Inside the World's Most Haunted Castles | True Ghost Stories

Jan 23

This week, we're exploring three of the world's most haunted castles—and the dark histories that made them that way. At Windsor Castle in England, we'll encounter the ghost of a beheaded king who appears whole. In Austria's Moosham Castle, we explore the only male dominated witch trials. And finally, we visit Himeji Castle in Japan to meet Okiku, the servant girl whose ghost inspired one of the most iconic images in horror.

TW: Mentions of possible s*icide, descriptions of t*rture

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TRANSCRIPT

Welcome to heart starts pounding, our LAST episode of 2025, I’m Kaelyn Moore and I’m here with our friendly ghost Jinx who is very excited for this episode. I wanted to do something both ghosty and cozy for the end of the year, so let’s sit by the fire and take this journey together.

Now we will be off next week, so that I can have a baby (we’ll see if that actually happens on time, if he’s anything like his mother he’ll probably be late) But we have some really great patreon content to catch up on if you’re looking for more. Last month we covered the mystery of the lost colony of Roanoke, how did 118 colonists vanish from the face of the earth 400 years ago? We’re also going to be doing our end of year episode where we recount our favorite episodes from the year and i can tell you about which episodes did best. And of course, there’s a free trial on patreon and apple podcasts if you want to do that.

But for now, sit back, relax, curl up by the fire–or if you’re in Australia or South America, maybe crank up the AC and pretend–and join me as we visit some ghosts.

Windsor Castle sits on a chalk cliff above the River Thames (temz) just west of London, and it's been watching over England for nearly a thousand years. William the Conqueror built it in 1070 as a fortress, but over the centuries it became something more - a royal palace, a home, a prison, and according to many who've worked and lived here, the most haunted royal residence in Britain.

The castle is basically laid out in three sections, all arranged around the massive Round Tower that dominates the skyline. If you're standing at the main entrance looking up at the castle, you've got the Lower Ward to your left, the Middle Ward where that iconic Round Tower sits, and the Upper Ward to your right where the State Apartments and the royal family's private quarters are located.

The whole complex covers about 13 acres and includes everything from medieval defensive walls to Victorian Gothic revival architecture. There's the Long Walk - this insanely long tree-lined avenue that stretches nearly three miles through Windsor Great Park. There are guard towers, gates, courtyards, endless corridors. It's massive and maze-like and absolutely gorgeous.

But for our tour, we're heading to the creepiest part of the castle, straight to the Lower Ward to St. Georges Chapel, the final resting place for British royalty.

St. George's Chapel sits at the western end of the Lower Ward, and when you first see it, it takes your breath away. It's this massive Gothic masterpiece built in the 1400s, with huge stained glass windows that flood the interior with colored light. The ceiling is this intricate fan vaulting that looks almost too delicate to support its own weight. And as you walk through it, dozens of bodies rest beneath you under the floor.

Eleven monarchs any many of their family members are buried here beneath the floor, including Queen Elizabeth II who was buried here in 2022.

That's a lot of history compressed into one building. And apparently, some of it hasn't left.

In 1813, a prince regent came to this chapel and demanded that a vault beneath the choir floor be opened. It was the tomb of Charles I, the king who was beheaded on February 7th, 1649. He was 48 years old, and the first - and only - English monarch to be legally executed by his own government.

Charles believed he ruled by divine right - that he answered to God alone, not Parliament. That belief sparked the English Civil War in 1642. After years of fighting and betrayal, he was brought to Windsor Castle as a prisoner where, just before Christmas in 1648, he was tried for treason and ultimately beheaded.

And as the prince regent started opening the Charle’s tomb, he thought about the supernatural occurrences surrounding Charles’ death. For one, as his body was being moved to St. George’s, A sudden and violent snowstorm swept across the castle grounds. Thick, heavy flakes of snow nearly blinded the few mourners, and when it finally slowed down, they saw The black velvet pall covering his coffin had been transformed to snow white.

The mourners saw the transformation as a sign–divine proof of their king wasn’t a traitor.

