The Black Dog of Newgate.

The remains of Newgate Prison, photo by L Wall, 2023

Exiting the tube station at St Paul's, I immediately regretted not bringing my scarf and hat; it was bitterly cold. While not a long walk from the station, I still managed to get lost twice, even with the help of Google Maps. My destination? An unassuming and overlooked lane, inaccessible to the public and hiding an interesting piece of London's history. At the end of the lane, tucked away behind lush greenery and the bins, is an old wall. The last remaining wall of the infamous Newgate Prison. And, of course, it's haunted.

Opened in 1188 and closed in 1902, Newgate resulted from Henry II bringing in new legal reforms in 1166. Unfortunately it was poorly maintained and run, a place where you were likely to die of some horrible disease before you reached your trial date. Rich or poor, innocent or guilty, Newgates doors were open to all. Some of its more well-known inmates included Captain Kidd, Daniel Defoe and (briefly) Oscar Wilde.

Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while, or have even been following me on Twitter and Instagram, know I'm a sucker for a Black Dog story. So it should be no surprise that when I came across this gruesome tale my interest was peaked. Not your typical spectral hound, the story of the Black Dog of Newgate hits a bit differently. Rather than being an omen of doom to all who see it, this pooch was only interested in one thing, revenge.

Our story starts during the reign of Henry III, amid a terrible famine. People were struggling and suffering from the lack of food, but the situation was especially dire for those locked in Newgate Prison. As criminals they just weren't a priority when it came to supplies and had been getting so little that some had resorted to cannibalism. Despite being aware of this, the authorities were still sending people to the jail, and one of these unfortunates was an unnamed Scholar. The starving inmates of Newgate took the phrase "fresh meat" to a whole new level when they attacked and devoured him. Had they known that the Scholar had been sent to prison on charges of sorcery, they probably would have left him alone, but he was weak, and they were desperate. Little did they know that this monstrous act would come back to haunt them.  

First, prisoners reported seeing the Scholar himself wandering the prison, but man's true vengeance would manifest in the form of a ghastly black hound. The beast had glowing red eyes, and gore dripped from its tooth-filled maw as it stalked the corridors of Newgate. While the sight of it alone was enough to make a few of the weaker men drop dead of fright, others faced a much more terrifying fate. The hound turned vicious when it got bored of toying with the prisoners. It would appear in locked cells, then tear the men inside to shreds before vanishing. Imagine the horror of the prisoners as, night after night, their cells were filled with growls, blood-curdling screams and the sounds of men being torn limb from limb. 

Horrific as the attacks were, one thing soon became apparent. The Dog was only attacking those responsible for the Scholar's murder, hunting them down in the jail's darkest corners, hell-bent on wiping them all out. 

Upon realising this, the surviving murderers panicked. Together they organised a jailbreak, killing some of the prison guards in their desperate scramble for freedom. They would have been hung if they had been re-arrested, which would have been a mercy. Unfortunately for them the Scholar's wrath wasn't limited to the walls of Newgate, and you can't outrun four legs on two. All of the killers were hunted down and slaughtered. When its task was completed, the Black Dog returned to Newgate Prison, where it seems content to lurk up to this day. 

This gruesome tale could easily be the plot of a horror movie, but allegedly it's a true story. Our first written account of the Back Dog of Newgate was from a pamphlet (or chapbook.) published in 1596 by a highwayman named Luke Hutton. This was likely a pen name with a false backstory attached as an attempt to boost sales, as books written by criminals were popular even back then. The story might pre-date publication, but we don't have the original version as proof, which would have been told word of mouth. It's doubtful that it resembled the fantastical story that was published. If it was a pre-existing tale, then it's more likely that it became exaggerated over time till it became the horror story we know today. But one fact remains, true or not, people claim to have seen the hound. There have been sightings of a shadowy, dog-like thing slinking around the remaining wall. Reports include a terrible smell*, not unlike that of death, and the sound of footsteps. The area itself is meant to have a strange atmosphere. 

