as his unwavering dedication to preserving the inn despite relentless supernatural activity, underscore the profound impact of past energies on our present lives. As we contemplate the interconnectedness of our experiences and the lasting energy we leave behind, the Ancient Ram Inn serves as a poignant reminder of how the echoes of history shape our world. Tune in to reflect on the blurred lines between our world and the next and challenge yourself to listen to the echoes of the past.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:13):
It was supposed to be just another night, one more
unremarkable night in theendless parade that makes up a
life.
But for John Humphreys thatnight was a live wire, a jagged
thing that would slice deep andleave scars that no amount of
time could ever smooth over.
John was the kind of man whosaw potential in the forgotten,
(00:37):
in the crumbling corners ofhistory that most would tear
down and forget.
He had bought the ancient RamInn in 1968, not just to save it
from the wrecking ball but torestore it, to breathe life back
into the old bones of the place.
But on that first night itwasn't the stillness of a long,
(00:58):
abandoned building that greetedhim.
It was something far moretwisted, something with teeth.
He had settled into bed, pullingthe covers up against the damp,
unforgiving cold that seemed toseep out of the very walls.
The stone was rough-hewn andancient, holding onto the
(01:21):
centuries like a grudge, and thedarkness pressed in, thick and
almost tangible.
He shifted under the coverstrying to find a spot that
didn't feel like it was digginginto his bones, but the unease
of the new place gnawed at him.
Time ticked by, the silencebecoming a weight on his chest.
The silence becoming a weighton his chest.
(01:42):
He could hear the housesettling around him, timbers
creaking, the wind rattling theold windows.
But there was something elsetoo, something just out of sight
, just out of reach, somethingthat made the hairs on the back
of his neck stand on end.
And then it hit him like afreight train in the night A
(02:07):
grip, cold as the grave clampeddown on his arm with a force
that sent him bolt upright.
He barely had time to reactbefore he was yanked out of bed
and dragged across the roughwooden floor, his body scraping
against the boards, as if hewere nothing more than a ragdoll
in the hands of something thatwasn't quite human.
Panic set in his heart,pounding in his chest like a
(02:31):
drum, breath catching in histhroat as he tried to make sense
of what was happening.
But there was no making senseof it.
There was only the terror, therealization that something was
in the room with him.
There was only the terror, therealization that something was
in the room with him, somethinghe couldn't see but could feel
all the same, dark andmalevolent and filled with an
(02:53):
anger that he could taste likecopper on his tongue.
And then, just as suddenly asit had started, it was over the
grip released, leaving himsprawled on the floor gasping
for breath.
In the silence that followed,john lay there, heart thudding
in his ears, every nerve alivewith fear.
This wasn't a bad dream, wasn'tthe product of a tired mind.
(03:24):
No, this was real, too real.
The ancient Ram Inn was alive,pulsing with something dark and
ancient, something that hadreached out of the past and
grabbed hold of him, refusing tolet go.
This was just the beginning,and whatever it was, it wasn't
done with him.
Yet what is it that makes theancient Ram Inn one of the most
haunted places in England?
(03:45):
Is it the blood-soaked historyetched into its walls?
Or is there something else,something older, something that
still lurks in the shadowswaiting?
I'm Jeremy Haig, and this iswhen walls can talk.
Throughout the ages, man hasrepeated the same earnest saying
(04:22):
more of a question, really, orperhaps even a plea if these
walls could talk, but what ifthey do, and always have?
Perhaps their stories, memoriesand messages are all around us.
If only we would take themoment to listen.
On this podcast, wereinvestigate legends and tales
(04:48):
of the past and allow the echoesof their lessons to live on
once again, informing us,educating us and sharing new and
unique insight into the innerworkings of the paranormal and
spiritual world.
Will you dare to listen?
This is when Walls Can Talk thepodcast Ghosts.
(05:20):
They reach out to us in waysthat crawl under our skin and
lodge themselves in the darkcorners of our minds.
We don't just see them.
We sense them fleeting andhalf-glimpsed in the periphery
of our vision.
We hear them in the whispersthat slip through the cracks in
the night and sometimes, ifwe're truly unlucky, we can feel
(05:44):
the icy brush of their touch, atouch that can freeze your soul
in place.
Our journey through the hauntedplaces of the world has led us
to some of the mostspine-chilling spirits and
supernatural entities that spitin the face of death itself.
The lights flicker just for amoment, but long enough to send
(06:05):
a shiver down your spine.
You try to shrug it off, butthe air grows cold and deep down
.
You know the truth You're notalone, not anymore.
Watton Under Edge, a sleepyvillage tucked away in the
Codswolds, seems like the kindof place where nothing bad could
(06:26):
ever happen.
Rolling hills andpostcard-perfect cottages paint
the scene of an idyllic Englishcountryside, but looks can
deceive.
Beneath that peaceful facadelies something much older, much
darker.
This land has secrets muchdarker.
(06:48):
This land has secrets, secretsimmersed deep in the soil, where
the roots of ancient trees haveentangled themselves with the
bones of the forgotten.
Long before the ancient Ram Innwas even a whisper in someone's
mind, this ground was sacred toa people who saw the world in
ways we can barely understand.
They worshipped the earth as aliving, breathing entity, and
(07:09):
they believed that death was notan end but a transformation.
The dead weren't just buried,they were returned to the earth
like seeds meant to grow intosomething new.
The rituals of these ancientpagans were solemn, powerful
affairs, conducted under thewatchful eye of the moon and
(07:32):
carried out with a reverencethat made the very air hum with
energy.
It's hard to imagine what anancient ritual like this might
have felt like, but I imagine afuneral ceremony under a sky
littered with stars, the mooncasting long shadows over a
landscape shrouded in mist.
The scent of burning herbsfills the air and rhythmic
(07:54):
chanting echoes through thenight.
As the tribe gathers to bidfarewell to one of their own,
the body, adorned with sacredsymbols, is laid to rest in the
earth a final loving act.
For these people, the groundwas a cradle, a sacred place
that would hold and protect thesoul as it moved into the next
(08:16):
world.
To disturb such a sight wouldbe to court disaster, to tear
open the veil between the livingand the dead, unleashing
something that was meant to stayconcealed.
Centuries passed and the worldoutside the ancient ram inn
changed A slow, relentless marchof time that turned empires to
(08:39):
dust and made the ancient newagain.
But not here.
Here, in this forgotten cornerof the Codswolds, the ground
held onto its secrets, clutchingthem close beneath layers of
earth and stone.
That is until 1997, when theslow churn of time was violently
(09:00):
interrupted by the clatter ofhammers and the groan of
floorboards being torn apart.
It started as a simplerenovation, a facelift for a
building that had seen betterdays.
But what the workers unearthedbeneath those creaking
floorboards was anything butsimple Skeletal remains, brittle
(09:22):
and pale, lay tangled in thedirt.
Their bones, the last whispersof lives long forgotten.
You can almost feel the cold,quiet horror that must have
settled over the room like ashroud, as the realization
dawned on them they haddisturbed something ancient,
something that had been at peacefor millennia.
(09:42):
In that moment, the sanctity ofthe burial ground was shattered
, the thin veil between the pastand present torn wide open.
For those who believe in theold ways, in the power that
lingers in places touched bydeath, the connection between
that disturbance and the surgein paranormal activity that
(10:05):
followed is undeniable.
These bones, once cradled bythe earth, had been exposed.
Their rest disturbed, and withthat disturbance came the
reawakening of energies.
Long dormant Spirits that hadslept undisturbed for centuries
were suddenly yanked back intoour world, their unrest growing
(10:28):
like a storm, gathering strengthAt the ancient Ram Inn.
This isn't just a theory.
It's a battle between theliving and the dead, a place
where ancient rituals and modernlife collide in the most
unsettling of ways.
A place where the past isnmodern life collide in the most
unsettling of ways.
A place where the past isn'tcontent to stay out of sight.
(10:50):
But was it just the bones thatstirred these spirits to life,
or is there something deeper,something even darker at play,
an ancient force that few haveever truly understood?
Perhaps To answer that we needto go back Way, way back to the
(11:17):
beginning.
The year was 1145.
In those days, the village ofWanton-under-Edge was, like many
others, scattered acrossmedieval England, a place where
life moved to the rhythm of theseasons and the church cast its
long shadow over the daily livesof its people.
It was in this year thatconstruction began on St Mary's
(11:39):
Church, an ambitious projectthat would stand as a testament
to the faith and dedication ofits builders.
But churches don't rise fromthe ground by prayer alone.
They require sweat, muscle andthe steady hands of skilled
masons.
To house these workers, asimple building was erected
(12:00):
nearby what would one day becomethe ancient Ram Inn.
There's a lesser-known talewhispered among the locals, one
that ties this ancient buildingto one of the most significant
voyages in history the journeyof the Mayflower.
According to legend, some ofthe timbers that once held up
the roof of the ancient Ram Innwere later used in the
(12:23):
construction of the Mayflower,the ship that would carry the
pilgrims to, were later used inthe construction of the
Mayflower, the ship that wouldcarry the pilgrims to the New
World in 1620.
It's a story that blurs theline between fact and folklore,
but whether it's true or not,the thought of those timbers,
born from a place steeped insuch darkness, becoming part of
a vessel that symbolized hopeand freedom is a tantalizing
(12:46):
paradox.
But the builders who laid thefirst stones of St Mary's Church
had no idea of the land'sdeeper history.
They couldn't have known thatthe ground they had chosen had
its own past, one that reachedback far beyond the church, to a
time when the earth wasworshipped as a living entity.
(13:08):
To make way for their newedifice, streams that once
flowed freely across theproperty were diverted.
A minor inconvenience perhapsto men focused on their holy
mission.
But to those who understand theancient ways, the spiritual
significance of water cannot beunderstated.
(13:29):
Water is a conduit, a battery,a vessel for spiritual energy,
and by redirecting it they mayhave disturbed something primal,
something that had lain dormantfor centuries.
When the Masons finished theirwork on St Mary's, the building
that had sheltered them was leftbehind.
(13:50):
But instead of falling intodisrepair, it found a new
purpose.
It became a residence for thepriests of the church, a place
meant to be a haven of peace andsolitude.
Yet peace proved elusive.
The land beneath them had beenaltered, its energies disrupted,
(14:11):
and there were whispers, eventhen, that the priests were not
alone.
