Somerset is a county shaped by belief, conflict, rebellion and long-held tradition. Beneath its picturesque towns and familiar landmarks lies a past marked by unrest, superstition and moments that left lasting impressions on the landscape and the people who lived through them. From medieval power struggles and religious upheaval to witch trials, public executions and civil war, Somerset’s history is deeply intertwined with fear, faith and consequence.
Many of these events unfolded in public spaces — market squares, courts, churches and castles — places that still stand today. Over centuries, stories have gathered around these locations: accounts of unexplained sights, sounds and encounters that refuse to fade quietly into history. Whether rooted in folklore, documented testimony or repeated personal experience, these stories form a darker narrative that runs alongside the county’s official past.
This section explores the history and hauntings of Somerset’s towns, focusing on the themes and events that continue to define their character — and the stories that still linger where they happened.

As the historic county town of Somerset, Taunton has long stood at the centre of power, justice and conflict. From its early Saxon roots to its role in rebellion, warfare and law, Taunton’s streets have witnessed moments that shaped the wider region — often with brutal consequences.
Taunton Castle dominates much of this history. Over centuries it served as a fortress, a royal residence, a prison and a courthouse. It was here that justice was delivered, dissent was punished and lives were altered forever. Unsurprisingly, many of Taunton’s most enduring ghost stories are tied to these periods of unrest, belief and execution.
The town’s haunted reputation is built not on fiction, but on a past filled with accusation, punishment and survival — themes that continue to echo through its historic streets..
Taunton played a significant role in Somerset’s history of witchcraft trials, particularly during the 16th and 17th centuries when fear and superstition shaped the justice system. The Assizes held at Taunton Castle heard numerous accusations, often brought against society’s most vulnerable — beggars, outsiders and those considered troublesome by their neighbours.
Cases such as that of Julian Cox highlight how easily misfortune, illness or unexplained events could be blamed on alleged witchcraft. Testimonies given against the accused were frequently contradictory or fantastical, yet convictions followed all the same. Once accused, few had any chance of escape.
These trials left a lasting mark on the town’s reputation. Stories of injustice, fear and condemnation still surround the castle and court areas, forming a key part of Taunton’s darker historical identity.
Taunton’s strategic importance made it a focal point during periods of conflict, particularly throughout the English Civil War and the Monmouth Rebellion. The town changed hands multiple times, endured sieges, and suffered widespread destruction as opposing forces fought for control.
In 1685, Taunton became a stronghold for the Duke of Monmouth, whose failed rebellion against King James II ended in disaster at the Battle of Sedgemoor. The town’s support for Monmouth was remembered — and punished — by the Crown. Taunton Castle became a place of imprisonment for hundreds, many held before facing trial or execution.
These events left physical scars on the town and emotional scars on its history. Accounts of unrest, violence and betrayal still underpin many of Taunton’s reported paranormal experiences today.
Perhaps the most infamous chapter in Taunton’s history came in the aftermath of the Monmouth Rebellion, when Judge Jeffreys presided over the Bloody Assizes at Taunton Castle. Hundreds were tried in rapid succession, many sentenced to death or transportation. Executions took place publicly, leaving lasting impressions on those who witnessed them.
Judge Jeffreys himself has become one of Taunton’s most frequently reported apparitions, with sightings and strange experiences said to occur within the castle and surrounding buildings. Reports include unexplained footsteps, shadowy figures and sensations linked to fear or restraint.
The legacy of the Bloody Assizes remains one of the darkest in Taunton’s past — a period where justice was swift, mercy was rare, and the consequences continue to echo through history and legend alike.