While certainly not one of London's most well-known ghost stories, I'm pretty fond of this tale of revenge from beyond the grave. I came across the story by chance, on Tik-Tok of all places. I got curious and had to look into the tale more. After that I couldn't resist a visit to the location. Sadly, as I've said previously, the site is not accessible to the public, so I couldn't get any closer than I did in my photo, and even that was zoomed in a bit. 

Have you ever been to this location and witnessed something strange or supernatural? I love to hear your stories! Tell us about them in the comments section below, or tag me in a Tweet!

The Black Dog of Newgate

* The wall is near some bins, so they might have been responsible for the Terrible Smell in more modern times. Either that or it's terrible dog breath, and we need to break out the paranormal pedigree dentastix.

Fae on Film: The Cottingley Fairies.

The Fae are a big part of our folklore, having seemingly existed for as long as we have written records.  For creatures that may or may not exist, they are important to us, continuing to be a big part of our culture and some religions to this day. They also have a fascinating duality to them; the dark creatures of our folklore and the glittering nymphs of our fairytales. And it's those saccharine sweet Fairytale Fairies that we'll be looking at today. The darker Folks will get a blog post of their own another day.

The Victorians (or at least those who could afford to be) were a desperately romantic bunch, clinging to magic and mystery in a world that was rapidly becoming swamped by industry and science. Spiritualism was still finding its feet in the world, all that was mystical or paranormal was being sought out. So, when in 1917, photos came to light of two young girls posing with seemingly real fairies, people were delighted. These photos are iconic. Chances are you've seen them before and, even if you weren't aware of where they came from, you were most likely charmed by them. It's hard not to be. Like something from a fairytale, innocent-looking girls surrounded by crowds of delicate, dancing Fairies. Although, by modern standards (either photoshop, CGI or a man in a Bigfoot costume) they're clearly fake, in the 1900's photography was still an ever evolving art. 

By Elsie Wright (1901–1988) - Scan of photographs, PD-US

Francis Griffith (10 years old) had travelled to England from South Africa, to stay with her Aunt,
Uncle and 13-year-old cousin, Elsie Wright. The two soon became best friends, inseparable. So, how are these children responsible for one of the worlds most famous hoaxes? The same way many hoaxes start. It was a prank. With a beautiful garden to play in and only a sparkling brook separating it from the local woods, they could let their imaginations run wild. So it's somewhat unsurprising that when they were told off for continuously coming home with torn pinafores and muddy shoes, they chose to blame the whole mess on the fairies they claimed lived at the bottom of the garden. No matter how many times they were scolded, the girls insisted it was because they'd been playing with the fairies and told their parents that they could prove it, if Elsie's father would just lend them his camera. After a quick lesson on how to use it, the girls trotted off with the camera, only to return an hour later. And, when the glass plates from the camera were developed, they showed the girls interacting with what appeared to be Fairies. Elsie's father immediately called the girls out on it, correctly guessing that the Fairies were paper cut-outs, even going as far as to search their rooms and the garden for evidence when they insisted the little people in the photos were real. Unable to find anything, he confiscated the camera. Elsie's mother, while shocked, believed the photos were real. Nothing her husband could say could convince her otherwise, but she still wanted to get proof and took the photos to Bradford with her, where she attended a meeting held by the Theosophical Society, who were dedicated to investigating the paranormal. When the lectures had finished, she pulled the speaker aside and explained the whole situation to him. Taking a look at the photos, he was so convinced of their authenticity, that he took them to their annual conference and put them on display for all attending to see. One of the many people attending that conference was a Mr Edward Gardner.

