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El catálogo completo de lugares aprobados. Ordénalo por valoración, novedad o debate, y acótalo por categoría.
48 lugares
Fuerte de Bhangarh
Las ruinas de una ciudad india del siglo XVII, declarada oficialmente por el Servicio Arqueológico de la India el lugar más embrujado del país: la entrada está prohibida después de la puesta de sol.
The Black Lady of Nesvizh Castle
Belarus's best-known ghost is Barbara Radziwiłł, the Polish queen who died in 1551 at twenty-nine. The story goes that her husband Sigismund Augustus was so undone by her death that he had her spirit summoned; the rite went wrong, and she has walked the galleries of the family castle at Nesvizh ever since. The castle is real and on the UNESCO list, tours run daily, and the Black Lady is the one exhibit that does not appear in the museum inventory.
The White Caver
The underground counterpart of the Black Climber, known to everyone who goes into caves across the former Soviet Union. What makes him white is calcite, settled on his clothes over years below ground. Meeting him traditionally means the party has lost the route. Cavers have a half-joking initiation rite for newcomers in which he is described — a rare case of folklore whose carriers know perfectly well it is folklore, and which is none the weaker for it.
The Black Climber
A figure in black who appears in the mountains: in some accounts he helps the lost, in others he leads them off the path. The legend is common to Soviet mountaineering as a whole and has been recorded in the Caucasus, the Tian Shan and the Pamirs; each region has its own version of who he was in life — usually somebody who was abandoned on a rope. The story has a practical point, and it explains its durability: it says out loud what actually happens in mountains, and what that world fears more than dying.
Myasnoy Bor
A tract of land outside Novgorod where the encircled Soviet 2nd Shock Army was destroyed in the spring and summer of 1942. The dead are counted in tens of thousands, and a great many of them are still unburied — search teams have worked here every season since the 1980s. Stories of voices, footsteps and the sounds of fighting in this forest are known to everyone who has been there. This is the case where the folklore needs no explaining: the place is exactly what it is described as.
Annabelle at the Warrens' museum
The real Annabelle is not the porcelain doll of the films but an ordinary Raggedy Ann of the kind sold by the million in the 1960s. Her history is known solely from the accounts of Ed and Lorraine Warren, who took the doll in 1970 and put it in a glass case in their occult museum in Monroe, Connecticut. There is no independent confirmation of any episode. The museum has been closed to visitors since 2019, but the doll remains one of the most recognisable objects in American popular occultism.
Robert the Doll
A cloth doll in a sailor suit standing behind glass at Fort East Martello in Key West. It was given to the painter Robert Eugene Otto in the early twentieth century, and by family account he talked to it and blamed it for things broken and overturned in the house. The museum now asks visitors to request the doll's permission before photographing it, and the walls around the case are covered with letters from people who did not ask and connect their subsequent misfortunes to that. The doll is real, the museum is real, and there is an admission charge.
The Char Man of Ojai
A Californian bogeyman: a burned man living by Creek Road Bridge in the Ojai Valley, who in one version survived the 1948 wildfire and in another lost his family in it. If you stop on the bridge and call him, the story goes, he answers. Fires in that valley are neither invented nor historical: it burns regularly, and the legend does what local folklore usually does — turns a recurring real danger into a figure with a name.
The Green Man of Pennsylvania
The legend of a glowing green faceless man you can meet at night by an abandoned tunnel outside Pittsburgh. There is a real person behind it: Raymond Robinson, who at nine was catastrophically burned by an electric line on a trolley bridge and lost his face and an arm. He lived until 1985 and walked at night so as not to frighten people — while teenagers drove out specifically to find him. The order of events is worth keeping in mind: first there was a man who was unlucky, and only then the ghost story.
The Black-Eyed Children
In 1996 the Texas journalist Brian Bethel posted an account to an internet mailing list about two teenagers who knocked on his car window in an Abilene car park. They asked for a lift, spoke too smoothly, and kept insisting they would not get in without being invited. When he looked up, both had completely black eyes. That one text created a genre: black-eyed children have been reported across the English-speaking world ever since, and nearly every version keeps the detail about the invitation — borrowed straight from vampire folklore.
La Llorona, the Weeping Woman
A woman in white who walks beside water weeping for children she drowned herself. The story is known throughout Latin America, but in Mexico City it is fixed to the canals of Xochimilco — the last remains of the lake system Tenochtitlan stood on. The earliest written versions date from the colonial period and braid two layers together: a Spanish tale of an abandoned woman, and pre-Hispanic accounts of a weeping female voice heard before the conquerors came.
Teke Teke
The upper half of a woman's body, moving on its elbows with the clattering sound the legend is named for. The story makes her a schoolgirl cut in two by a train. Its persistence has a simple explanation: in a country with the densest railway network in the world everyone has a level crossing of their own where the legend becomes local. Like most Japanese urban legends of the later twentieth century it spread by word of mouth through schools, long before the internet.
Aka Manto: red paper or blue
Another inhabitant of Japanese school toilets, and the cruellest in construction. A voice from the last cubicle asks which paper you want, red or blue. Choosing red means one thing, blue another, and both are bad; refusing to answer, in most versions, does not save you either. The legend is interesting because it is built as a trap with no exit: there is no right answer, and that is the point — it is the shape of a fear of being asked something you cannot answer correctly.