As the years rolled on, thebuilding's purpose shifted like
the tides evolving with each newchapter of its long history.
What began as a humbleresidence for priests, men of
faith seeking peace and solitude, transformed into an inn, a
(14:33):
public house that opened itsdoors to weary travelers, wary
locals and those looking for arefuge from the dangers lurking
on the roads.
But with this new life came newstories, tales that clung to
the walls like shadows, storiesof strange occurrences that
began to stain the inn'sreputation.
(14:54):
The ancient Ram Inn, once asanctuary for the living, now
seemed to cradle something elseentirely, something that defied
the ordinary, something thattwisted the air with an uneasy
tension.
And so the ancient Ram Innbegan to gather its legends unto
(15:15):
itself, one unsettling tale ata time.
But what was it about this placethat seemed to draw the
darkness like a moth to theflame?
Was it the consequences ofdisturbing the earth, of
redirecting the natural flow ofenergy?
Or was there something more,something deeper at play, a
(15:35):
convergence of forces perhaps,that turned this building into a
siren song for the supernatural?
We've already uncovered how theancient Ram Inn's history
became tangled up with thedisturbed ground beneath it, how
the diverted streams andunearthed bones released
something that refuses to rest.
But what if that's just thesurface?
(15:56):
What if there's somethingdeeper, something older than the
stones themselves?
Beneath the ancient ram innlies a force, something
invisible yet powerful, anetwork that has connected
(16:17):
sacred sites for millennia,mystical pathways of energy that
might just hold the key tounderstanding the relentless
hauntings that have gripped thisplace for centuries.
Ley lines Straight invisiblepaths that crisscross the earth,
stitching together sacred sitesand ancient monuments like a
quilt of energy.
Some dismiss them as fanciful,the product of an overactive
(16:40):
imagination, seeing patternswhere there are none, but for
others, ley lines are far morethey are the veins through which
the earth's spiritual energyflows, linking places of power
across vast distances.
Here's the thing the ancientRam Inn is believed to sit at
(17:02):
the intersection of two of theselines, lines that some say
connected directly to Stonehengeand the Great Pyramids.
The concept of ley lines isrooted in the beliefs of our
ancestors, those who walked thisearth long before history had a
name.
They believed these lines heldthe power to shape the physical
(17:24):
world, that they were chargedwith energies that could amplify
spiritual experiences.
Ancient civilizations didn'tjust stumble upon these sites,
they sought them out, buildingtheir monuments, temples and
burial grounds along these lines, hoping to harness the power
flowing beneath their feet.
And the ancient Ram Inn,unknowingly or not, was built at
(17:48):
a crossroads of the spiritualnetwork, a place already sacred
to pagans, who once called thisland home.
But ley lines aren't just aEuropean idea.
They've appeared in culturesacross the globe.
In China they're called dragonlines, channels of powerful qi
energy that flow through theland.
(18:09):
Native American tribes speak ofspirit lines guiding the souls
of the dead to the afterlife.
These ancient beliefs convergeon one simple truth the earth is
alive, pulsing with energy thatcan be harnessed, revered or,
if you're not careful, disturbed.
(18:31):
In the case of the ancient RamInn, the convergence of these
ley lines is believed to havefar-reaching effects.
Those who study the paranormalsuggest these lines act as
highways for spiritual energy,allowing it to flow freely
between sites.
This might explain why the innhas become such a magnet for
(18:52):
supernatural energy.
The energy from the ley linescould be amplifying the presence
of spirits.
There are theories, some oldand some new, that suggest the
pagans who first lived on thisland didn't stumble upon it by
accident.
They knew about the ley lines,knew they were sacred and buried
(19:13):
their dead along them for areason they believed these lines
connected the physical worldwith the spiritual realm and by
placing their dead along theselines they hoped their spirits
would be safely carried into theafterlife, guided by the energy
flowing beneath the earth.
In recent years, the inn hasattracted countless paranormal
(19:34):
investigators, drawn by itsinfamous reputation as one of
the most haunted sites inEngland.
Many of these investigatorshave encountered energy surges,
witnessed phenomena that defyconventional understanding and
had encounters that challengedthe boundaries of reality.
They speculate that the leylines beneath the inn might be
(19:55):
amplifying these, acting asconduits for spiritual energy
and intensifying theotherworldly experiences within
its walls.
And the stories, thoseunsettling tales from those who
spent time in the ancient RamInn speak of such strange
occurrences Sudden drops intemperature, orbs of light that
(20:16):
dance across the rooms and thatunmistakable feeling of being
watched by something unseen.
Some even claim to hear voices,whispers carried on the air
that seem to come from nowhere.
Could it be these ley linesthat anchor the spirits to this
place, pulling them back fromwherever they rest?
(20:37):
Now, before you think I'vecompletely lost my marbles,
there's something I need to getoff my chest before we continue.
Folklore and legend have a wayof sinking their claws into a
place, holding on tight,refusing to let go, no matter
how many years pass by thesetales.
(20:57):
Well, they're like shadowscreeping through time, whispered
from one generation to the next, until they're etched into the
very bones of the place.
Fact and fiction.
They're tangled up in a webthat's as sticky as it is
elusive.
Sure, not every ghostlyapparition or twisted bit of
(21:19):
history can be pinned down withsolid proof.
A lot of what we're dealingwith here is cloaked in the fog
of local lore, shaped by thefears and imaginations of the
people who've walked these hallsbefore us.
But let's not kid ourselves.
Even if just a sliver of thesestories are true, the Ancient
Ram Inn is no ordinary hauntedhouse.
(21:41):
It's a stronghold of theparanormal, and its intensity is
something you can't just brushoff with a skeptical wave of the
hand when you start to peelback the layers, looking at the
inn's deep connection to ancientpeoples, the sacred ground it's
perched on and thebone-chilling discoveries hidden
(22:02):
within its walls.
Literally, it's not such astretch to believe that
something otherworldly might beat play here.
I'm a believer, no doubt aboutit, but I'm also a researcher.
I've learned not to let myselfget completely swept up in the
thrill of it all.
There's a razor-thin linebetween belief and blind faith,
(22:25):
and as someone who's seen bothsides of the coin, it's my job
to tread that line carefully.
But don't misunderstand me.
Whether it's legend, folkloreor cold hard fact, whatever
label you want to slap on itlore or cold hard fact, whatever
label you want to slap on it,there's no denying the weight
these stories carry or thedarkness that clings to the
(22:46):
ancient Ram Inn like a secondskin.
Just when you think the story ofthe ancient Ram Inn has reached
its darkest depths, when you'resure that the ancient burial
grounds and disturbed energiesmark the peak of its ominous
past, another shadowy lairemerges.
(23:10):
This one drags us back to atime when fear held the land in
a death grip, when the ancientways once respected turned into
the stuff of nightmares.
It was an era where a merewhisper of witchcraft could seal
your fate in the mostterrifying and violent of ways.
The 1500s, an age soaked inparanoia, where the battle
(23:31):
between holiness and darknessplayed out on a brutal stage.
Witch hunts raged acrossEngland like a wildfire, fanned
by a church and state desperateto crush any remaining ties to
the old beliefs.
Superstition became a weapon, ablunt tool used to stamp out
(23:52):
those who clung to the ancientpractices, the rituals that had
kept their ancestors in harmonywith forces unseen.
One such story takes place righthere at the inn, they say a
woman accused of witchcraft,sought sanctuary within its
walls, but the inn, with all itshistory and strength, couldn't
(24:13):
protect her from the frenzy ofthe witch hunters.
She was dragged from her hidingplace and faced the ultimate
horror Burned at the stake,condemned as a servant of the
devil.
That brutal act, born from thevery terror the powerful had
sown among the people, left ascar on the inn that has never
(24:36):
truly healed.
But her story didn't end in theflames.
In the witch's room, as it'scome to be known, it's as if
time itself holds its breath, asthough the past exists almost
simultaneously to the present.
Those who step into that roomspeak of an air that presses
down on them, heavy andsuffocating, almost as though
(25:00):
the walls themselves rememberthe terror of that day.
Some say they've seen her, aghostly face, pale and filled
with sorrow, peering out fromthe window, an echo of the fear
and agony that once consumed herIn the witch's room.
History is not a concept youread about.
It's something you feel, aweight that bears down on you as
(25:25):
relentlessly as the fear thatcondemned her.
So now we have to wonder howmuch of the Ancient Ram Inn's
dark energy rises from thedisturbed earth and ley lines
below, and how much comes fromthe souls who met their tragic
ends here.
But don't think for a secondthat the Witch's Room is the
(25:45):
only place where the pastrefuses to stay buried.
The inn is crawling withrestless spirits, each one more
unsettling than the last, aswirling vortex of dark energy.
As with any haunted location,not all the echoes of the past
are born from malice.
In my experience, more oftenthan not they're quite the
(26:08):
opposite Sweet, kind, evenprotective Spirits that are too
often misunderstood because we,the living, are too quick to run
, too quick to let fear overridereason.
A faint knock on the wall, awhisper of cold air brushing
(26:28):
against your skin these mightsend most people into a panic.
But what if these are desperateattempts to communicate?
What if, behind the spectraltouch, there's a soul just
trying to reach out to relay amessage from beyond the veil?
To me, it's a heartbreakingthought, the idea that spirits
(26:51):
might watch us flee in terrorwhen all they want to do is
connect, to be heard, maybe evento protect us from something
far worse.
Rosie might be one such spirit.
I believe.
She's a guardian, a gentlepresence that, despite the
horrors she faced in life, haschosen to remain within the
(27:18):
ancient ram inn, not out ofvengeance, but out of a deep,
abiding need to be acknowledged,to be understood.
Rosie was just a child.
Her life cut short and it'ssaid she was murdered within the
inn.
Another victim claimed by thedarkness that has seeped its way
into these walls.
But unlike the other spirits,rosie doesn't lash out in anger.
Her presence is known in thesoftest of ways.
(27:42):
Guests who have stayed in theattic Rosie's domain, have
reported hearing the delicatesound of a child's laughter, a
sound that's more sad thansinister, like an echo of the
life she should have lived.
Some have felt a gentle tug ontheir clothing, like the small
hand of a child reaching out,have felt a gentle tug on their
clothing, like the small hand ofa child reaching out, trying to
(28:09):
make contact.
It's in these small gestures,these quiet moments, that
Rosie's spirit reveals itself.