But even more surprising was the sightings of the king that occurred after his death.

There were Whispers around the castle of Charle’s specter being seen in the Canons house and walking through the Canon’s Cloister. The castle staff would call out to the king, but he’d just keep walking towards some unknown destination, his eyes open and unemotional. His head, fully attached to his neck.

And now, the prince regent wanted to see for himself. Was the kings head attached to his body in death, even after being beheaded.

Slowly, the tomb was opened, and the cloth Charles was buried in was peeled away. A horrid stench filled the air.

But there, even after over 150 years, it was obvious that Charle’s head was still attached to his body, marks on his neck showed that someone had stitched it back on, though you could still see the outline of where the blade made a clean cut.

But Charles is not the only royal buried beneath the Chapel who is said to still haunt the grounds of windsor Castle. In fact, he’s buried right next to Henry VIII

Staff at Windsor Castle say You hear Henry before you see him - heavy footsteps echoing through the Dean's Cloister, then a dragging sound said to be from his ulcerated leg. This is usually accompanied by sounds of moaning in agony.

The staff don’t seem that worried though that Henry VIII stalks the grounds in perpetual pain, however, the guy was a total nightmare while he was alive.

He went through six wives - divorced two, beheaded two, one died in childbirth, and one outlived him. He broke England away from the Catholic Church because the Pope wouldn't give him a divorce from his first wife, Catherine of Aragon. He basically created the Church of England just so he could marry Anne Boleyn, who he had been obsessed with for years. And then three years later, he had her beheaded on charges of adultery and treason that were almost certainly fabricated.

And so, if you’re walking the castle and you hear that moan, and that leg being dragged behind him, you may want to run. But be careful, because Henry isn’t the only vengeful and unstable king that haunts the grounds. In fact, not far from where henry is typically seen, the ghost of the Mad King himself can be found…

Elizabeth Cut George III is sometimes called the king who lost America. He’s more often called "Mad King George."

For the first 50 years of his life, this “mad king” wasn’t so mad. he was known as a devoted husband, a loving father to 15 children, and a genuinely good king who cared about his people. He was scholarly, interested in science and agriculture. They called him "Farmer George" because he actually enjoyed talking to common people about crops and livestock.

But something changed in him in 1788, when he was 50 years old. He started having episodes - violent outbursts, racing thoughts, talking for hours without stopping. His urine turned blue. He'd have these attacks of severe abdominal pain. His skin would become sensitive to light. During his worst episodes, he couldn't recognize his own wife and children.

For over 200 years, doctors believed George III had what’s known as porphyria - a rare genetic disorder that affects the nervous system and can cause psychological symptoms along with physical ones. The blue urine, the abdominal pain, the mental disturbances - they all fit. But more recent researchers have questioned this diagnosis, suggesting he might have had bipolar disorder or some other psychiatric condition. We'll probably never know for sure.

What we do know is that by 1810, George III was completely incapacitated. He was blind, he was deaf, and he spent his final years - almost a decade - confined to rooms in Windsor Castle, often restrained in a straitjacket, sometimes not recognizing where he was. His son ruled while George lived out his last years in darkness and confusion.

But it was said he’d have these lucid periods once a day, where he would stand at his window every day and watch the guards parade past. He may not have known where he was, or even who his children were, but when he heard the guards march past his window he knew that he had once been king. Every day he would stand in that window and return their salute.

After George III died in January 1820, while his body still lay in state, the guards were marching past his window when the commanding officer saw the unmistakable figure of the king standing in his customary place. Instinctively, he ordered his soldiers to face the king, and As they turned, every single one of them saw the king standing there. And they watched as he returned their salute one final time.

Multiple witnesses. The entire guard unit. All seeing the same thing - a king who loved his troops so much that not even death could keep him from honoring them one last time.

People still see him at that window, looking longingly out, maintaining his post even now. And honestly? After everything he went through, after all those years of confusion and darkness, maybe it's a comfort that his ghost appears lucid, dignified, doing the thing that gave him purpose.