Edward Gardner

Gardner was fascinated but, like Elsie's Father, also a little sceptical. He was the first person to take the photos to an independent expert to be examined, although the expert became convinced that the photos were real after finding no evidence that the glass plate had been tampered with. And it's here that the innocent prank turns into a full-on hoax, as word of the photos and Gardner's testing of them reaches the ears of Sir Conan Arthur Doyle; creator of Sherlock Holmes and enthusiastic seeker of the paranormal. As convinced as everyone else that the girls had produced evidence of the existence of Fairies, he wanted to bring the photos to an even wider audience. As a contributor to The Strand Magazine, he contacted the Wights to ask for their permission to publish the photos and an article about them. And when he gained permission from the surprised family, he contacted Gardner. Working together, Gardner and Doyle would go on to get the photos checked out by more photography experts. Only one of these was convinced the whole thing was faked, so they disregarded his opinion, choosing to go with the majority. 

1920 bought more fairy photos. Doyle was busy and asked Gardner to visit the girls, investigate their story further and secure more evidence. The trip was a success. The girls agreed to take more photos, but on the understanding that they would be allowed to do so alone. The fairies, they explained to Gardner, would only appear to children and only then when there were no adults present. This allowed them to set up some hastily made paper models and shoot a few photos. One can assume that it also gave them some time to panic in private and discuss what on earth they were going to do, because the prank had

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

gone too far. They weren't just fooling their parents anymore, there were serious intellectuals involved and they thought the photos were real. Three photos were taken and these would be the last ones the girls ever produced. Even when Gardner visited them again in 1921 with a medium in tow, the girls told him there were no fairies present at that time. This didn't matter to Doyle, however. He proceeded to publish a second article on the subject, and even used the photos to write a book, The Coming of the Fairies, which was published in 1922. Both the article and the book were met with mixed reactions, the Cottingley Fairies fame had started to wane with that of the supernatural. Some people were still convinced, but others were sure they were faked, even calling into question the Fairies "fashionable" hairstyles as evidence of this. Even though people had lost interest, the story didn't end there, not for Elsie and Francis. For decades after they would have to put up with people wanting to speak to them about the fairies, but these people only wanted to know if the photos were fake and how they'd done it. I've got to give them credit, they were as brave as they were clever, admitting nothing. Even when James Randi got involved in the 1970s, pointing out that the Fae in the photos were identical to those published in a book from the 1900s, a book the girls were most likely to have owned, they said nothing. It wasn't until 1983 that the photos were officially debunked, with Elsie admitting they were faked. Her father had been right when he'd said they were paper cutouts and Randi was right when he'd spoken about the book. The girls had traced the books illustrations, colouring them in and mounting them on hairpins. This allowed them to stand the Fairies up without fear of them falling mid-photograph. They maintained the hoax out of pure embarrassment, Elsie reported. After fooling Gardner and Doyle, the articles and the book, it was easier to keep up the ruse than admit that it was false. And Francis? Francis swore the photos were genuine to the very end.

By Frances Griffiths (died 1986) - Scan of photograph, PD-US

I can only wonder how that felt for Elsie and Francis, to live their whole lives haunted by what started as a harmless bit of fun, to live with the knowledge that if they told the truth then it wouldn't be a few people laughing about it but hundreds of them, mocking and jeering. The dread of knowing that they'd go down in history not as the Boy Who Cried Wolf but as the Girls Who Cried Fairy. In Victorian times, a persons reputation was everything and once that reputation was damaged, they would either become a joke to their peers or be shunned completely. And, of course, they would have known that it wasn't just their reputations at risk, but Gardner and Doyle's too.

I don't know about you, but I'm fond of the Cottingley Fairy photos. The images speak of a more innocent time, something a lot of us left behind in our own childhoods. They must have had so much fun taking those first photos, before it all spiralled out of control. At the same time, there's something sad about them and I think that feeling stems from knowing the story behind them and what the girls went through for their entire lives.

What do you guys think? Sympathetic, or serves them right? Harmless prank turned hoax to save their reputations, or malicious prank stemming from a string of lies? Let me know in the comments below or tag me in a Tweet, you guys know I love to hear from you!