She doesn't seek to scare,although we may find ourselves
scared.
She seeks to connect, perhapseven to protect.
Imagine the confusion, theloneliness she must feel,
trapped in a place where everyattempt to reach out is met with
fear and misunderstanding.
(28:30):
And yet, despite it all, shekeeps trying.
Rosie's story is a side of darkinnocence at the ancient Ram
Inn's twisted history.
She stands out.
She's different, a young girlcaught in a nightmare, yet
clinging to the hope thatsomeone someday will finally
(28:51):
understand her message.
I imagine the spirit world is acomplex place, where not every
entity is out to harm, where theline between protector and
attacker isn't always clear.
I guess the next time you hearthe sound of a child's laughter
in an abandoned attic or feel asoft tug on your sleeve, maybe
(29:15):
remember Rosie.
She's not necessarily here toscare you.
She's here to remind you thatnot all spirits are malevolent.
Some are just lost souls stillsearching for a connection,
still hoping to be seen.
But she isn't alone in theattic.
(29:37):
There's another presence heretoo, one that's far more tragic,
far more haunting.
This presence isn't tied toinnocence, like Rosie, but to
the unbearable weight ofbetrayal and sorrow.
It's the spirit of the formerowner's daughter whose life
(29:57):
ended here in this space andwhose pain hangs in the air like
a thick fog suffocatingeverything it touches, a pain
that stands in stark contrast toRosie's gentle attempts at
connection.
The story here goes that thiswoman, the daughter of a man who
once owned the inn, met her endin the attic, hanged by her own
(30:20):
father in an act ofunimaginable cruelty.
Her spirit, they say, stilllingers here in the attic, where
the very air feels heavy withan overwhelming sense of
melancholy.
Those brave or foolish enough toventure up here often speak of
an unbearable sadness, adarkness that seems to seep into
(30:41):
your bones, as though the wallsthemselves remember the exact
moment when life was snuffed outby a hand that should have been
there to protect.
It's a strange, powerful thing,the way two such different
energies can occupy the samespace.
On one side there's Rosie, achild, lost but unbroken, still
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reaching out with a spirituntouched by the darkness around
her, and on the other, theformer owner's daughter, a soul
weighed down by betrayal,burdened with a sorrow so deep
it's almost tangible.
To stand in this attic is tofeel the clash of these energies
, one perhaps light and oneperhaps more dark, both trapped
(31:31):
in a place that has seen far toomuch pain.
It's so intriguing to me howsuch opposing forces can coexist
within the same four walls,each one telling a different
story echoing through time.
Perhaps it's this clash thatmakes the attic such a potent
place, a space where the fullspectrum of human emotions
(31:53):
collide at the same moment,where innocence, fear, betrayal
and sorrow are allsimultaneously intertwined with
the energies of those who remain.
Much like the former owner'sdaughter, there's another one
whose presence is marked bybone-chilling sorrow.
(32:14):
They call her Elizabeth.
Where other spirits might lashout in anger, elizabeth seems to
drift through the inn with asadness that's as heavy as the
air on a stormy day.
Her presence is quieter, moremournful, as though she carries
with her the weight of a tragedythat time has long since
(32:36):
forgotten.
She's often seen as a shadowyfigure gliding silently through
the hallways.
Her form barely visible, buther sorrow, a feeling deep in
your chest, an ache that lingerseven long after she's gone.
Elizabeth is believed to havebeen a guest or resident of the
(32:58):
inn, a woman slain, though thedetails of her death have been
swallowed by the shadows of time.
Those who have glimpsed herdescribe her as a figure dressed
in old-fashioned clothing, herface etched with a despair that
seems to reach across centuries.
Her face etched with a despairthat seems to reach across
centuries.
She's most commonly spottednear the stairs or in the
(33:19):
darkened corridors where shewanders endlessly, as if
searching for something orsomeone, perhaps lost to her
forever.
Some claim to have heard hersoft sobs, a sound so
(33:42):
heart-wrenching that it stickswith you, haunting your thoughts
, long after it's faded intosilence.
Unlike the more malevolentspirits that haunt these halls,
elizabeth doesn't seem to wantto frighten those who encounter
her.
Instead, she appears to betrapped in a sort of loop of
grief, a figure forever mourningin the place where her life was
snuffed out too soon.
(34:02):
But as with any haunted place,not all spirits neatly fall into
categories of benevolent ormalevolent.
Some straddle the line, theirtrue intentions lost in a veil
of ambiguity.
Among the spirits said to roamthe ancient Ram Inn is one that
embodies this uncertainty Ayoung boy whose laughter echoes
(34:26):
through the halls but whosepresence may be far from purely
innocent.
Visitors have reportedencounters with this boy, often
in the dead of night, when theinn is at its most still, when
the air seems to hold its breath.
At first his presence mightseem harmless childish giggles,
(34:51):
the faint patter of small feet.
But those who have experiencedit describe an unsettling
undertone, a creeping dread thatseeps in as the laughter fades.
There's something off aboutthis child, something that
doesn't quite fit with the imageof a playful spirit.
Some say his laughter carries atrace of malice, a darkness
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perhaps lurking just beneath thesurface.
There are stories of guestsfeeling a sudden unexplainable
chill, followed by the unnervingsensation of being watched.
And then, in the corner oftheir vision, they might just
catch a glimpse A small figurestanding there, silent and
(35:39):
unmoving, his eyes too old, tooknowing for a child.
Those who've seen him up closespeak of his appearance as
almost demonic, and anunsettling gaze that lingers
(36:01):
unafraid to make eye contact.
Whether this boy is a productof the dark rituals rumored to
have been conducted within theinn, or something far older, far
more sinister, remains amystery, a mystery that haunts
those who dare to stay here asyou descend from the attic,
leaving behind the whispers ofRosie and the shadowed presence
(36:22):
of the former owner's daughter.
The ancient Ram Inn, believe itor not, has more to reveal, much
, much more.
There's another room here, onethat has left even the bravest
souls shaken to their core.
The bishop's room, onceintended as a sanctuary for
(36:42):
visiting clergy, has now becomethe epicenter of the inn's most
potent apparitions.
Over the centuries, this roomhas earned an incredible
reputation, boasting as many asnine different spirits, at least
the ones that we have names for, each more unnerving than the
(37:03):
last.
In its earliest days, thebishop's room was a place of
refuge, a space where the holymen of the church could rest and
reflect, but as the yearsturned, this room became
something else entirely, a focalpoint for the inn's darkest
energies, a place where thesacred and the profane collide
(37:26):
in the most disturbing of ways.
John Humphreys, the inn's lastlong-term owner, knew the
bishop's room was no ordinaryspace and he treated it with a
special kind of caution, alwaysknocking three times on the door
with his crooked walking stickbefore daring to enter, as
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anyone there he would call out.
Sometimes they would be nothingbut the cold still air, but
other times the walls would seemto answer back, reverberating
with knocks in echo from theother side, as if something was
acknowledging his presence, asilent confirmation that he was
(38:07):
not alone and perhaps that hewas not welcome.
The stories that swirl aroundthe bishop's room are as dark as
they come.
Dark, spectral monks, theirfaces hidden beneath massive
deep hoods, have been seengliding through the room, their
(38:27):
forms flickering like shadowsagainst the walls.
But they're not the only ones.
But they're not the only ones.
Visitors have described a formof deep, dark, machiavellian
high priestess, a spirit tiedperhaps to the inn's history of
witchcraft, and she has alsobeen spotted here.
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Her presence, when she appears,creates the sensation of
instant suffocation, the airbecoming thick with the remnants
of ancient forbidden rites,violent and angry.
Those who've encountered herspeak of a dread so deep.
It's as if they've stepped intoa place they were never meant
(39:08):
to be, or perhaps that no humanever ever was, a space separate
from time, where the old waysstill hold sway and your life
perhaps has been found wanting.
But according to some records,the most unnerving of all, at
least to some visitors, is theRoman centurion.
(39:29):
Witnesses have described interror the sight of seeing this
spectral soldier on horsebackcharging through the walls of
the bishop's room.
His apparition is sudden,fierce, as though he's still on
some ancient mission, trapped inan endless loop that forces him
to relive his final momentsover and over again.
(39:51):
For some reason, to me I thinkthis apparition might be so
startling I might even find itfunny, but I suppose the shock
of it all might make anyonepause in fear.
But what is it about this roomthat draws such dark spirits?
Perhaps it's in mockery of thereligious sanctity that bishops
once represented and still do inmany ways, a cruel twist of
(40:15):
fate for a room meant to be asanctuary, or perhaps it's
something deeper, a portal ofsorts, where the energies of the
past converge and are amplified, creating a vortex that pulls
in the restless dead.
Whatever the reason, thebishop's room is a place where
fear seems to take shape,reflecting back at us in forms
(40:38):
that seem almost inspired fromour deepest, darkest nightmares.
The inn is a place where silencecan be more terrifying than any
sound, at least until thatsilence is shattered by the most
chilling noise of all thescream of a man in agony.
Visitors and investigatorsalike have reported hearing this
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blood-curdling scream echothrough the inn late at night, a
sound so visceral, so raw, thatit stops them dead in their
tracks, paralyzed with fear.
It might sound strange todescribe, but the disembodied
scream doesn't seem to hang onair the way we might anticipate.
(41:23):
It seems to come from nowhereand everywhere all at once,
reverberating through theancient timbers themselves, like
a ghostly wail from the veryheart of the building.
Ancient timbers themselves likea ghostly wail from the very
heart of the building.
Some speculate that the screambelongs to a man who met a
gruesome end within these walls,much like others, his final
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moments of pain and terrorimprinted onto the very fabric
of the structure, echoing fromtime to time like a record.
Others believe it's somethingeven more unsettling, perhaps a
manifestation of the negativeenergy that has seeped into the
inn over the centuries, a cry ofanguish from the countless
spirits trapped within theiragony, so intense that it
pierces through the veil betweenour worlds.
(42:09):
But there's something evendarker still, a force that
doesn't just haunt you but huntsyou.
Meet the Incubus, a demon bornfrom the deepest recesses of
ancient nightmares, an entitythat takes your darkest fears
(42:29):
and twists them into ahorrifying reality.
The Incubus is not a figment offolklore, at least not in my
experience.
It's real.
It's a terror that has beenetched into the nightmares of
cultures around the world formillennia.