Now, all of the ghosts we’ve talked about so far have been of real royalty that has lived in the castle, but according to some legends, not everything that haunts the grounds is human.

For our final stop, we need to leave the castle itself and venture into Windsor Great Park. Because this is where something dark stalks the woods, something unexplainable.

The legend goes back to the reign of Richard II in the late 1300s. Herne (like Fern) was a royal huntsman, one of the best, and a favorite of the king. One day during a hunt, a cornered white stag attacked Richard II. Herne threw himself between the stag and the king, causing the beast to attack him to the brink of death, but ultimately saving Richard’s life

As Herne lay on the ground coming in and out of consciousness, A mysterious dark figure appeared - some say it was wizard, others say the Devil himself - and offered to save Herne's life. He cut off the stag's antlers and tied them to Herne's head. Herne survived, but after this supernatural encounter, he lost his ability to hunt.

When other huntsmen witness Herne coming back to the castle with stag horns tied to him, they accused him of poaching. Herne tried to explain to them what happened, about the strange, shadowy figure who approached him and helped him, but no one believed his story. Eventually, the huntsmen were even able to convince the Richard II of the poaching scandal, who dismissed him from his duties. This caused Herne to spiral, and he went into Windsor Forest and hanged himself from a great oak tree.

But that's not the end. After his death, The huntsmen who framed him also lost their abilities to hunt. Every trap they set, every arrow they shot missed. In desperation, they sought out the mysterious figure Herne had told them about for help.

He appeared to them, and he told them to meet at the oak tree at midnight. The very same oak tree when Herne died. There, Herne's ghost appeared wearing the stag's antlers, and the next morning, those huntsmen were found hanged from the same tree, their faces contorted in terror.

Ever since, people have seen Herne in Windsor Great Park - a figure with massive antlers riding a phantom black horse, accompanied by spectral hounds, rattling chains. He appears during winter storms, at midnight, and legend says his appearance signals national disasters or warns that a monarch is near death.

The legend spread so far and wide that Shakespeare wrote about Herne in "The Merry Wives of Windsor" in 1597, describing how he "doth all the winter-time, at still midnight, walk round about an oak."

But sightings have continued closer to present day. In 1962, some Eton schoolboys found an old hunting horn in Windsor Great Park and blew it. According to them, Herne and his spectral huntsmen appeared, riding through the trees toward them. The boys fled in terror. In 1976, a guardsman reported seeing a statue in the Italian Garden come to life and grow antlers like Herne.

The original Herne's Oak - over 600 years old at the time - fell in 1836. The logs were burned in the castle fireplace, supposedly to kill the ghost. But it didn't work. A replacement tree now stands on the spot, and people still hear hunting horns in the dead of night and see a shadowy antlered figure in the mist.

Windsor Castle is still very much a working royal residence. The Royal Family knows about the ghosts - they've seen them, after all. Prince William reportedly said when warned about ghosts before moving in, "No old hall would be complete without a ghost, would it?"

Maybe that's the thing about Windsor. It's not just haunted by the past - it's still living with it. A thousand years of history doesn't just fade away. Sometimes it rides through the park on winter nights. Sometimes it returns a salute one last time, or checks on the library books, or maybe argues with a long dead spouse or two whose deaths it engineered.

Or in the case of our next castle, it might have more sinister intentions.

This next castle sits Perched at over 3,500 feet in the remote Lungau region just south of Salzburg. And if you were to tour it, you’d find an unusual and morbid feature.

In the courtyard between two castle sections sits a fifty-meter deep well, an entry point into the deep belly of the castle that sits below ground. The dungeons.

These dungeons have no windows, no natural light comes through. The torture chamber down there—still visible to visitors today—contains some of the original instruments from the 17th century. And if you take the narrow stone staircase down to the cells where prisoners waited, the acoustics create something unnatural. Footsteps echo. Voices carry. Even breathing seems amplified. And according to many tourists, you may here the sound of echoey screams coming from down a long, stone hallway.