Scaredy Cat: Phantom Felines and Cursed Cats

With so many types of ghosts out there, would it surprise you if I told you that some of them were animals? Not all places are haunted by spectral monks and sad ladies in white flowing gowns. Over the years there have been many reports of ghostly animals; I've covered the Black Shuck before and even touched on the Tower of Londons resident Bear, but other than that I haven't really covered any other creepy critters. So let's remedy that situation with some Phantom Felines.   

Photo by OliBac, CC BY 2.0

Killakee House, Dublin, Ireland.

Probably the most well-known ghost cat on this list. The Black Cat of Killakee House is incredibly angry and has every reason to be so, as it may have been a victim of the infamous Hellfire Club, who were active in the area during the 1700s and were responsible for the ritualistic death of a black cat. But the cat's story doesn't really start until 1968, when a young couple bought the house. It was a bit of a fixer-upper, but they had big plans for their new home and put the initial strange happening down to it being an old building in need of a lot of work. Then, in the 1970s, they bought in builders and things turned a little sinister. Eerie noises, doors opening on their own and temperature drops were only the start of it. The spooked builders found themselves stalked by a massive, terrifying black cat with red glowing eyes. They had had enough. They fled the house and refused to return. And although the family had originally believed the men were just being superstitious, they soon started to encounter the aggravated beast themselves and, in the end, had to call a priest to perform an exorcism on the property.

While this seemed to work at the time, it was only a temporary fix. A group visiting the house decided to hold a seance for fun and this started up the hauntings again. 

Short Street, Longton, Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire.

Short Street is a narrow, cobbled street that runs along the back of a derelict pottery works and is home to a small collection of traditional workers cottages. These cottages are the haunt of one very shy little ghost. Often spotted sitting on the doorstep of one of the cottages, this friendly seeming puss is fond of disappearing into thin air when approached. Many people have been surprised by this and the ghost has been witnessed by multiple people at a time. Why it haunts the cottages is unknown, maybe it was just happy there in life and is unwilling to leave.

King John's Hunting Lodge, Axbridge, Somerset.

Built in the 1400s as a wool merchants house, King John's Hunting Lodge is now a museum and is home to more than one ghost. The one seen most often, by staff and visitors alike, is that of a friendly tabby cat. This benign little soul is often found hanging around in a wood-panelled room on the first floor and people have often fully interacted with it, talking and petting it, before having it pull a ghostly vanishing act on them. You're more likely to come across this spirit if you don't actively look for it, so enjoy the exhibits the museum has to offer and maybe you'll make a spooky new friend.

The Nutshell, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk.

The Nutshell is a beautiful little pub, dating back to the 1800s, known as Britain's Smallest Pub. And while it's decorated by many interesting objects, what I'll be writing about is hanging above the bar; the resident mummified cat.

Hiding a dead cat in the walls of your house for good luck was a gruesome tradition that was common back in the 15th to 18th centuries, when people believed that it would protect the home from bad luck and evil spirits. And it would appear that this cat is happy to do so, providing you don't touch it. Invading this cat's personal space gets you cursed with some incredibly bad luck. A landlady once attempted to clean the cat, accidentally snapping off part of its tail. Soon after she lost her job. Following this, the cat was kidnapped (catnapped?) by a group of mischievous servicemen from nearby RAF Honington. Their amusement soon turned to horror, as they found themselves experiencing an unusual steak of accidents and fires, and they quickly returned the cat. 

So buy yourself a pint and have fun, but stick to admiring this cat from a safe distance.

The Ancient Ram Inn, Wotton-Under-Edge, Gloucestershire.

The Ancient Ram Inn is home to so many spirits, both good and bad, that it's worthy of a blog post of its very own. And with so many ghosts haunting one place, does it surprise you that a cat is lurking among them? It's said that, in the 16th century, a woman who was sentenced to be burnt at the stake managed to flee and took shelter in one of the rooms at the inn. She, like many innocent people during those times, had been accused of witchcraft. Despite her bid for freedom, the poor thing was recaptured and burnt at the stake with her familiar, a cat. This cat now haunts the inn, roaming the bedrooms and has a nasty habit of peeing on the beds. Charming.