Typically depicted as amalevolent male entity, the
(42:51):
Incubus is said to prey on thesleeping, especially women,
inducing nightmares so vivid andterrifying that they blur the
line between dream and reality.
According to ancient beliefs,this demon would do more than
just haunt your dreams it wouldviolate you in the most personal
(43:11):
, terrifying way imaginable.
The very word incubus comesfrom the Latin incubare, meaning
to lie upon, perfectlycapturing the horror of those
who have encountered it, thecrushing sensation of being
pinned down, unable to move, asif something dark and oppressive
(43:34):
is pressing down on your chest.
I fear anyone who's ever haddark entities in their home as a
child perhaps might be relatingto what I'm describing in a
terrifying way.
While folklore often describesthe Incubus as a demon preying
upon the vulnerable, it has alsobeen depicted with specific,
(43:56):
terrifying physical traits andfor those who, as I mentioned,
might be relating to this, usecaution if you want to hear me
describe this, for fear ofbringing back deep, unsettling
memories.
Imagine a human-like form, butwith twisted features, shadowy
skin, cold as death, with anaura of pure malice emanating
(44:21):
from it.
Its eyes, often seen glowingwith an unnatural light, pierce
the darkness with a gaze thatparalyzes its victims instantly,
filling them with a dread sointense it seems that their very
soul is being torn apart, theirbrain no longer in control of
their physical body.
Some accounts describe theincubus with bat-like wings,
(44:46):
leathery, ominous, spreading outlike a blanket to cover its
prey as it exerts its terrifyingpower.
Others speak of sharp claws ortalons, deadly and capable of
inflicting real harm as thecreature pins its victims down.
At the ancient Ram Inn,witnesses have reported feeling
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the oppressive weight of theincubus pressing on their chest,
but sightings in its full formare rare.
Perhaps this only adds to theterror, knowing it's there
lurking in the dark but neverfully seeing it.
The origins of the incubus canbe traced back to ancient
(45:29):
Mesopotamian mythology, wheredemons like Lilu and Lilitu were
believed to stalk and seducepeople during the night.
These early conceptions of theincubus were later woven into
the mythologies of the Greek andRomans, but it was during the
European Middle Ages that theincubus became firmly entrenched
(45:49):
in Christian demonology.
The church seized upon thefigure of the incubus, using it
as a terrifying cautionary tale,a warning about the dangers of
lust and the vulnerability ofthe human soul to demonic
influence during sleep.
In medieval Europe, the incubusbecame a go-to explanation for
(46:11):
a host of inexplicablephenomenon which I suppose over
the years has caused many tothink that it's not real at all.
These phenomena ranged fromsleep paralysis to nocturnal
emissions and other conditionsthat baffled the people of the
time.
The incubus was said to visitits victims at night, lying upon
(46:33):
them and sometimes evenattempting to father children
with them, as in the legend ofMerlin, who was believed to be
an offspring of an incubus witha human woman.
The fear of this demon was sopervasive that women would often
accuse the incubus of assaultwhen no other explanation could
be found, reflecting thisdeep-seated fear of demonic
(46:56):
influence that haunted themedieval mind.
At the Ancient Ram Inn, though,the Incubus was not a legend.
It was a living nightmare.
John Humphreys, the owner,spoke of his own terrifying
encounters with this entity.
Humphreys claimed that theincubus would visit him in the
(47:17):
night, holding him down with aforce that he described as
almost unbearable.
It wasn't just a haunting, itwas an assault, a direct and
physical manifestation of evil.
His experiences became sofrequent and intense that he
believed the incubus was feedingoff his fear, growing stronger
(47:38):
with each encounter.
Other guests, too, havereported similar experiences,
waking in the dead of the nightto find themselves paralyzed,
unable to move as the incubusexerted its dreadful power to
move as the incubus exerted itsdreadful power.
Some have reported beingphysically touched by the
incubus, an experience sohorrifying that it drove them to
(48:00):
flee the inn, sometimes evenleaping from the windows in a
desperate attempt to escape.
The impact of the incubus wasso profound that it's believed
by some to be one of the reasonsthe inn was eventually closed
as a bed and breakfast, by someto be one of the reasons, the
inn was eventually closed as abed and breakfast.
The demon's presence made itimpossible for guests to feel
(48:23):
safe, as reports of its attacksspread fear among all who
visited.
It's said that John Humphreyshimself was never free from the
incubus, sharing his bedroomwith this terrifying entity,
until the day he died.
But where there's an incubus,you'll often find its sinister
counterpart, a succubus, afemale demon with intentions
(48:44):
just as malevolent, if not moreso.
The succubus, like her malecounterpart, has roots that
reach deep into ancient lore too, her shadowy figure appearing
in myths and legends ofcountless cultures.
Traditionally, the succubus issaid to seduce men as they sleep
, draining their life forceuntil they're left weak or,
(49:07):
worse, dead.
These demons often take theform of beautiful women, but
their allure is a deadly trap.
Look closer and you'll see thesigns Sharp claws, serpentine
eyes and an aura of danger thatclings to them too.
The succubus embodies theancient fear of female sexuality
(49:31):
, a fear that has haunted themale imagination for centuries,
turning desire into somethingtwisted, something that walks
the razor's edge between ecstasyand destruction.
In medieval Christiandemonology, the succubus was the
symbol of temptation, amanifestation of the sins of
(49:52):
lust and sexual excess.
The church was quick to exploitthis fear, using it as a weapon
to instill guilt and shame.
The dread of the succubusbecame so widespread that it was
blamed for everything fromunexplained illnesses to
infertility and even death.
(50:12):
Reports of a succubus at theancient Ram Inn are less common
than those of the incubus, butthey're no less terrifying.
Men who've stayed at the inntell of waking in the dead of
the night to find a shadowyfigure looming over them, a
woman with an otherworldlybeauty that quickly morphs into
horror as she reveals her truenature.
(50:33):
They speak of being paralyzed,unable to move or cry out, as
the succubus presses down ontheir chest, stealing their
breath and leaving them drainedof energy.
Some have even fled in themiddle of the night, hearts
pounding with fear, convincedthat they had narrowly escaped
death.
But what kind of man wouldwillingly endure such torment?
(50:58):
In 1968, the ancient Ram Innteetered on the edge of oblivion
.
This historic building, whichhad stood sentinel for over 800
years, was slated fordestruction.
But then John Humphreys steppedin.
He couldn't bear the thought ofthis ancient structure being
lost to time, so he bought it,determined to preserve it.
(51:21):
But what he didn't know wasthat he wasn't just buying a
piece of history he was buyinginto a lifetime of encounters
with the supernatural.
From the very first night theinn made its presence known.
He was violently dragged fromhis bed by an unseen force,
setting the tone for the yearsthat would follow.
(51:43):
Yet despite the terror, he neverwavered in his commitment to
the inn.
To him, preserving the buildingwas more than just an act of
historical conservation.
It was a way of honoring thecountless lives that had passed
through its doors, even if thoselives continued to make
themselves known to him in waysthat were anything but peaceful.
(52:04):
But dedication like this comesat a price.
Humphrey's family couldn'tendure the constant barrage of
paranormal activity.
His wife and daughterseventually left, driven away by
the malevolent forces thatseemed to target them
relentlessly.
But John stayed behind,resolute in his mission, even as
(52:28):
he became the inn's soleresident.
The isolation, combined withthe ever-present supernatural
disturbances, only deepened hisconnection to the inn and to its
dark, hidden secrets.
As John dug deeper into theinn's history, he uncovered
evidence that would cement itsreputation as a place of
(52:50):
darkness and foster the legendsthat would follow During one of
his many renovations.
The story goes that hediscovered the skeletal remains
of children entombed within itswalls victims, it's believed, of
an ancient ritual sacrifice.
The presence of broken daggersamong the bones suggested these
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children were part of somelong-forgotten rite, possibly
linked to the inn's allegedhistory of witchcraft.
But the story continues that itwasn't just human remains that
Humphreys found.
In another part of the inn heuncovered the remains of what
appeared to be animalssacrificed to in ancient rituals
Cats Mummified.
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These remains and daggerssuggested that the inn had been
the site of pagan ceremonieslong before it became a place of
refuge or torment for theliving.
In ancient times it wasn'tuncommon to place animals within
the walls of a building as akind of good luck charm, a way
to protect the inhabitants fromevil spirits.
(53:54):
But this particular cat, longdead and mummified, may have had
its own unfinished business, assome say that the spirit of a
black cat haunts the very roomwhere its mummified body was
found.
These discoveries they suggestthat the rituals performed here,
whether for protection ordarker purposes, left a lasting
(54:17):
imprint on the building.
For nearly five decadesHumphreys lived among these
spirits, never once consideringabandoning the inn.
He often said he felt a duty toprotect it and its history, no
matter the cost.
To protect it and its history,no matter the cost.
Even as the paranormal activityescalated, with reports of
(54:38):
visitors being attacked andpoltergeists wreaking havoc,
humphreys remained a guardian ofthe inn's secrets until the
very end.
John Humphreys passed away in2017, still the owner and sole
occupant of the ancient Ram Inn.
He died in the place he haddedicated his life to saving,
(55:04):
surrounded by the spirits thathad both tormented and defined
his existence.
So, in the end, what do we takeaway from a place like the
ancient Ram Inn?
Is it just another ghost story,a collection of eerie tales and
unexplainable phenomena that wecan shrug off as legend or
fiction, or is it something more?
John Humphreys, now, there wasa man who faced what most of us
(55:30):
would flee from.
For nearly 50 years, he livedin the belly of that beast,
surrounded by entities thatwould send anyone else running
for the hills, but he didn't run.
He stayed.
He faced the darkness head on,day after day, night after night
(55:50):
, and in doing so, he becamepart of the very history he
sought to preserve.
A man haunted not just by thespirits of the past, but by the
weight of knowing that somethings are beyond explanation,
beyond understanding.
The past isn't just some memory.
(56:12):
It lingers, it echoes andsometimes it refuses to let go.
The energy we leave behinddoesn't simply disappear.
It's there, imprinted on theplaces we've been, on the people
we've touched, the lives we'veintersected.
(56:33):
And sometimes that energy isstrong enough, determined enough
to reach across time, demandingto be acknowledged.
I think we like to think ofourselves as separate from the
past, living in the now, cut offfrom what came before, but the
truth is we're all connected bythese spaces we inhabit, by the
(56:59):
memories we share, by the fearsand hopes that bind us together
in this fragile thing we calllife.