The castle remembers what happened in those rooms. And what happened there between 1675 and 1690 was one of the most unusual and horrific witch hunts in European history.

This is Moosham (moose-hum) Castle, and it is what's called a spur castle—built on a narrow ridge of rock jutting out from the mountains, surrounded by thick alpine forests. It was first documented in 1191 when it belonged to the noble Moosheim (moose-hum) family, though some believe it sits on the foundations of a Roman fortress. In 1285, the Prince-Archbishops of Salzburg seized the castle after accusing the Moosheims(moose-hum) of disloyalty, and it remained under church control for the next five centuries.

The architecture itself feels designed to intimidate. Massive stone walls. Gothic turrets rising against the mountain sky. Narrow defensive windows. Inside, the castle splits into two sections—the older Lower Castle housed the courtrooms and dungeons, while the Upper Castle contained grand halls where church officials administered justice over the entire Lungau region. See, Starting in 1520, Moosham (moose-hum) became the judicial center for this part of Austria, which meant every aspect of the justice system happened here: trials, imprisonment, torture, and execution. And years after it opened, a mass hysteria would sweep the country side, landing thousands within these walls. Witch trials.

It began with a single arrest in 1675. A woman named Barbara Kollerin worked in the animal slaughter trade near Salzburg—a profession that placed her firmly at the bottom of society's hierarchy. One day, when Barbara arrived at work, she saw the authorities there waiting for her. She was told that offertory box from a church in Golling had gone missing, and that she was the most likely suspect.

Now Barbara had no idea what these officers were talking about, but they still grabbed her by the wrists and dragged her down to the dungeons at Moose hum castle. She was arrested on suspicion of both theft but also…. Witchcraft.

What happened next was horrifyingly routine for witch trials of that era. Barbara was tortured in the Castle dungeons—her hands were tied behind her back and A rope was attached to her wrists and thrown over a pulley or beam in the ceiling. From there, she was hoisted up into the air, suspended by her arms behind her. This was so her own body weight would dislocate her shoulders or they could be dropped or have weights added to increase the effect.

Her thumbs were crushed by metal bars, burning irons were pressed into her skin. Eventually, Barbara just couldnt take it anymore. She begged for death but the prison guards weren’t so kind. And so, not knowing what else she could do, she confessed. She admitted that yes, she was witch, just please stop the torture

But that wasn’t enough for the interrogators. Tell us who helped you, they demanded and they crushed her thumbs harder until you could hear the bones breaking. That’s when Barbara said something that would eventually doom 139 people to death: she told them her twenty-year-old son, Paul Jacob Koller, had made a pact with Satan And then, she was burned alive at the stake in August 1675.

Her son Jacob—nicknamed "Jackl" or Wizard Jackl—immediately became the most wanted man in Salzburg. Authorities issued a warrant for his arrest, continually increasing the reward for turning him in, but he was always able to avoid being captured

The authorities started arresting every homeless boy on the street to interrogate them. One of them must have seen Jacob, even though reports in 1677 claimed he'd died. but then a twelve-year-old homeless boy named Feldner was arrested and, under the same torture Barbara endured, he caved. And he claimed he'd seen Jackl just three weeks earlier. Doing what? The guard asked, pulling Feldner up by a rope until his shoulders dislocated from his sockets. The boy cried out in pain, and said that Jackl was the leader of gangs of beggar children, and he had seen him teaching the kids his black magic.

That single confession triggered a fifteen-year reign of terror. Every single beggar child was pulled off the street and dragged into the torture chambers at Moosehum. There were all accused them of being taught the devils magic. Then they were tortured, their bones crushed and dislocated until they named other children, and finally they were executed.

Now typical European witch hunts, about 75% of victims were women—usually elderly, usually poor, usually operating outside acceptable social norms. But the Salzburg trials completely reversed those numbers. Of the 139 people executed at Moosham Castle between 1675 and 1690, 81% were men and boys. And the age breakdown is even more disturbing: 39 victims were children between ten and fourteen years old. Another 53 were teenagers and young adults between fifteen and twenty-one. All but two of the 139 executed were homeless.