As for the Ancient Ram Inn's other ghostly inhabitants? That's a blog post for another day.

So, those are our five paranormal felines. Have you ever visited any of these locations and experienced anything? Have you seen or heard about a phantom feline anywhere else? I'd love to hear your story. Let me know in the comments below or tag me in a post on Twitter.

The Mystery of the Rendlesham Forest Incident.

Twas the night after Christmas, and all through Rendlesham Forest, not a creature was stirring, except for some mysterious lights and a lot confused American Airmen.

The 26th of December, 1980. It's the early hours of the morning, the night is still and cold. Personnel at the American Air Force operated bases of RAF Woodbridge and RAF Bentwaters (in Suffolk, England.) are expecting a calm, if not a little boring, night shift. They aren't expecting to see unidentified lights descending upon the nearby Rendlesham Forest. Despite the Cold War still being frosty enough to ice skate on, it was decided that it must be a downed aircraft, albeit one that hadn't called for help and was on an unannounced flight plan. The police were called and immediate aid was sent out, in the form of a three unarmed men, Burroughs, Penniston and Cabansaq. They didn't find a downed plane or helicopter. What they found was straight out of an episode of the X-Files. 

They found what can only be described as a UFO: a metallic cone shaped object, with glowing coloured lights, surrounded by a sickly yellow mist.

Penniston's sketch of the craft.

The object just sat there on three tripod like legs. It had settled down in a small clearing in the forest, seemingly unbothered by the curious humans surrounding it. It sounds like a bad 1950's B movie. I think most people would have just run, but these were soldiers and they had nerves of steel, they chose to hold their ground. Braving the fear of the unknown, these witnesses were able to get quite close to the object. Penniston even edged close enough to touch it, pulling out a notebook to draw the craft and describing the air as being full of electricity in a later interview. It was estimated to be about 10ft long and about 8ft high, with strange symbols on it's hull, not dissimilar to hieroglyphs. A short while later the unknown craft retracted it's legs and shot off into the sky. Although the men attempted to follow it, there was no earthly way they could have caught it. While this was occuring, the local police had arrived at the base. In their opinion the only lights they could see were from a lighthouse at the coast, a few miles away at Orford Ness. However the Orford Ness lighthouse is unlikely to show up on radar, which is exactly what the unknown craft that was seen that night did, when it was reported by a nearby military radar station. Sightings occurred again the following night, when a young Airman by the name of Lori Boeon spotted the craft whist on night watch. She wasn't alone in seeing it, as there were five fellow airmen with her that night. The strange lights were passed off as nothing more than fireworks.
Events seemed to come to the head the following evening. Whilst a party was happening at the base the UFO was spotted again and a team lead by Lt. Colonel Charles Halt headed back to the clearing where the the first sighting had taken place. Lt. Colonel Halt was second in command at the base, showing just how seriously this odd event was being taken. Although his initial intention may have been to debunk the incident from the previous two nights, he soon found that to be an impossible task. Searching the clearing they found clear evidence of the first nights events. Trees surrounding the clearing had been visibly singed and had broken branches from about 20ft up, in the center of the clearing were three visible indentations from the objects feet*, which measured out a perfect triangle and match Pennington's sketches. They had bought scientific equipment with them, a test with a radiation survey meter revealed that the levels of radiation in the clearing were much higher than the normal background levels of radiation found outside of the clearing. Not enough to be dangerous, but still abnormal. And if that didn't alarm Halt and his team, what happened next most certainly did. They saw IT for themselves.

UFO statue, based on Penniston's sketches. Photo by myself.