As one of Somerset’s most important historic inland ports, Bridgwater grew around the tidal River Parrett, linking the town directly to the outside world. Trade, industry and movement brought prosperity, but they also brought overcrowding, poverty, disease and unrest.
Unlike towns defined by courts or castles alone, Bridgwater’s darker history unfolded in its burial grounds, riverbanks and streets, where everyday life was often lived under extreme pressure.
Over centuries, the town became a place shaped by survival and resistance. From plague outbreaks and industrial hardship to rebellion and moral defiance, Bridgwater’s history left deep scars on the landscape and the people who lived there — scars that many believe still linger.
For generations, Bridgwater struggled to contain its dead. Churchyards such as St Mary’s became so overcrowded that bones lay just beneath the surface, uncovered whenever new graves were dug. Accounts describe skulls, coffins and partially decomposed remains being disturbed regularly, the result of rapid burial practices during times of plague, cholera and poverty.
Gravediggers worked quickly, often reusing ground long before bodies had fully decomposed. Unearthed bones were cast aside or moved to charnel houses, worsening sanitation and helping disease to spread. Beyond churchyards, victims of epidemics were buried in gardens, yards and unconsecrated ground beneath streets that still exist today.
These forgotten burial places form one of Bridgwater’s darkest legacies. Reports of kneeling figures, unease around churchyards and unexplained presences are often linked to the town’s long history of overcrowded graves and disturbed remains.
Bridgwater’s position on the River Parrett made it a vital inland port, but it also exposed the town to constant danger. The extreme tidal range of the Bristol Channel left ships vulnerable to grounding or capsizing, while limited unloading windows created urgency, risk and frequent accidents.
Trade flourished alongside smuggling, with goods secretly offloaded along the riverbanks to avoid taxes. Underground voids and passages uncovered across the town have long fuelled speculation about hidden routes leading back to the river, used to conceal contraband or move goods unseen.
Figures wrapped in grey cloaks have been reported near remnants of the medieval friary and along ancient streets connected to the port. Whether tied to displaced monks, smugglers or something older, these sightings reinforce the idea that Bridgwater’s connection to the river brought not just wealth, but lasting unrest.
Life in Bridgwater could be brutal for those who fell on hard times. Workhouses and almshouses were places of punishment rather than refuge, where overcrowding, forced labour and disease claimed countless lives. Under harsh poor laws, poverty itself became a crime, and many who died inside were denied proper burial.
Bridgwater also paid a heavy price for rebellion. In the aftermath of uprisings such as the Monmouth Rebellion, families were torn apart, with locals executed, imprisoned or transported overseas into lives of forced labour. These experiences left a powerful imprint on the town’s collective memory.
Perhaps for this reason, Bridgwater later became the first English town to petition Parliament for the abolition of the slave trade. Having witnessed the consequences of displacement and bondage, its people understood the cost of injustice — a legacy of defiance that still defines the town’s haunted character.

Few places in Somerset — or England — carry the weight of myth and mystery quite like Glastonbury. Long before it became a destination for pilgrims, seekers and storytellers, the town stood as a powerful spiritual centre shaped by early Christianity, monastic life and far older beliefs rooted in the landscape itself.
Glastonbury’s history cannot be separated from legend. Saints and sinners, monks and kings, sacred wells and winding tunnels all form part of a town where history and folklore overlap so closely that the boundary between them often disappears. It is this blending of belief and place that gives Glastonbury its enduring, and often unsettling, atmosphere.
Standing in the heart of the town, the George & Pilgrims Inn holds a unique place in English history. Built in the late 15th century to accommodate pilgrims visiting the abbey, it is widely regarded as England’s only surviving pre-Reformation inn — a rare building that bridges medieval faith and modern hospitality.
Despite the Dissolution of the Monasteries, the inn survived, later displaying carved royal arms of King Edward VI, a subtle reminder of the turbulent religious changes that reshaped the town. Inside, heavy timbers, stone floors and narrow passages preserve the feel of a building that has witnessed centuries of devotion, upheaval and quiet secrets.
The inn is also said to be haunted by a monk whose forbidden love ended in heartbreak. Guests and staff have reported footsteps on empty stairs, doors opening unaided and the presence of a sorrowful figure believed to wander the building, forever tied to a love that could never be fulfilled.
At the spiritual heart of Glastonbury stand the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey, once one of the richest and most powerful monasteries in England. For centuries it attracted pilgrims from across Europe, its wealth matched only by the influence it held over the surrounding town.
Following its destruction during the Dissolution, stories began to circulate of ghostly monks moving through the ruins — silent figures, chanting voices and shadowy shapes seen at dusk or after dark. Many believe these apparitions reflect the violent end of monastic life here, when faith was abruptly torn from the landscape.
Adding to the mystery are long-standing beliefs in underground tunnels beneath Glastonbury, thought to date back to the monastic period. While some may have served practical purposes, others are said to link the abbey with key locations across the town. Their true extent remains unknown, but they continue to fuel speculation that Glastonbury’s sacred past still lies hidden beneath its streets.
Glastonbury is inseparable from myth. The soaring presence of Glastonbury Tor has long been associated with the otherworld — a place where folklore, spirituality and geography converge. Legends connect the Tor to Avalon, the realm said to be the final resting place of King Arthur, blurring history and myth into a single narrative.
Stories of saints, visions and sacred springs sit alongside older beliefs tied to ley lines and ancient energy routes said to cross the landscape. For some, Glastonbury is a spiritual crossroads; for others, it is simply a place where stories have gathered for so long that they have become embedded in the land itself.
Whether shaped by early Christianity, medieval myth or far older traditions, Glastonbury remains an ancient space with a powerful atmosphere — one where legends endure, and where the unseen feels unusually close to the surface.