Glastonbury is a place steeped in stories -some ancient, some whispered more recently, but all tangled in that strange mist that seems to cling to the Somerset hills. Its streets and surrounding countryside carry the weight of myth, legend, and an uncanny energy that has drawn pilgrims, seekers, and ghost hunters for centuries. Whether you’re inclined to believe in spirits or not, there’s no denying that Glastonbury has a presence – a feeling that something just beneath the surface is waiting to be uncovered.

The most enduring tales begin, as many do in Britain, with King Arthur. Glastonbury Abbey claims to be the final resting place of Arthur and Guinevere, with monks in the 12th century claiming to have unearthed their bones beneath a marked cross. Whether it was a medieval marketing ploy or something more mysterious, the legend took root. Visitors to the Abbey have since reported fleeting shadows, murmured voices among the ruins, and the sensation of being watched while walking through the broken arches and overgrown graves. Some claim that the spirits of monks still drift through the site, particularly at twilight, and one figure – hooded and silent – is said to appear only when the abbey is completely deserted.

Then there’s the Tor, rising above the landscape like a sentinel. It’s impossible to look at it without feeling that it means something. The tower atop it, the ruined shell of St Michael’s Church, has survived lightning strikes and landslides, but it’s the hill itself that seems most alive. Folklore clings to it like ivy. It’s said to be the entrance to the Isle of Avalon, the legendary resting place of Arthur, and others have linked it to the ancient British underworld, Annwn.

In some tellings, it’s a place where the veil between the worlds thins, especially around Samhain. Local stories speak of glowing lights weaving in and out of the mist, of animal shapes that vanish upon closer approach, and of hearing music with no clear source – pipes, harps, the soft trill of singing, all rising from the grass-covered slopes.

Paranormal investigators who’ve camped on the Tor report equipment failing mysteriously, batteries drained, and cold spots appearing on warm nights. There are stories of people vanishing temporarily – losing hours without explanation – only to reappear disoriented and shaken. Though sceptics roll their eyes, those who’ve experienced it carry a look in their eyes that’s hard to dismiss.

Chalice Well, nestled at the base of the Tor, is another place where the spiritual and the spectral seem to meet. The waters that run red with iron have been considered sacred for centuries – linked to the Holy Grail, to healing, and to the feminine divine. People often speak of feeling overwhelming peace there, but others have felt watched. Some say they’ve glimpsed a white lady near the wellhead, vanishing into thin air.

On quiet days, there’s a stillness in the air that can feel holy – or heavy, depending on your state of mind.

Around the town itself, the ghost stories are no less rich. Glastonbury’s inns and old houses are full of creaks and sighs. The George and Pilgrims Inn, dating back to the 15th century, is one of the most famously haunted. Staff have seen figures in period clothing wandering corridors, doors open and close without explanation, and the upper rooms are often described as “active.” One former innkeeper reportedly left after seeing a man in a monk’s habit standing by his bed in the middle of the night, unmoving and silent. Guests have felt pressure on the bed beside them, the sensation of someone climbing in, only to find no one there.

Further out in the countryside, the levels and marshes bring their own unsettling tales. Will-o’-the-wisps – those flickering lights that lure travellers off safe paths – are still reported by locals who refuse to walk the moors after dark. There are tales of spectral hounds seen racing across the fields at night, glowing red eyes and breath visible in the cold. Some think they’re tied to ancient British gods, others say they’re the restless guardians of buried treasure – or bones.

What makes Glastonbury different from so many other “haunted” places is that the paranormal here doesn’t always feel malevolent. There’s something older, weirder, harder to explain. It’s as if the town exists in layers – history, myth, and something stranger still, all resting on top of each other. People often arrive looking for answers, and some leave with more questions than they came with. Others leave a piece of themselves behind, caught up in the magic, or the mystery, or the murmur of voices just out of earshot.

Whatever you believe, Glastonbury lingers. It holds onto things – people, stories, dreams – and maybe even ghosts.