This time the craft flowed through the trees, dripping what appeared to be some kind of molten metal, traces of which were never found. Halt and his team chased after the UFO as it zipped along, causing no damage to the trees as it passed through them. It hovered through the air, firing beams of light at the air base and, at one point, it's fascinated pursuers. As Halt and his men followed it into a field outside the forest, the UFO seemed to explode into five different points of light before vanishing. Both bases reported having beams of light shone into them from above that night and, like the soldiers who first sighted it, Halt and his group had radio issues for the entire time the UFO was flying around.
During all of the incidents livestock in the area became franticly distressed and both Burrough's and Halt's groups heard what they described as a woman screaming, although it is possible that could have been a fox as they do make very similar sounds. It is also worth mentioning that the Police officers theory of the lights being from the nearest light house was debunked, since the lights of the mysterious craft and those of the lighthouse were both visible at the same time and a good space apart. What adds further credibility to the incident is that it was witnessed by Airbase personnel of all levels of command, from lowest to highest. These aren't just kids messing around, someone after a quick buck, someone stoned out of their mind or a drunk on their way home from the pub. These are sensible, down to earth people. In their line of work they have to be. Even Lt. Col. Halt was so convinced that something odd was going on that he personally got involved in the investigation. He recorded his experiences on a hand held tape recorder, which you can listen to here, and wrote an official memo on the subject to the MOD, which you can read here, a couple of weeks after the event. Someone prone to imagining little green men doesn't get that high up the chain of command and to this day he swears what he saw was a UFO.
I imagine that after reading all of that that you are asking the same question that everyone asks, the question that I've asked myself. What the hell was it? Not an easy subject to approach when there's so many conspiracy theories around the event, but at the same time so much evidence. To this day UFOlogists swear that it's the most compelling evidence of life on other planets visiting us, it's what has lead to the incident being referred to as the British Roswell. The most popular theory that I've read is that the base was either being used to secretly hold nuclear weapons or experimental jets, and that the UFO was attracted by that since it seemed more interested in the base than the humans around it. Adding fuel to these theories is that some evidence from the investigation was allegedly removed from RAF Bentwaters and was transferred to another American Airbase in Germany. This has lead some to believe that even though information on the incident was released to the public, something important is still being covered up. Further proof for these theories also comes from reports that Airmen involved in the incident have been bullied into changing their stories with threats of bodily harm or worse. Seeing that these claims come from the airmen themselves, I'd say these threats failed.

Rendlesham Forest. Photo by Myself.

More recently there have been reports that the whole thing was a prank, one played by the SAS on the terrified American airmen using a weather balloon, but even that doesn't sit right in my mind. Funny, but otherwise difficult and expensive to pull off, as well as being a PR nightmare if it turned out to be true. And, seriously, how does a weather balloon zip through trees? How does one drip molten substances, effect background radiation levels and just vanish into thin air. The simple answer is that it doesn't. I would love to tell you it was an alien space craft. I would love to be able to sit here at my computer, doing my very best Giorgio Tsoukalos impression, ALIENS! But I can't. Because I don't believe it was aliens. I'm not a big believer in them as we see them depicted in the media, little grey fellas with big, dark eyes. I do believe there's something out there, I believe we're aren't alone in this huge, crazy, magical universe. And I do believe those airmen saw something. But I don't believe this was the work of little green men from mars. What I do believe is that there is something going on there. You don't remove evidence if there's nothing going on, you don't try to silence people if there is nothing to hide. The announcement that it was a prank played by the SAS, which itself came from an anonymous source, comes across as a lame excuse. My personal opinion is that it was some sort of experimental equipment designed for observation, maybe some sort of early drone prototype, and that whoever built it was using the two bases for a test run. The sighting where the thing exploded and disappeared could have been down to a design fault or built in explosive charges. This is just my theory, it's most likely as far from the truth as any other theory out there. But when it comes down to it, theories are all we have. We will never know what the UFO was, where it came from or what it wanted.

The Rendlesham Forest UFO trail

The UFO Trail is very well marked. Photo by Myself.