Hanako-san of the school toilet
A girl in a red skirt who lives in the third stall of the girls' toilet on the third floor of a school. You knock three times and call her name; if she answers, it is better not to open the door. The legend has been known across Japan since the 1980s, and its power is in the domestic precision: not an abandoned mansion or a graveyard but a particular cubicle in the building where a child spends half their life. Every school has its own version of who Hanako is and why she is there.
Mercy Brown, the Exeter vampire
In 1892 the Brown family of Exeter, Rhode Island, was losing one member after another to tuberculosis. Neighbours convinced the father that one of the dead was feeding on the living, and in March the bodies were exhumed. Two had decomposed; nineteen-year-old Mercy, who had spent the winter in a cold crypt, had not. Her heart was burned, the ashes mixed with water and given to her dying brother to drink. He died two months later. The case is the last and best-documented episode of the New England vampire panic — an attempt to explain an epidemic for which people had no other language.
Resurrection Mary
America's best-known vanishing hitchhiker. Since the 1930s drivers on Archer Avenue outside Chicago have told the same story: a fair-haired girl in a white ball gown asks for a lift, says nothing the whole way, and disappears from the car opposite the gates of Resurrection Cemetery. Attempts have been made to attach the story to several real girls who died young, and none of the versions fits the details. The vanishing-passenger plot is older than the motor car — it is known from tales of horse-drawn carriages — but the Chicago version is fixed to one road and one gate.
Playa de Dumas
Una playa de arena negra en la costa de Guyarat, usada mucho tiempo como campo de cremación hindú. Los relatos locales atribuyen el negro de la arena a la ceniza y hablan de voces y risas que se oyen en la playa de noche; las desapariciones se achacan a quienes salieron a caminar por la orilla después del anochecer. Las autoridades cierran la playa de noche, lo que no hace más que favorecer su fama.
El lago Sagami
Un lago artificial de la prefectura de Kanagawa, creado en 1947 al inundar un valle: bajo el agua quedan casas y un tramo de carretera. Fue el primer embalse construido en Japón después de la guerra. Se ha ganado fama de sitio del que no se vuelve: los ahogamientos y suicidios aquí están notablemente por encima de la media, y los relatos locales lo atribuyen al pueblo sumergido.
Oiran Buchi
Un desfiladero de la prefectura de Yamanashi ligado a una de las tradiciones más sombrías de Japón. En el siglo XVI, según el relato, al cerrarse la mina de oro de Kurosawa se condujo a cincuenta y cinco cortesanas que conocían el trazado de las galerías hasta una plataforma colgada sobre el río, y se cortaron las cuerdas. Nada lo confirma históricamente, pero el sitio se trata formalmente como lugar de memoria, y el puente tiene la fama correspondiente.
Las montañas Hakkōda
Unas montañas del norte de Honshū donde, en enero de 1902, una unidad del ejército fue casi aniquilada en una marcha de instrucción: de doscientos diez hombres sobrevivieron once. Los sorprendió una ventisca de fuerza excepcional y algunos se helaron de pie. Sigue siendo la peor catástrofe en la historia del montañismo. Al lugar se lo llama uno de los más sombríos de Japón, y aquí los relatos de encuentros con soldados en la senda no llaman la atención.
Castillo de Leap
Un castillo del condado de Offaly en manos del clan O'Carroll, donde en 1532 un hermano apuñaló a otro — sacerdote — ante el altar durante la misa. Desde entonces esa sala se llama la Capilla Sangrienta. En unas obras de principios del siglo XX se abrió debajo un olvido con pinchos en el fondo; los restos llenaron tres carros. Aparte está el Elemental, una entidad cuya llegada se anuncia, dicen, con olor a podredumbre y azufre.
Las bóvedas de Edimburgo
Diecinueve arcos del South Bridge, acondicionados por dentro en 1788 como talleres y almacenes. En treinta años la humedad los hizo inservibles y se instalaron allí los pobres: sin luz, sin desagüe, sin ventilación. Se cree que aquí trabajaron Burke y Hare, vendiendo cadáveres a los anatomistas. Las bóvedas se rellenaron y no se reabrieron hasta los años ochenta; ahora las recorren visitas guiadas, y los relatos de los visitantes coinciden de forma llamativa.
Castillo de Chillingham
Un castillo del siglo XIII en Northumberland, junto a la frontera escocesa, donde se retuvo y torturó a escoceses capturados durante siglos: la cámara de tortura se conserva con sus instrumentos. Su figura más conocida es el Niño Radiante, un resplandor azulado junto a una pared de la Habitación Rosa; en unas obras aparecieron emparedados en ese muro los huesos de un niño y un trozo de tela azul. Tras darles sepultura, dicen los propietarios, cesó.
Borley, «la casa más embrujada de Inglaterra»
Una aldea de Essex donde se alzaba una rectoría que el investigador Harry Price declaró en 1929 la casa más embrujada de Inglaterra, alquilándola un año para observarla. Se contaba de una monja que recorría el jardín, un carruaje fantasma y escritos que aparecían en las paredes. La casa ardió en 1939. Después se supo que buena parte de los fenómenos los había producido probablemente el propio Price, pero la fama sobrevivió a la casa y al desmentido.