Maybe the ancient Ram Inn is areminder of that connection,
that we're not alone, that theenergies of those who came
before still resonates, stillshapes the world we live in.
(57:20):
What are the places in your ownlife where this past still
endures?
The spaces that feel heavy withmemory, the moments that seem
to echo with something more?
What energy have you leftbehind?
And what will you carry withyou when you leave?
Because, in the end, maybe thereal phantoms aren't the spirits
(57:46):
that we fear, but therealization that we too are
leaving something behind.
The lines between our worldsand the next are far blurrier
than we'd like to admit, andmaybe, perhaps that's the most
haunting truth of all.
Thank you, you.
It was supposed to be just another night, one more
unremarkable night in theendless parade that makes up a
life.
But for John Humphreys thatnight was a live wire, a jagged
thing that would slice deep andleave scars that no amount of
time could ever smooth over.
John was the kind of man whosaw potential in the forgotten,
(00:37):
in the crumbling corners ofhistory that most would tear
down and forget.
He had bought the ancient RamInn in 1968, not just to save it
from the wrecking ball but torestore it, to breathe life back
into the old bones of the place.
But on that first night itwasn't the stillness of a long,
(00:58):
abandoned building that greetedhim.
It was something far moretwisted, something with teeth.
He had settled into bed, pullingthe covers up against the damp,
unforgiving cold that seemed toseep out of the very walls.
The stone was rough-hewn andancient, holding onto the
(01:21):
centuries like a grudge, and thedarkness pressed in, thick and
almost tangible.
He shifted under the coverstrying to find a spot that
didn't feel like it was digginginto his bones, but the unease
of the new place gnawed at him.
Time ticked by, the silencebecoming a weight on his chest.
The silence becoming a weighton his chest.
(01:42):
He could hear the housesettling around him, timbers
creaking, the wind rattling theold windows.
But there was something elsetoo, something just out of sight
, just out of reach, somethingthat made the hairs on the back
of his neck stand on end.
And then it hit him like afreight train in the night A
(02:07):
grip, cold as the grave clampeddown on his arm with a force
that sent him bolt upright.
He barely had time to reactbefore he was yanked out of bed
and dragged across the roughwooden floor, his body scraping
against the boards, as if hewere nothing more than a ragdoll
in the hands of something thatwasn't quite human.
Panic set in his heart,pounding in his chest like a
(02:31):
drum, breath catching in histhroat as he tried to make sense
of what was happening.
But there was no making senseof it.
There was only the terror, therealization that something was
in the room with him.
There was only the terror, therealization that something was
in the room with him, somethinghe couldn't see but could feel
all the same, dark andmalevolent and filled with an
(02:53):
anger that he could taste likecopper on his tongue.
And then, just as suddenly asit had started, it was over the
grip released, leaving himsprawled on the floor gasping
for breath.
In the silence that followed,john lay there, heart thudding
in his ears, every nerve alivewith fear.
This wasn't a bad dream, wasn'tthe product of a tired mind.
(03:24):
No, this was real, too real.
The ancient Ram Inn was alive,pulsing with something dark and
ancient, something that hadreached out of the past and
grabbed hold of him, refusing tolet go.
This was just the beginning,and whatever it was, it wasn't
done with him.
Yet what is it that makes theancient Ram Inn one of the most
haunted places in England?
(03:45):
Is it the blood-soaked historyetched into its walls?
Or is there something else,something older, something that
still lurks in the shadowswaiting?
I'm Jeremy Haig, and this iswhen walls can talk.
Throughout the ages, man hasrepeated the same earnest saying
(04:22):
more of a question, really, orperhaps even a plea if these
walls could talk, but what ifthey do, and always have?
Perhaps their stories, memoriesand messages are all around us.
If only we would take themoment to listen.
On this podcast, wereinvestigate legends and tales
(04:48):
of the past and allow the echoesof their lessons to live on
once again, informing us,educating us and sharing new and
unique insight into the innerworkings of the paranormal and
spiritual world.
Will you dare to listen?
This is when Walls Can Talk thepodcast Ghosts.
(05:20):
They reach out to us in waysthat crawl under our skin and
lodge themselves in the darkcorners of our minds.
We don't just see them.
We sense them fleeting andhalf-glimpsed in the periphery
of our vision.
We hear them in the whispersthat slip through the cracks in
the night and sometimes, ifwe're truly unlucky, we can feel
(05:44):
the icy brush of their touch, atouch that can freeze your soul
in place.
Our journey through the hauntedplaces of the world has led us
to some of the mostspine-chilling spirits and
supernatural entities that spitin the face of death itself.
The lights flicker just for amoment, but long enough to send
(06:05):
a shiver down your spine.
You try to shrug it off, butthe air grows cold and deep down
.
You know the truth You're notalone, not anymore.
Watton Under Edge, a sleepyvillage tucked away in the
Codswolds, seems like the kindof place where nothing bad could
(06:26):
ever happen.
Rolling hills andpostcard-perfect cottages paint
the scene of an idyllic Englishcountryside, but looks can
deceive.
Beneath that peaceful facadelies something much older, much
darker.
This land has secrets muchdarker.
(06:48):
This land has secrets, secretsimmersed deep in the soil, where
the roots of ancient trees haveentangled themselves with the
bones of the forgotten.
Long before the ancient Ram Innwas even a whisper in someone's
mind, this ground was sacred toa people who saw the world in
ways we can barely understand.
They worshipped the earth as aliving, breathing entity, and
(07:09):
they believed that death was notan end but a transformation.
The dead weren't just buried,they were returned to the earth
like seeds meant to grow intosomething new.
The rituals of these ancientpagans were solemn, powerful
affairs, conducted under thewatchful eye of the moon and
(07:32):
carried out with a reverencethat made the very air hum with
energy.
It's hard to imagine what anancient ritual like this might
have felt like, but I imagine afuneral ceremony under a sky
littered with stars, the mooncasting long shadows over a
landscape shrouded in mist.
The scent of burning herbsfills the air and rhythmic
(07:54):
chanting echoes through thenight.
As the tribe gathers to bidfarewell to one of their own,
the body, adorned with sacredsymbols, is laid to rest in the
earth a final loving act.
For these people, the groundwas a cradle, a sacred place
that would hold and protect thesoul as it moved into the next
(08:16):
world.
To disturb such a sight wouldbe to court disaster, to tear
open the veil between the livingand the dead, unleashing
something that was meant to stayconcealed.
Centuries passed and the worldoutside the ancient ram inn
changed A slow, relentless marchof time that turned empires to
(08:39):
dust and made the ancient newagain.
But not here.
Here, in this forgotten cornerof the Codswolds, the ground
held onto its secrets, clutchingthem close beneath layers of
earth and stone.
That is until 1997, when theslow churn of time was violently
(09:00):
interrupted by the clatter ofhammers and the groan of
floorboards being torn apart.
It started as a simplerenovation, a facelift for a
building that had seen betterdays.
But what the workers unearthedbeneath those creaking
floorboards was anything butsimple Skeletal remains, brittle
(09:22):
and pale, lay tangled in thedirt.
Their bones, the last whispersof lives long forgotten.
You can almost feel the cold,quiet horror that must have
settled over the room like ashroud, as the realization
dawned on them they haddisturbed something ancient,
something that had been at peacefor millennia.
(09:42):
In that moment, the sanctity ofthe burial ground was shattered
, the thin veil between the pastand present torn wide open.
For those who believe in theold ways, in the power that
lingers in places touched bydeath, the connection between
that disturbance and the surgein paranormal activity that
(10:05):
followed is undeniable.
These bones, once cradled bythe earth, had been exposed.
Their rest disturbed, and withthat disturbance came the
reawakening of energies.
Long dormant Spirits that hadslept undisturbed for centuries
were suddenly yanked back intoour world, their unrest growing
(10:28):
like a storm, gathering strengthAt the ancient Ram Inn.
This isn't just a theory.
It's a battle between theliving and the dead, a place
where ancient rituals and modernlife collide in the most
unsettling of ways.
A place where the past isnmodern life collide in the most
unsettling of ways.
A place where the past isn'tcontent to stay out of sight.
(10:50):
But was it just the bones thatstirred these spirits to life,
or is there something deeper,something even darker at play,
an ancient force that few haveever truly understood?
Perhaps To answer that we needto go back Way, way back to the
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beginning.
The year was 1145.
In those days, the village ofWanton-under-Edge was, like many
others, scattered acrossmedieval England, a place where
life moved to the rhythm of theseasons and the church cast its
long shadow over the daily livesof its people.
It was in this year thatconstruction began on St Mary's
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Church, an ambitious projectthat would stand as a testament
to the faith and dedication ofits builders.
But churches don't rise fromthe ground by prayer alone.
They require sweat, muscle andthe steady hands of skilled
masons.
To house these workers, asimple building was erected
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nearby what would one day becomethe ancient Ram Inn.
There's a lesser-known talewhispered among the locals, one
that ties this ancient buildingto one of the most significant
voyages in history the journeyof the Mayflower.
According to legend, some ofthe timbers that once held up
the roof of the ancient Ram Innwere later used in the
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construction of the Mayflower,the ship that would carry the
pilgrims to, were later used inthe construction of the
Mayflower, the ship that wouldcarry the pilgrims to the New
World in 1620.
It's a story that blurs theline between fact and folklore,
but whether it's true or not,the thought of those timbers,
born from a place steeped insuch darkness, becoming part of
a vessel that symbolized hopeand freedom is a tantalizing
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paradox.
But the builders who laid thefirst stones of St Mary's Church
had no idea of the land'sdeeper history.
They couldn't have known thatthe ground they had chosen had
its own past, one that reachedback far beyond the church, to a
time when the earth wasworshipped as a living entity.
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To make way for their newedifice, streams that once
flowed freely across theproperty were diverted.
A minor inconvenience perhapsto men focused on their holy
mission.
But to those who understand theancient ways, the spiritual
significance of water cannot beunderstated.
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Water is a conduit, a battery,a vessel for spiritual energy,
and by redirecting it they mayhave disturbed something primal,
something that had lain dormantfor centuries.
When the Masons finished theirwork on St Mary's, the building
that had sheltered them was leftbehind.
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But instead of falling intodisrepair, it found a new
purpose.