Shortly before writing this blog I was lucky enough to visit the forest with my two friends, M and D. Although aware of the forest and its story, D didn't realise we were that close to it and I somehow had it in my head that it was further north. So when we stumbled upon Rendlesham by accident, it was a delightful surprise. The forest itself is dense and lush, a place of rich greens and deep shadows. With well marked trails its nearly impossible to get lost, but very easy to lose all sense of time. Not ideal if, like me, you messed up with the parking meter and only have two hours to explore**. We would have liked to have had longer time there, but we had a great time. The only UFO we found was the statue placed in a clearing, deep in the forest. We saw no odd lights and the trees are so thick, so close together that I don't see how mysterious lights drifting through them could have been mistaken for those of a light house. You'd be lucky to see lights from the coast at all. There were a few areas of the forest that seemed unnaturally quiet, which I found odd since it's breading season and birds are quite vocal when it comes to announcing their territory. However the rest of the forest was teeming with life. There's a well laid out and clearly marked UFO Trail that you can follow, compleat with information boards about what happened that night. Unlike Roswell you won't get arrested for taking photos. It even leads you past one of the bases, presumably RAF Bentwaters, which was handed back to the MoD in 1993 and is now no longer used. An interesting place, but not one accessible to the public. If you're interested in this story at all, or even just like a nice countryside walk, I would recommend a visit. It's a fascinating place.

What are your theories on the Rendlesham Forest incident? Have you an odd story of your own from the area? If so, you can tag me on Twitter using my Twitter handle or just drop a comment here on my blog. Don't be shy, I'd love to hear from you!

*The local police were called in to look at these indentations too, but claimed they were the footprints of some woodland creature. There are no creatures in Rendlesham forest that make footprints that shape or size, or are capable of burning trees.

**Oops.

Devils in the depths: the cannibals of Clovelly

 "Arms, legs, thighs, hands and feet, of men, women and children, hung up in rows, like dried beef and a great many lying in a pickle..."

I've always been fascinated by tales of the Wendigo, reading about these predatory and ever hungry spirits gives me chills, especially when reading about people's personal experiences. It makes me eternally grateful that we don't have them here in England. We just have a history of "normal" cannibalism. If you can call it normal.

I'm currently in Devon with friends, it's late at night and we're cosy and safe in our caravan. Outside storm Callum is pitching a fit. I choose to ignore that our caravan is very close to the edge of a cliff. It reminds me of a holiday a long time ago, when I was little, listening in horror and fascination as my Stepfather informed me that there were cannibals at the place we'd be visiting the next day. It isn't something found in the tourist leaflets for Clovelly but in books, the internet and word of mouth. An alleged story of local horrors, it seems that the tale is just a retelling of the story of Sawney Bean.* Unlike Sawney's story, this tale comes in the form of an eight page chapbook, with an unknown author. It's the only copy in existence and can be found in Bideford, another town in Devon. Smuggling was rife at the time, tall tales to keep people away from the smugglers hideouts were common, although this is the most gruesome I've heard so far.

Living in a coastal cave, along a rugged stretch of coast near Clovelly, they were lead by the patriarch, John Gregg. It isn't hard to guess why they lived there. For a poor family, with no money or home, any shelter would do. As for the attacks, those probably started as highway robberies, a way to make ends meet and stave off starvation for another week. However for some unknown reason, something changed. Maybe a robbery gone wrong, an ill-conceived way to hide bodies or maybe a harsh winter and starvation. We will never really know or understand why, but the family started to murder and eat people, going from "your money or your life" to "your money and your wife." They would ambush and attack their victims on the road, drag the bodies back to their lair and strip them of both valuables and flesh. Hidden in the cave with all the food they could ever need, the family itself grew and grew. It consisted of John, his wife, their fourteen children and a grand total of around 32 grandchildren. Because the family didn't leave their cave for anything other than a spot of murder, they grew more and more inbred and monstrous with each child born until they were barely recognisable as humans. If they had been real then it would have been a miracle that such a large and feral family wasn't caught sooner, yet the story tells us that they managed to vanish up to one thousand people in a twenty five year period and nobody outside that cave had a clue what was happening. A happy, safe, well fed family of monsters. After getting away with such abominable acts for so long they would have felt untouchable, so it's no surprise they got over confident. To put it bluntly, they cocked up.

