Folklore and Ghosts | Newark Guide

Below you will find a collection of Folklore stories and Ghost stories collected from various sources over time

The Tale of 'The Grim' of Kelham Marsh

Ask any old local fisherman who’s worked the banks of the Trent near Kelham, and you’ll hear the same warning: “When the fog creeps in thick and low, keep your eyes on your nets, and never look too long into the marsh.”

Keep reading for details on the pic

And if you've not heard it before, heed the warning faithful fishermen!
For generations, Newark’s fishermen have swapped tales of the Kelham Grim, a monstrous black dog that haunts the marshes when the river mist rises. They say the beast is as tall as a man’s hip, its fur slick with river water, and its eyes glow a sickly yellow through the fog. Some claim its paws make no sound on the sodden ground, while others swear they’ve heard its low growl rumble from deep within the fog.

The Tales are always from between Kelham Bridge and Muskham Bridge, so if you're ever fishing there and the fog rolls in, keep an eye and ear out
The stories always start the same: a fisherman, alone at dawn or dusk, tending his nets or checking his lines. The fog thickens, muffling the world, and suddenly the air grows cold and heavy. That’s when the Grim appears, sometimes just a pair of glowing eyes, sometimes a hulking shadow pacing the reeds.

The bravest men say if you meet its gaze, a chill settles in your bones, and you’ll soon hear of a death, yours, a friend’s, or someone close.
Jack Henshaw once told of seeing the Grim while hauling nets one autumn morning back in 1856.

‘Twas upon a chill Michaelmas eve, the fog lying thick as wool upon Kelham Marshes, that I set out to tend my nets, as is my custom since boyhood.

The hour was yet early, the sun but a pale ghost behind the mist, when I heard a padding upon the sodden earth, though no man nor beast did I see at first. Presently, out of the mist, there appeared a hound of such monstrous size and aspect as to freeze the very blood in my veins. Its coat was blacker than the pit, and its eyes did burn with a baleful fire, yellow and unholy, like lanterns in the gloom.

The beast made no sound, nor did it snarl, but regarded me with a gaze so deep and sorrowful that I felt the chill of the grave upon me. My own dog, faithful Tom, did whimper and flee, and I confess, my courage near failed me. Yet I stood rooted, unable to look away, until the creature turned and vanished into the reeds, leaving naught but silence and the echo of dread.

Within the week, ill fortune befell my neighbour, a stout bargeman, who was taken by fever and passed from this world."

The only known (apparent) photo which I was lucky enough to be shown by an old resident of Kelham is the 3rd one (below) on this post which apparently shows a dark shape with piercing eyes (to the right of the fisherman, ive zoomed in a bit on pic 4) - taken along the river near Kelham between 1916 and 1918

Others have found paw prints, far too large for any dog, pressed deep in the mud, vanishing where the river meets the marsh.

Even now, the younger fishermen keep to the main channel (and close together) when the fog rolls in, and the elders mutter prayers if they glimpse strange lights in the reeds. Some used to leave offerings, a bit of bread, a silver coin, tucked into the roots of the willow trees, hoping to appease whatever haunts the marsh.

So if you ever find yourself fishing, or walking, near Kelham on a foggy night, remember the old warnings: keep your head down, your lantern close, and if you see two glowing eyes in the mist, pack up your nets and bugger off as quick as possible

The Grim of Kelham Marsh is always watching, and its gaze is an omen no fisherman wishes to meet.

Further Ghost Stories

Whispers from the other side: A Slightly Skeptical Stumble Through Newark’s Haunted History

Ah Newark, a town steeped in centuries of dramatic history. It doesn't just boast picturesque ruins and charming market squares, Civil War cannonballs and people arguing over parking spaces.

Oh bloody no.

Beneath its historic facade lies a spectral underbelly, a thriving community of the dearly departed who apparently missed the memo about moving on.

If you're looking for a town that truly embraces its past, even the bit that goes bump in the night, then pull up a pew and prepare for some chilling tales (Hot Chocolate for this one and a few cheeky Choc Covered Hobnobs).

I have to state here that I'm personally a firm skeptic when it comes to ghosts. I’m not one for ghost-hunting gadgets or EMF meters that beep every time someone sneezes. My mind leans on facts, not spectral figures. Yet, the lore of a place, its chilling legends, the tales spread amongst a community and the sheer power of a good story utterly fascinate me, especially when it involves a headless monk, a haunted pub, or a portrait that throws itself off the wall in protest of alcohol. (We’ve all been there New years day morning 2004.)

So, while I don't believe in literal hauntings, I'm captivated by how these tales weave into a town's history and character.

If you have any other stores, please do add in the comments, even though im a skeptic, I love hearing others stories, especially if they involve Newark

Let's kick things off with the grand dame herself, Newark Castle.

Shes seen King John kick the bucket and endured the brutal English Civil War. So, naturally, it's a hotspot for sly spectral shenanigans. Our starring role goes to the Hanging Ranger. Picture this, if you will dear reader: early 1900s, a castle ranger, a supposed illicit affair, and a tragic end in what was then the King's Bedroom. Visitors and guides alike claim to have witnessed his ghostly form, still twitching and jolting from the ceiling. Talk about a commitment to your craft, even in the afterlife!

But wait, there's more! The dungeons echo with hushed voices and chanting, while the oubliette (the "forgetting place" where prisoners were left to starve – cheerful, right? And immediately it makes me think of David Bowies Crotch) leaves visitors with an overwhelming sense of dread. And if you hear screaming from the curtain wall by the river?

That'll just be the faint echoes of Civil War anguish. Nothing to worry about, Duck.

Every good theatre has a resident ghost, and Newark's Palace Theatre is practically a haunted house with a stage. Its most famous spectral performer is a suicidal headmistress.

Apparently, a scandalous affair (Always with the affairs) exposed within these very walls led her to a tragic end in the upper seating. Now, she makes unscheduled appearances, much to the surprise of staff and unsuspecting theatregoers. But she's not alone in the spotlight. This place is a posh poltergeist playground.

Dressing room doors slam (and not from overly dramatic dames) empty seats mysteriously lower, and props play hide-and-seek. And the disembodied footsteps and voices can be heard from backstage. ?

Now. Booze related ones

What's a historic town without a haunted pub or two?

The Old Kings Arms Public House is home to a rather boisterous character known affectionately as "Stomper." This unseen entity delights in opening and slamming doors and rearranging the furniture, all accompanied by a distinct, heavy stomping sound.

The former Ossington Coffee Tavern. Built as a temperance establishment, it's said that when alcohol was finally introduced to the premises around 1980, a portrait of Lady Ossington (the teetotal founder) would dramatically leap off the wall in protest.