It became a residence for thepriests of the church, a place
meant to be a haven of peace andsolitude.
Yet peace proved elusive.
The land beneath them had beenaltered, its energies disrupted,
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and there were whispers, eventhen, that the priests were not
alone.
As the years rolled on, thebuilding's purpose shifted like
the tides evolving with each newchapter of its long history.
What began as a humbleresidence for priests, men of
faith seeking peace and solitude, transformed into an inn, a
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public house that opened itsdoors to weary travelers, wary
locals and those looking for arefuge from the dangers lurking
on the roads.
But with this new life came newstories, tales that clung to
the walls like shadows, storiesof strange occurrences that
began to stain the inn'sreputation.
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The ancient Ram Inn, once asanctuary for the living, now
seemed to cradle something elseentirely, something that defied
the ordinary, something thattwisted the air with an uneasy
tension.
And so the ancient Ram Innbegan to gather its legends unto
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itself, one unsettling tale ata time.
But what was it about this placethat seemed to draw the
darkness like a moth to theflame?
Was it the consequences ofdisturbing the earth, of
redirecting the natural flow ofenergy?
Or was there something more,something deeper at play, a
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convergence of forces perhaps,that turned this building into a
siren song for the supernatural?
We've already uncovered how theancient Ram Inn's history
became tangled up with thedisturbed ground beneath it, how
the diverted streams andunearthed bones released
something that refuses to rest.
But what if that's just thesurface?
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What if there's somethingdeeper, something older than the
stones themselves?
Beneath the ancient ram innlies a force, something
invisible yet powerful, anetwork that has connected
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sacred sites for millennia,mystical pathways of energy that
might just hold the key tounderstanding the relentless
hauntings that have gripped thisplace for centuries.
Ley lines Straight invisiblepaths that crisscross the earth,
stitching together sacred sitesand ancient monuments like a
quilt of energy.
Some dismiss them as fanciful,the product of an overactive
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imagination, seeing patternswhere there are none, but for
others, ley lines are far morethey are the veins through which
the earth's spiritual energyflows, linking places of power
across vast distances.
Here's the thing the ancientRam Inn is believed to sit at
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the intersection of two of theselines, lines that some say
connected directly to Stonehengeand the Great Pyramids.
The concept of ley lines isrooted in the beliefs of our
ancestors, those who walked thisearth long before history had a
name.
They believed these lines heldthe power to shape the physical
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world, that they were chargedwith energies that could amplify
spiritual experiences.
Ancient civilizations didn'tjust stumble upon these sites,
they sought them out, buildingtheir monuments, temples and
burial grounds along these lines, hoping to harness the power
flowing beneath their feet.
And the ancient Ram Inn,unknowingly or not, was built at
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a crossroads of the spiritualnetwork, a place already sacred
to pagans, who once called thisland home.
But ley lines aren't just aEuropean idea.
They've appeared in culturesacross the globe.
In China they're called dragonlines, channels of powerful qi
energy that flow through theland.
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Native American tribes speak ofspirit lines guiding the souls
of the dead to the afterlife.
These ancient beliefs convergeon one simple truth the earth is
alive, pulsing with energy thatcan be harnessed, revered or,
if you're not careful, disturbed.
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In the case of the ancient RamInn, the convergence of these
ley lines is believed to havefar-reaching effects.
Those who study the paranormalsuggest these lines act as
highways for spiritual energy,allowing it to flow freely
between sites.
This might explain why the innhas become such a magnet for
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supernatural energy.
The energy from the ley linescould be amplifying the presence
of spirits.
There are theories, some oldand some new, that suggest the
pagans who first lived on thisland didn't stumble upon it by
accident.
They knew about the ley lines,knew they were sacred and buried
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their dead along them for areason they believed these lines
connected the physical worldwith the spiritual realm and by
placing their dead along theselines they hoped their spirits
would be safely carried into theafterlife, guided by the energy
flowing beneath the earth.
In recent years, the inn hasattracted countless paranormal
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investigators, drawn by itsinfamous reputation as one of
the most haunted sites inEngland.
Many of these investigatorshave encountered energy surges,
witnessed phenomena that defyconventional understanding and
had encounters that challengedthe boundaries of reality.
They speculate that the leylines beneath the inn might be
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amplifying these, acting asconduits for spiritual energy
and intensifying theotherworldly experiences within
its walls.
And the stories, thoseunsettling tales from those who
spent time in the ancient RamInn speak of such strange
occurrences Sudden drops intemperature, orbs of light that
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dance across the rooms and thatunmistakable feeling of being
watched by something unseen.
Some even claim to hear voices,whispers carried on the air
that seem to come from nowhere.
Could it be these ley linesthat anchor the spirits to this
place, pulling them back fromwherever they rest?
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Now, before you think I'vecompletely lost my marbles,
there's something I need to getoff my chest before we continue.
Folklore and legend have a wayof sinking their claws into a
place, holding on tight,refusing to let go, no matter
how many years pass by thesetales.
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Well, they're like shadowscreeping through time, whispered
from one generation to the next, until they're etched into the
very bones of the place.
Fact and fiction.
They're tangled up in a webthat's as sticky as it is
elusive.
Sure, not every ghostlyapparition or twisted bit of
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history can be pinned down withsolid proof.
A lot of what we're dealingwith here is cloaked in the fog
of local lore, shaped by thefears and imaginations of the
people who've walked these hallsbefore us.
But let's not kid ourselves.
Even if just a sliver of thesestories are true, the Ancient
Ram Inn is no ordinary hauntedhouse.
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It's a stronghold of theparanormal, and its intensity is
something you can't just brushoff with a skeptical wave of the
hand when you start to peelback the layers, looking at the
inn's deep connection to ancientpeoples, the sacred ground it's
perched on and thebone-chilling discoveries hidden
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within its walls.
Literally, it's not such astretch to believe that
something otherworldly might beat play here.
I'm a believer, no doubt aboutit, but I'm also a researcher.
I've learned not to let myselfget completely swept up in the
thrill of it all.
There's a razor-thin linebetween belief and blind faith,
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and as someone who's seen bothsides of the coin, it's my job
to tread that line carefully.
But don't misunderstand me.
Whether it's legend, folkloreor cold hard fact, whatever
label you want to slap on itlore or cold hard fact, whatever
label you want to slap on it,there's no denying the weight
these stories carry or thedarkness that clings to the
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ancient Ram Inn like a secondskin.
Just when you think the story ofthe ancient Ram Inn has reached
its darkest depths, when you'resure that the ancient burial
grounds and disturbed energiesmark the peak of its ominous
past, another shadowy lairemerges.
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This one drags us back to atime when fear held the land in
a death grip, when the ancientways once respected turned into
the stuff of nightmares.
It was an era where a merewhisper of witchcraft could seal
your fate in the mostterrifying and violent of ways.
The 1500s, an age soaked inparanoia, where the battle
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between holiness and darknessplayed out on a brutal stage.
Witch hunts raged acrossEngland like a wildfire, fanned
by a church and state desperateto crush any remaining ties to
the old beliefs.
Superstition became a weapon, ablunt tool used to stamp out
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those who clung to the ancientpractices, the rituals that had
kept their ancestors in harmonywith forces unseen.
One such story takes place righthere at the inn, they say a
woman accused of witchcraft,sought sanctuary within its
walls, but the inn, with all itshistory and strength, couldn't
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protect her from the frenzy ofthe witch hunters.
She was dragged from her hidingplace and faced the ultimate
horror Burned at the stake,condemned as a servant of the
devil.
That brutal act, born from thevery terror the powerful had
sown among the people, left ascar on the inn that has never
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truly healed.
But her story didn't end in theflames.
In the witch's room, as it'scome to be known, it's as if
time itself holds its breath, asthough the past exists almost
simultaneously to the present.
Those who step into that roomspeak of an air that presses
down on them, heavy andsuffocating, almost as though
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the walls themselves rememberthe terror of that day.
Some say they've seen her, aghostly face, pale and filled
with sorrow, peering out fromthe window, an echo of the fear
and agony that once consumed herIn the witch's room.
History is not a concept youread about.
It's something you feel, aweight that bears down on you as
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relentlessly as the fear thatcondemned her.
So now we have to wonder howmuch of the Ancient Ram Inn's
dark energy rises from thedisturbed earth and ley lines
below, and how much comes fromthe souls who met their tragic
ends here.
But don't think for a secondthat the Witch's Room is the
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only place where the pastrefuses to stay buried.
The inn is crawling withrestless spirits, each one more
unsettling than the last, aswirling vortex of dark energy.
As with any haunted location,not all the echoes of the past
are born from malice.
In my experience, more oftenthan not they're quite the
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opposite Sweet, kind, evenprotective Spirits that are too
often misunderstood because we,the living, are too quick to run
, too quick to let fear overridereason.
A faint knock on the wall, awhisper of cold air brushing
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against your skin these mightsend most people into a panic.
But what if these are desperateattempts to communicate?
What if, behind the spectraltouch, there's a soul just
trying to reach out to relay amessage from beyond the veil?
To me, it's a heartbreakingthought, the idea that spirits
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might watch us flee in terrorwhen all they want to do is
connect, to be heard, maybe evento protect us from something
far worse.
Rosie might be one such spirit.
I believe.
She's a guardian, a gentlepresence that, despite the
horrors she faced in life, haschosen to remain within the
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ancient ram inn, not out ofvengeance, but out of a deep,
abiding need to be acknowledged,to be understood.
Rosie was just a child.
Her life cut short and it'ssaid she was murdered within the
inn.
Another victim claimed by thedarkness that has seeped its way
into these walls.
But unlike the other spirits,rosie doesn't lash out in anger.
Her presence is known in thesoftest of ways.
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Guests who have stayed in theattic Rosie's domain, have
reported hearing the delicatesound of a child's laughter, a
sound that's more sad thansinister, like an echo of the
life she should have lived.
Some have felt a gentle tug ontheir clothing, like the small
hand of a child reaching out,have felt a gentle tug on their
clothing, like the small hand ofa child reaching out, trying to
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make contact.
It's in these small gestures,these quiet moments, that
Rosie's spirit reveals itself.
She doesn't seek to scare,although we may find ourselves
scared.
She seeks to connect, perhapseven to protect.
Imagine the confusion, theloneliness she must feel,
trapped in a place where everyattempt to reach out is met with
fear and misunderstanding.