Their downfall came in the form of a nameless couple traveling home on their horse one night. The Gregg's ambushed the couple, succeeding on dragging the wife from the back of the horse whilst the husband spurred the terrified beast on, making for the safety of the nearest town and leaving his poor wife behind to be savaged by the terrifying, ghoul like creatures that had crept from the shadows to set upon them. Fetching help, he headed back to where he was attacked with a group of curious townsfolk in tow, but nothing was found but the brutally mauled body of his late wife. Word of the incident quickly spread, a posse of four hundred men was formed, with a pack of baying bloodhounds for tracking. These dogs followed the scent of the family back to their underground lair, where the men that accompanied them were introduced to a subterranean world of horrors that rivaled any horror movie. Thousands of bones littered the cave, piled up in corners as if in some macabre attempt at housekeeping. Hung from the ceiling, like meat in a butchers window, were the limbs of more recent victims. Not one of them were spared, as even the remains of children could be seen swinging in the sea breeze coming through the entrance of the cave. Dark and lit by torchlight, echoing with the sound of excited bloodhounds and filled with the stench of death, it was a house of horrors. And there, in the middle of it all, preparing to put up a fight, were the Greggs. It was a good job that the men had come in such large numbers, a smaller group would have ended up in Ma Gregg's cooking pot along with their dogs for a bit of variety. After a bit of a scuffle, the men managed to drag the whole family out of their hole and into the light for all to see. From their the Greggs family were sent to Exeter to be trialed for their crimes, but all agreed that there was no need for that. No Judge in his right mind could possibly find John Gregg and his foul kin not guilty. The whole family was hung until dead. Even the poor, malformed and savage children. Because this story is more than often told word of mouth, another version states that they were instead burnt alive in three large fires. It's a short tale, but one that has crept so smoothly into folklore that many still believe it to be true, as I did as a child when my Stepfather told it to me so gleefully.

If one thousand people going missing over such a short amount of years with nobody questioning it wasn't proof enough that the tale is fictional, then the fact that there are no court records, newspaper clippings or even a burial sight is. It would be easy to say that maybe people just forgot, but there's no way that crimes as grotesque as those of the Greggs. The people of the 18th century were good at keeping records, you only have to look at Bodmin Jail for proof of the crimes of that era, or visit The Clink in London. Since executions were considered a form of entertainment, people would have flocked to see the end of ghoulish family, there would have been personal accounts from those involved. The burial sight alone would have been a tourist hot spot, both then and today. Although now they would probably charge you an entrance fee to visit it. There might not be records of cannibals, but there are records of smugglers. Folklore is rarely pleasant, usually stories such as this are meant to serve as a warning. The village of Clovelly is beautiful a joy to see and visit. The coast that surrounds it is wild and mysterious. In the days when people were more superstitious it wouldn't be too hard for people to believe such a tale. Keep away from the smuggler's cave would have just lead to arrests, possibly a few hangings. Easier to associate a tale of horror to that place, to warn people away with fear. And if folks go anyway and disappear? Well, you were warned. Maybe the Greggs are still hungry, even in death.

All photos taken by myself and owned, please do not use or re-dispute without asking permission.

*Alexander Bean, also known as Sawney Bean, was allegedly a man from 16th century Scotland. He and his forty eight member strong clan were said to have been responsible for around the same amount of murders over a similar time span to that of the Greggs, who's tale was told much later in the 18th century. The similarities between the two are obvious, though the Greggs story is set in a different location. As with the Greggs, there is no proof that Sawney existed, instead it's highly likely that he was created as an act of anti-Scottish proper gander.