And the saddest part is, that was by design. No wealthy aristocrats were accused of witchcraft, just the beggars the government wanted off of the street anyways…

See, years earlier The Thirty Years' War had occurred—a war from 1618 to 1648 that combined religious warfare, dynastic struggles, and territorial ambitions—had killed somewhere between five and eight million people across the Holy Roman Empire. Some regions lost two-thirds of their population. The war created unprecedented numbers of orphans. By the 1670s, groups of homeless teenagers were highly visible throughout Salzburg. Authorities felt these boys were too aggressive in their begging, and that They represented visible proof that times were bad and that leadership was failing.

So The narrative that was built around Jackl and his black magic provided the perfect justification for eliminating this "problem" population. As each new child was arrested and tortured, the mythology grew. Under interrogation, the accused confessed that Jackl was influencing them. He could make himself invisible, could turn blocks of wood into mice, could transform into a wolf, could enchant rats to ruin harvests. The transcripts from Moosham's trials—preserved in Salzburg's archives—show that interrogators carefully "guided" these confessions, using the children's imaginations to create an ever-more-fantastical legend of Jackl as an all-powerful sorcerer.

For those who confessed or were convicted, the executions were public spectacles. Children under fourteen often had their hands cut off and were branded with burning irons, then paraded through Salzburg's streets as warnings before being burned alive. Teenagers and adults were sometimes granted the "mercy" of being hanged or decapitated before their bodies were burned, but many—especially the youngest—were burned alive at the stake. The peak came in 1681, when 109 people were executed in a single year.

The trials finally ended in 1690. By then, the hysteria had simply exhausted itself. Jackl had never been found, which gradually undermined the entire narrative. The circle of persecution had widened so far—children, teenagers, anyone poor or homeless—that it disrupted normal social functioning. Across Europe, skepticism about witchcraft accusations was growing. The Roman Inquisition had acknowledged as early as 1635 that it had "found scarcely one trial conducted legally."

And then, 100 years after the torture ended, in 1790, the castle fell into decay. And that’s when something strange happened. In the 1790s, deer and cattle started turning up dead on the castle grounds, torn apart by something.

Locals immediately blamed the remaining castle residents, horrors had occurred on the grounds all those years ago, the devil must not have left. And it tainted those who remained. They accusing the residents of being werewolves. A mob stormed the castled and murdered everyone living on the grounds in the courtyard. After that, The castle was abandoned until 1886.

Today, Moosham Castle is owned by the descendants of a Count who purchased the ruins and restored them. You can tour the castle, if you dare, and see the replica torture chamber, stand in the dungeons where kids as young as 10 waited to be interrogated, and then you can walk through the courtrooms where their fates were decided. The executioner's sword is on display. So are some of the original torture implements.

And if you believe the stories, the ones that come from locals and tourists alike who have toured the grounds, those child victims never really left. Visitors report hearing footsteps echoing in empty hallways, only to turn and see no one is there. There’s also the near constant sounds of chains dragging across stone floors, and sudden cold spots even in summer.

The torture chamber in particular is where most of the activity is—people say they feel touched by unseen hands, watched by invisible eyes. The most common apparition is a young woman in white who wanders the corridors, moaning, disappearing when approached. It may very well be Barbara, cursed to wander the grounds for all of eternity for her part in starting the witch trials.

On quiet nights, locals say you can still hear screams echoing from the mountain where 139 people met horrific deaths for the crime of being young, poor, homeless, and in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The phantom Jackl was never caught. But his legacy—a cautionary tale about how fear, prejudice, and crisis can combine into lethal persecution of the most vulnerable—still haunts the stone walls of Moosham today.

Now, our next haunted castle also sparked legends that continue to haunt, not only its walls but the nightmares of millions–maybe even your own.

Picture this: It's nightfall at Himeji Castle in feudal Japan. The last rays of sunlight disappear behind the castle's brilliant white walls, and darkness creeps through the stone corridors. A young page named Morita Zusho stands at the base of the main keep, clutching a paper lantern in his trembling hand. His friends have dared him to prove whether the rumors are true—whether something supernatural really lives at the top of the castle tower.