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And yet, despite it all, shekeeps trying.
Rosie's story is a side of darkinnocence at the ancient Ram
Inn's twisted history.
She stands out.
She's different, a young girlcaught in a nightmare, yet
clinging to the hope thatsomeone someday will finally
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understand her message.
I imagine the spirit world is acomplex place, where not every
entity is out to harm, where theline between protector and
attacker isn't always clear.
I guess the next time you hearthe sound of a child's laughter
in an abandoned attic or feel asoft tug on your sleeve, maybe
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remember Rosie.
She's not necessarily here toscare you.
She's here to remind you thatnot all spirits are malevolent.
Some are just lost souls stillsearching for a connection,
still hoping to be seen.
But she isn't alone in theattic.
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There's another presence heretoo, one that's far more tragic,
far more haunting.
This presence isn't tied toinnocence, like Rosie, but to
the unbearable weight ofbetrayal and sorrow.
It's the spirit of the formerowner's daughter whose life
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ended here in this space andwhose pain hangs in the air like
a thick fog suffocatingeverything it touches, a pain
that stands in stark contrast toRosie's gentle attempts at
connection.
The story here goes that thiswoman, the daughter of a man who
once owned the inn, met her endin the attic, hanged by her own
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father in an act ofunimaginable cruelty.
Her spirit, they say, stilllingers here in the attic, where
the very air feels heavy withan overwhelming sense of
melancholy.
Those brave or foolish enough toventure up here often speak of
an unbearable sadness, adarkness that seems to seep into
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your bones, as though the wallsthemselves remember the exact
moment when life was snuffed outby a hand that should have been
there to protect.
It's a strange, powerful thing,the way two such different
energies can occupy the samespace.
On one side there's Rosie, achild, lost but unbroken, still
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reaching out with a spirituntouched by the darkness around
her, and on the other, theformer owner's daughter, a soul
weighed down by betrayal,burdened with a sorrow so deep
it's almost tangible.
To stand in this attic is tofeel the clash of these energies
, one perhaps light and oneperhaps more dark, both trapped
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in a place that has seen far toomuch pain.
It's so intriguing to me howsuch opposing forces can coexist
within the same four walls,each one telling a different
story echoing through time.
Perhaps it's this clash thatmakes the attic such a potent
place, a space where the fullspectrum of human emotions
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collide at the same moment,where innocence, fear, betrayal
and sorrow are allsimultaneously intertwined with
the energies of those who remain.
Much like the former owner'sdaughter, there's another one
whose presence is marked bybone-chilling sorrow.
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They call her Elizabeth.
Where other spirits might lashout in anger, elizabeth seems to
drift through the inn with asadness that's as heavy as the
air on a stormy day.
Her presence is quieter, moremournful, as though she carries
with her the weight of a tragedythat time has long since
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forgotten.
She's often seen as a shadowyfigure gliding silently through
the hallways.
Her form barely visible, buther sorrow, a feeling deep in
your chest, an ache that lingerseven long after she's gone.
Elizabeth is believed to havebeen a guest or resident of the
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inn, a woman slain, though thedetails of her death have been
swallowed by the shadows of time.
Those who have glimpsed herdescribe her as a figure dressed
in old-fashioned clothing, herface etched with a despair that
seems to reach across centuries.
Her face etched with a despairthat seems to reach across
centuries.
She's most commonly spottednear the stairs or in the
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darkened corridors where shewanders endlessly, as if
searching for something orsomeone, perhaps lost to her
forever.
Some claim to have heard hersoft sobs, a sound so
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heart-wrenching that it stickswith you, haunting your thoughts
, long after it's faded intosilence.
Unlike the more malevolentspirits that haunt these halls,
elizabeth doesn't seem to wantto frighten those who encounter
her.
Instead, she appears to betrapped in a sort of loop of
grief, a figure forever mourningin the place where her life was
snuffed out too soon.
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But as with any haunted place,not all spirits neatly fall into
categories of benevolent ormalevolent.
Some straddle the line, theirtrue intentions lost in a veil
of ambiguity.
Among the spirits said to roamthe ancient Ram Inn is one that
embodies this uncertainty Ayoung boy whose laughter echoes
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through the halls but whosepresence may be far from purely
innocent.
Visitors have reportedencounters with this boy, often
in the dead of night, when theinn is at its most still, when
the air seems to hold its breath.
At first his presence mightseem harmless childish giggles,
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the faint patter of small feet.
But those who have experiencedit describe an unsettling
undertone, a creeping dread thatseeps in as the laughter fades.
There's something off aboutthis child, something that
doesn't quite fit with the imageof a playful spirit.
Some say his laughter carries atrace of malice, a darkness
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perhaps lurking just beneath thesurface.
There are stories of guestsfeeling a sudden unexplainable
chill, followed by the unnervingsensation of being watched.
And then, in the corner oftheir vision, they might just
catch a glimpse A small figurestanding there, silent and
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unmoving, his eyes too old, tooknowing for a child.
Those who've seen him up closespeak of his appearance as
almost demonic, and anunsettling gaze that lingers
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unafraid to make eye contact.
Whether this boy is a productof the dark rituals rumored to
have been conducted within theinn, or something far older, far
more sinister, remains amystery, a mystery that haunts
those who dare to stay here asyou descend from the attic,
leaving behind the whispers ofRosie and the shadowed presence
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of the former owner's daughter.
The ancient Ram Inn, believe itor not, has more to reveal, much
, much more.
There's another room here, onethat has left even the bravest
souls shaken to their core.
The bishop's room, onceintended as a sanctuary for
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visiting clergy, has now becomethe epicenter of the inn's most
potent apparitions.
Over the centuries, this roomhas earned an incredible
reputation, boasting as many asnine different spirits, at least
the ones that we have names for, each more unnerving than the
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last.
In its earliest days, thebishop's room was a place of
refuge, a space where the holymen of the church could rest and
reflect, but as the yearsturned, this room became
something else entirely, a focalpoint for the inn's darkest
energies, a place where thesacred and the profane collide
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in the most disturbing of ways.
John Humphreys, the inn's lastlong-term owner, knew the
bishop's room was no ordinaryspace and he treated it with a
special kind of caution, alwaysknocking three times on the door
with his crooked walking stickbefore daring to enter, as
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anyone there he would call out.
Sometimes they would be nothingbut the cold still air, but
other times the walls would seemto answer back, reverberating
with knocks in echo from theother side, as if something was
acknowledging his presence, asilent confirmation that he was
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not alone and perhaps that hewas not welcome.
The stories that swirl aroundthe bishop's room are as dark as
they come.
Dark, spectral monks, theirfaces hidden beneath massive
deep hoods, have been seengliding through the room, their
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forms flickering like shadowsagainst the walls.
But they're not the only ones.
But they're not the only ones.
Visitors have described a formof deep, dark, machiavellian
high priestess, a spirit tiedperhaps to the inn's history of
witchcraft, and she has alsobeen spotted here.
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Her presence, when she appears,creates the sensation of
instant suffocation, the airbecoming thick with the remnants
of ancient forbidden rites,violent and angry.
Those who've encountered herspeak of a dread so deep.
It's as if they've stepped intoa place they were never meant
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to be, or perhaps that no humanever ever was, a space separate
from time, where the old waysstill hold sway and your life
perhaps has been found wanting.
But according to some records,the most unnerving of all, at
least to some visitors, is theRoman centurion.
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Witnesses have described interror the sight of seeing this
spectral soldier on horsebackcharging through the walls of
the bishop's room.
His apparition is sudden,fierce, as though he's still on
some ancient mission, trapped inan endless loop that forces him
to relive his final momentsover and over again.
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For some reason, to me I thinkthis apparition might be so
startling I might even find itfunny, but I suppose the shock
of it all might make anyonepause in fear.
But what is it about this roomthat draws such dark spirits?
Perhaps it's in mockery of thereligious sanctity that bishops
once represented and still do inmany ways, a cruel twist of
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fate for a room meant to be asanctuary, or perhaps it's
something deeper, a portal ofsorts, where the energies of the
past converge and are amplified, creating a vortex that pulls
in the restless dead.
Whatever the reason, thebishop's room is a place where
fear seems to take shape,reflecting back at us in forms
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that seem almost inspired fromour deepest, darkest nightmares.
The inn is a place where silencecan be more terrifying than any
sound, at least until thatsilence is shattered by the most
chilling noise of all thescream of a man in agony.
Visitors and investigatorsalike have reported hearing this
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blood-curdling scream echothrough the inn late at night, a
sound so visceral, so raw, thatit stops them dead in their
tracks, paralyzed with fear.
It might sound strange todescribe, but the disembodied
scream doesn't seem to hang onair the way we might anticipate.
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It seems to come from nowhereand everywhere all at once,
reverberating through theancient timbers themselves, like
a ghostly wail from the veryheart of the building.
Ancient timbers themselves likea ghostly wail from the very
heart of the building.
Some speculate that the screambelongs to a man who met a
gruesome end within these walls,much like others, his final
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moments of pain and terrorimprinted onto the very fabric
of the structure, echoing fromtime to time like a record.
Others believe it's somethingeven more unsettling, perhaps a
manifestation of the negativeenergy that has seeped into the
inn over the centuries, a cry ofanguish from the countless
spirits trapped within theiragony, so intense that it
pierces through the veil betweenour worlds.
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But there's something evendarker still, a force that
doesn't just haunt you but huntsyou.
Meet the Incubus, a demon bornfrom the deepest recesses of
ancient nightmares, an entitythat takes your darkest fears
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and twists them into ahorrifying reality.
The Incubus is not a figment offolklore, at least not in my
experience.
It's real.
It's a terror that has beenetched into the nightmares of
cultures around the world formillennia.
Typically depicted as amalevolent male entity, the
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Incubus is said to prey on thesleeping, especially women,
inducing nightmares so vivid andterrifying that they blur the
line between dream and reality.
According to ancient beliefs,this demon would do more than
just haunt your dreams it wouldviolate you in the most personal
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, terrifying way imaginable.
The very word incubus comesfrom the Latin incubare, meaning
to lie upon, perfectlycapturing the horror of those
who have encountered it, thecrushing sensation of being
pinned down, unable to move, asif something dark and oppressive
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is pressing down on your chest.
I fear anyone who's ever haddark entities in their home as a
child perhaps might be relatingto what I'm describing in a
terrifying way.
While folklore often describesthe Incubus as a demon preying
upon the vulnerable, it has alsobeen depicted with specific,
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terrifying physical traits andfor those who, as I mentioned,
might be relating to this, usecaution if you want to hear me
describe this, for fear ofbringing back deep, unsettling
memories.
Imagine a human-like form, butwith twisted features, shadowy
skin, cold as death, with anaura of pure malice emanating
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from it.
Its eyes, often seen glowingwith an unnatural light, pierce
the darkness with a gaze thatparalyzes its victims instantly,
filling them with a dread sointense it seems that their very
soul is being torn apart, theirbrain no longer in control of
their physical body.
Some accounts describe theincubus with bat-like wings,
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leathery, ominous, spreading outlike a blanket to cover its
prey as it exerts its terrifyingpower.
Others speak of sharp claws ortalons, deadly and capable of
inflicting real harm as thecreature pins its victims down.
At the ancient Ram Inn,witnesses have reported feeling
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the oppressive weight of theincubus pressing on their chest,
but sightings in its full formare rare.
Perhaps this only adds to theterror, knowing it's there
lurking in the dark but neverfully seeing it.
The origins of the incubus canbe traced back to ancient
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Mesopotamian mythology, wheredemons like Lilu and Lilitu were
believed to stalk and seducepeople during the night.
These early conceptions of theincubus were later woven into
the mythologies of the Greek andRomans, but it was during the
European Middle Ages that theincubus became firmly entrenched
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in Christian demonology.
The church seized upon thefigure of the incubus, using it
as a terrifying cautionary tale,a warning about the dangers of
lust and the vulnerability ofthe human soul to demonic
influence during sleep.
In medieval Europe, the incubusbecame a go-to explanation for
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a host of inexplicablephenomenon which I suppose over
the years has caused many tothink that it's not real at all.
These phenomena ranged fromsleep paralysis to nocturnal
emissions and other conditionsthat baffled the people of the
time.
The incubus was said to visitits victims at night, lying upon
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them and sometimes evenattempting to father children
with them, as in the legend ofMerlin, who was believed to be
an offspring of an incubus witha human woman.
The fear of this demon was sopervasive that women would often
accuse the incubus of assaultwhen no other explanation could
be found, reflecting thisdeep-seated fear of demonic
(46:56):
influence that haunted themedieval mind.
At the Ancient Ram Inn, though,the Incubus was not a legend.
It was a living nightmare.
John Humphreys, the owner,spoke of his own terrifying
encounters with this entity.
Humphreys claimed that theincubus would visit him in the
(47:17):
night, holding him down with aforce that he described as
almost unbearable.
It wasn't just a haunting, itwas an assault, a direct and
physical manifestation of evil.
His experiences became sofrequent and intense that he
believed the incubus was feedingoff his fear, growing stronger
(47:38):
with each encounter.
Other guests, too, havereported similar experiences,
waking in the dead of the nightto find themselves paralyzed,
unable to move as the incubusexerted its dreadful power to
move as the incubus exerted itsdreadful power.
Some have reported beingphysically touched by the
incubus, an experience sohorrifying that it drove them to
(48:00):
flee the inn, sometimes evenleaping from the windows in a
desperate attempt to escape.
The impact of the incubus wasso profound that it's believed
by some to be one of the reasonsthe inn was eventually closed
as a bed and breakfast, by someto be one of the reasons, the
inn was eventually closed as abed and breakfast.
The demon's presence made itimpossible for guests to feel
(48:23):
safe, as reports of its attacksspread fear among all who
visited.
It's said that John Humphreyshimself was never free from the
incubus, sharing his bedroomwith this terrifying entity,
until the day he died.
But where there's an incubus,you'll often find its sinister
counterpart, a succubus, afemale demon with intentions
(48:44):
just as malevolent, if not moreso.
The succubus, like her malecounterpart, has roots that
reach deep into ancient lore too, her shadowy figure appearing
in myths and legends ofcountless cultures.
Traditionally, the succubus issaid to seduce men as they sleep
, draining their life forceuntil they're left weak or,
(49:07):
worse, dead.
These demons often take theform of beautiful women, but
their allure is a deadly trap.
Look closer and you'll see thesigns Sharp claws, serpentine
eyes and an aura of danger thatclings to them too.
The succubus embodies theancient fear of female sexuality
(49:31):
, a fear that has haunted themale imagination for centuries,
turning desire into somethingtwisted, something that walks
the razor's edge between ecstasyand destruction.
In medieval Christiandemonology, the succubus was the
symbol of temptation, amanifestation of the sins of
(49:52):
lust and sexual excess.
The church was quick to exploitthis fear, using it as a weapon
to instill guilt and shame.
The dread of the succubusbecame so widespread that it was
blamed for everything fromunexplained illnesses to
infertility and even death.
(50:12):
Reports of a succubus at theancient Ram Inn are less common
than those of the incubus, butthey're no less terrifying.
Men who've stayed at the inntell of waking in the dead of
the night to find a shadowyfigure looming over them, a
woman with an otherworldlybeauty that quickly morphs into
horror as she reveals her truenature.
(50:33):
They speak of being paralyzed,unable to move or cry out, as
the succubus presses down ontheir chest, stealing their
breath and leaving them drainedof energy.
Some have even fled in themiddle of the night, hearts
pounding with fear, convincedthat they had narrowly escaped
death.
But what kind of man wouldwillingly endure such torment?
(50:58):
In 1968, the ancient Ram Innteetered on the edge of oblivion
.
This historic building, whichhad stood sentinel for over 800
years, was slated fordestruction.
But then John Humphreys steppedin.
He couldn't bear the thought ofthis ancient structure being
lost to time, so he bought it,determined to preserve it.
(51:21):
But what he didn't know wasthat he wasn't just buying a
piece of history he was buyinginto a lifetime of encounters
with the supernatural.
From the very first night theinn made its presence known.
He was violently dragged fromhis bed by an unseen force,
setting the tone for the yearsthat would follow.
(51:43):
Yet despite the terror, he neverwavered in his commitment to
the inn.
To him, preserving the buildingwas more than just an act of
historical conservation.
It was a way of honoring thecountless lives that had passed
through its doors, even if thoselives continued to make
themselves known to him in waysthat were anything but peaceful.
(52:04):
But dedication like this comesat a price.
Humphrey's family couldn'tendure the constant barrage of
paranormal activity.
His wife and daughterseventually left, driven away by
the malevolent forces thatseemed to target them
relentlessly.
But John stayed behind,resolute in his mission, even as
(52:28):
he became the inn's soleresident.
The isolation, combined withthe ever-present supernatural
disturbances, only deepened hisconnection to the inn and to its
dark, hidden secrets.
As John dug deeper into theinn's history, he uncovered
evidence that would cement itsreputation as a place of
(52:50):
darkness and foster the legendsthat would follow During one of
his many renovations.
The story goes that hediscovered the skeletal remains
of children entombed within itswalls victims, it's believed, of
an ancient ritual sacrifice.
The presence of broken daggersamong the bones suggested these
(53:11):
children were part of somelong-forgotten rite, possibly
linked to the inn's allegedhistory of witchcraft.
But the story continues that itwasn't just human remains that
Humphreys found.
In another part of the inn heuncovered the remains of what
appeared to be animalssacrificed to in ancient rituals
Cats Mummified.
(53:33):
These remains and daggerssuggested that the inn had been
the site of pagan ceremonieslong before it became a place of
refuge or torment for theliving.
In ancient times it wasn'tuncommon to place animals within
the walls of a building as akind of good luck charm, a way
to protect the inhabitants fromevil spirits.
(53:54):
But this particular cat, longdead and mummified, may have had
its own unfinished business, assome say that the spirit of a
black cat haunts the very roomwhere its mummified body was
found.
These discoveries they suggestthat the rituals performed here,
whether for protection ordarker purposes, left a lasting
(54:17):
imprint on the building.
For nearly five decadesHumphreys lived among these
spirits, never once consideringabandoning the inn.
He often said he felt a duty toprotect it and its history, no
matter the cost.
To protect it and its history,no matter the cost.
Even as the paranormal activityescalated, with reports of
(54:38):
visitors being attacked andpoltergeists wreaking havoc,
humphreys remained a guardian ofthe inn's secrets until the
very end.
John Humphreys passed away in2017, still the owner and sole
occupant of the ancient Ram Inn.
He died in the place he haddedicated his life to saving,
(55:04):
surrounded by the spirits thathad both tormented and defined
his existence.
So, in the end, what do we takeaway from a place like the
ancient Ram Inn?
Is it just another ghost story,a collection of eerie tales and
unexplainable phenomena that wecan shrug off as legend or
fiction, or is it something more?
John Humphreys, now, there wasa man who faced what most of us
(55:30):
would flee from.
For nearly 50 years, he livedin the belly of that beast,
surrounded by entities thatwould send anyone else running
for the hills, but he didn't run.
He stayed.
He faced the darkness head on,day after day, night after night
(55:50):
, and in doing so, he becamepart of the very history he
sought to preserve.
A man haunted not just by thespirits of the past, but by the
weight of knowing that somethings are beyond explanation,
beyond understanding.
The past isn't just some memory.
(56:12):
It lingers, it echoes andsometimes it refuses to let go.
The energy we leave behinddoesn't simply disappear.
It's there, imprinted on theplaces we've been, on the people
we've touched, the lives we'veintersected.
(56:33):
And sometimes that energy isstrong enough, determined enough
to reach across time, demandingto be acknowledged.
I think we like to think ofourselves as separate from the
past, living in the now, cut offfrom what came before, but the
truth is we're all connected bythese spaces we inhabit, by the
(56:59):
memories we share, by the fearsand hopes that bind us together
in this fragile thing we calllife.
Maybe the ancient Ram Inn is areminder of that connection,
that we're not alone, that theenergies of those who came
before still resonates, stillshapes the world we live in.
(57:20):
What are the places in your ownlife where this past still
endures?
The spaces that feel heavy withmemory, the moments that seem
to echo with something more?
What energy have you leftbehind?
And what will you carry withyou when you leave?
Because, in the end, maybe thereal phantoms aren't the spirits
(57:46):
that we fear, but therealization that we too are
leaving something behind.
The lines between our worldsand the next are far blurrier
than we'd like to admit, andmaybe, perhaps that's the most
haunting truth of all.
Thank you, you.
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