Zusho begins his ascent. The wooden stairs creak beneath his feet. His lantern casts dancing shadows on the walls as he climbs higher and higher, past the first floor, the second, the third. The castle seems to close in around him. His heart pounds so loud he can hear it echoing in the empty chambers.

Finally, he reaches the sixth floor—the very top of the keep. And that's when he sees it: a faint light emanating from a door in the attic. Someone—or something—is up there.

Before he can turn back, a woman's voice cuts through the darkness: "Who's there!?" Zusho freezes. He hears the distinctive rustle of silk, the whisper of fabric moving. The door slides open slowly, revealing not the ancient crone everyone whispered about, but an elegant woman in her thirties wearing an elaborate twelve-layered ceremonial kimono that marks her as someone of extraordinary rank.

This is Osakabe Hime (osakah-bay Hee-may) —the Lady of the Walls. A powerful yōkai who has haunted the uppermost floors of Himeji Castle for centuries. She despises humans, only emerging once a year to meet with the castle lord and foretell the castle's fate. Legend says she can read your heart and manipulate you like a puppet. And anyone who sees her face dies instantly.

But tonight, amused by Zusho's honesty and bravery, she doesn't kill him. Instead, she hands him proof of their encounter: a piece of his own master's family armor—a shikorobuki neck guard that should have been safely locked away elsewhere in the castle. "You'll need proof that you actually saw me," she says, her voice carrying centuries of knowledge and power.

The next day, when Zusho presents the heirloom to his stunned master, everyone realizes the impossible has happened. He met the spirit at the top of the tower and lived to tell the tale.

This is one of the most famous stories from one of Japan’s most famous haunted castles.

Himeji Castle—called "White Heron Castle" because its brilliant white walls make it look like a bird taking flight—sits about an hour west of Osaka in Japan's Hyōgo Prefecture. Built between 1333 and 1609, it's widely considered the finest surviving example of Japanese castle architecture. UNESCO recognized it as a World Heritage Site in 1993, and for good reason: this place is massive. The complex contains 83 buildings connected by a maze of defensive passages designed to confuse and slow attackers.

The main keep rises 152 feet into the air, appearing to have five stories from the outside but actually containing six floors plus a basement—a deceptive design meant to throw off enemies. Those upper floors are sparse, with narrow staircases connecting bare wooden rooms. The sixth floor, where Osakabe Hime dwells, contains only 115 square meters and a small shrine built specifically to appease her after mysterious illnesses plagued the castle lords who displaced her mountain shrine during construction.

The castle has survived almost 700 years of wars, natural disasters, and even World War II. During the bombing of Himeji in 1945, a firebomb landed directly on the top floor but failed to explode. The castle stood while the city around it burned. Some say it's luck. Others whisper that Osakabe Hime protects her domain.

But the Lady of the Walls isn't the only ghost said to haunt Himeji Castle and she’s certainly not the most famous, at least outside of Japan. There's another spirit here, one whose story is even more tragic.

Okiku was a beautiful young servant who worked at Himeji Castle during Japan's feudal era, probably around the 1520s. Her job was to wash dishes and care for the household's most precious possessions—including a set of ten valuable decorative plates, heirlooms that had been passed down through generations.

A samurai named Aoyama Tetsuzan became infatuated with Okiku, proposing again and again that she become his mistress. Each time, Okiku refused. She would not compromise her honor, no matter who asked.

Aoyama's patience ran out. If she wouldn't submit willingly, he would force her hand. So he devised a cruel plan: he secretly stole one of the ten precious plates and hid it away. The next day, he summoned Okiku and told her one of the master's plates was missing.

Okiku's blood ran cold. Losing a family heirloom was punishable by death. With trembling hands, she opened the box and began to count: "Ichi... ni... san... shi... go... roku... shichi... hachi... ku..." One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. She counted again. And again. Always nine plates. Never ten.

Tears streamed down her face. Aoyama watched her panic, then leaned close with his offer: "I could overlook this matter. I could tell the master it wasn't your fault. But only if you finally become my lover."

Even facing execution, Okiku refused.

So Aoyama took her punishment upon himself. He had her beaten with wooden swords, then bound with ropes and dragged to the deep castle well. There, they suspended her over the dark opening and began lowering her into the freezing water, plunging her into the depths until her lungs burned and consciousness began to fade. Then they hauled her back up, and Aoyama himself beat her again with his wooden sword. Down into the well. Up. Down. Up. Each time demanding she submit to him. Each time, she refused.

Finally, in a rage, Aoyama released the ropes. Okiku's broken body plummeted into the well's depths. The water closed over her, and she was gone.

But death wasn't the end of Okiku's story.

Not long after, strange things began happening at the castle. At night, when darkness fell, those near the well would hear a woman's voice echoing up from the depths, counting. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.

Okiku's ghost had returned. She would rise from the well—a pale, dripping figure in white with long black hair hanging in wet tangles over her face—and search for the missing plate. Every night, she counted. And when she reached nine, unable to find the tenth plate, she would let out a blood-curdling shriek that echoed throughout the entire castle before vanishing back into the well.

Anyone who heard even a part of Okiku's counting was cursed and became severely ill. But those who heard her count all the way to nine? They would die.

Night after night, Okiku’s ghost tormented Aoyama. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't escape that voice: counting over and over and over. Some versions of the story say she drove him to complete madness.

Eventually, the castle lord summoned a Buddhist priest to deal with the haunting. The priest prepared himself with prayer and meditation, then positioned himself in the garden near the well as darkness fell. He began chanting sutras, and he waited.

At midnight, she appeared. Okiku's ghost rose from the well and began her eternal count: "Ichi... ni... san... shi... go... roku... shichi... hachi... ku..."

The instant Okiku reached nine and opened her mouth to scream, he shouted at the top of his lungs: "JŪ!" (TEN!)

Okiku's ghost froze. The scream died on her lips. Relief washed over her spectral features—someone had finally found the tenth plate. She smiled, and then faded away like morning mist. From that night on, Okiku never haunted the castle again.

Or did she? Some versions insist the exorcism didn't work, that Okiku still rises from the well every night when the castle closes, still counting, still screaming, still searching for justice that never came.

The well exists today. You can visit it. Tourists gather around the metal grating, peering down into the darkness, wondering if they might hear something from below. And locals will tell you that when the castle closes at night, you can still hear Okiku's voice echoing up from the depths.

If this story sounds familiar—a girl with long black hair who died in a well, rising as a vengeful spirit in a white burial garment—that's because you've absolutely seen her before. Not in feudal Japan but crawling out of a television screen.

Okiku's story was the direct inspiration for the 1998 Japanese Film Ringu, known in English as The Ring, based on Koji Suzuki's 1991 novel. Sadako—or Samara Morgan in the 2002 American remake—is essentially Okiku transported to the modern age, her curse spreading not through castle corridors but through videotapes and television screens.

Okiku's well still sits at Himeji Castle, covered with iron bars. The castle survived wars, earthquakes, and firebombs. And somewhere in the darkness below, if the legends are true, a voice still counts: "Ichi... ni... san... shi... go... roku... shichi... hachi... ku..."

Just pray you never hear it.

That’s all for this week, and this year. Do you have any haunted places you want us to visit on the show?

We will be back on Wednesday, January 14th with a really twisty murder mystery set in the mountains–specifically, one of–maybe THE richest mountain town in the United States. And this is not a story I’ve seen covered a lot so I’m excited to share it.

And again, You can catch up on all of the great monthly bonus episodes, archived episodes and more, all for FREE with a trail which is always nice this time of year after Christmas shopping and holiday travel. Links are in the description.

I am super excited for next year. We’ve got some fun stuff coming. Let me know in the comments. Until next year, Stay Curious.

Kaelyn Moore

Inside the World's Most Haunted Castles | True Ghost Stories

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