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The Croglin Grange Vampire - England · Mystery Archives Episodes

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There are certain realms of the paranormal and unexplained that
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seem to capture our imagination more than others, weaving
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themselves into legend and folklore, yet occasionally
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emerging as potential realities. One such entity that appears to
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dwell solely in the realm of fiction and fantasy is the
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vampire. However, despite the seemingly
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mythical nature of these immortal blood drinking beings,
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there are instances that Surface has purported encounters with
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these creatures, and one such account allegedly occurred in
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the tranquil English countryside.
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It is a tale that has become a curious part of local lore and a
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historic anomaly still discussed to this day.
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This is the untold story of the Crawglin Grange vampire
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in the idyllic countryside of Cumberland, northwest England.
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This tale began unfolding in 1875.
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It was that spring when two brothers, Edward and Michael
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Cranswell, along with their sister Amelia, ventured to this
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region and temporarily took up residence in a modest single
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home stone farmhouse known as the Kroglin Grange.
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Overlooking the picturesque valley and nestled near an
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ancient churchyard, the property owned by the Fisher family
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seemed to draw the siblings in. Initially intending a brief
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stay, the Cranswells found themselves captivated by the
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serene rural life, swiftly becoming familiar faces among
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the locals. Their initial plans for a
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fleeting visit gradually dissipated as an inexplicable
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force seemed to compel them to linger.
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The townspeople, unaware of the undercurrents brewing beneath
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the surface, welcomed the siblings with open arms,
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oblivious to the veil that hid their true intentions.
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That sweltering summer, an ominous presence, seemed to
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linger, casting a shadow over the quaint farmhouse.
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As the relentless heat wave persisted, Amelia found herself
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tossing and turning, growing more and more uncomfortable with
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the shutters flung open in a desperate attempt to coax in a
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cooling breeze. She lay awake, her gaze fixated
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on the inky blackness that shrouded the trees beyond.
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It was then that something caught her eye, a faint
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flickering that danced among the branches, gradually intensifying
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as it drew nearer. 2 pen pricks of light weaved their way
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through the darkness, their approach sending a chill down
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Amelia's spine. Despite the stifling heat, a
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sense of foreboding gripped her, an inexplicable dread that she
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could not explain. As the eerie lights drew closer,
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Amelia felt the dread growing and enveloping her, a thick and
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palpable fear that gripped her very being.
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The source of the flickering illumination emerged from the
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shadows behind the window pane, revealing a grotesque facade, a
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hideous brown face with blazing eyes that leered menacingly at
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her. Its clawed hands began to
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scratch at the glass, desperate to gain entry, though
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fortunately, the window remained locked.
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Amelia found herself paralyzed, her voice trapped in her throat,
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unable to utter a sound as she trembled in silent terror,
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transfixed by the monstrous entity outside.
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As the creature's attempts to open the window escalated from
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mere scratches to peeling away the lead that sealed the pane's
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edges, Amelia's mind raised with unspeakable horrors, unable to
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comprehend just who or what sought to breach her sanctuary.
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When the window pane shattered onto the floor, a Bony claw like
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hand beached through, deftly unlocking the latch from within,
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Amelia's voice remained trapped, still paralyzed as a towering,
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shadowy figure glided across the room.
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It seized her in its embrace, grasping her hair and forcibly
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yanking her head back, exposing her vulnerable throat.
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Despite her desperate attempts to move or cry out, she thus
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remained petrified, helpless against this monster.
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As the creature bent down, its teeth poised to Pierce her
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flesh, the searing pain finally unleashed a piercing scream that
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echoed throughout the night. Jolted awake by their sister's
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terrified cries, Edward and Michael Cranswell sprang into
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action, rushing towards Amelia's room.
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With a forceful thrust, they broke down the door only to
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witness a chilling sight, that shadowy figure swiftly escaping
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through the shattered window. Without hesitation, one of the
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brothers grabbed a fire poker and gave chase, determined to
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confront the intruder. However, the entity moved with
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an unnatural swiftness, its strides unnervingly long and
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inhuman as it leapt over the ancient church wall,
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disappearing into the Knights embrace.
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The brothers were left bewildered and unsettled.
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Amelia, shaken and bleeding from her neck, recounted the
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harrowing ordeal. Initially, she attributed the
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attack to a deranged individual, perhaps an escaped asylum
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patient, her mind unable to comprehend the true nature of
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the assailant. The notion of a vampire, a
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creature of myth and legend, seemed too fantastical to
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consider. Deeply concerned for their
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sister's well-being, the Cranswell brothers decided to
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whisk Amelia away from the once peaceful, now terrifying
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confines of the Krawgling Grange.
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A long vacation in Switzerland, they hoped, would provide her
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with the respite and recovery she desperately needed, allowing
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her to regain her strength and put the traumatic experience
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behind her. As they departed, an air of
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uncertainty lingered, the sense that the tranquil countryside
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harbored a sinister presence, a force that defied rational
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explanation. The events of that night had
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left more questions than answers in their wake.
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When they returned to Krogland Grange the following autumn, the
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memory of that traumatic night did not leave the family.
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With time, the siblings were determined to confront any
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sinister force that remained. The brothers meticulously
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arranged their sleeping quarters directly across from Amelia's
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room, ensuring a watchful eye over her safety.
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Pistols were strategically placed within reach, just in
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case the creature did rear its head again.
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Amelia, still bearing the scars of the original attack,
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diligently secured her shutters each evening, fortifying her
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chambers. For a time, an eerie calm seemed
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to settle the countryside abode, lulling them into a false sense
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of security. The winter months passed without
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incident, however, as the first blossoms of spring unfurled the
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familiar cold wind Harold the soon return of the creature.
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One evening, Amelia's slumber was once again disrupted by the
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hauntingly familiar sound, a scratching and tapping against
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her window, now fortified with shutters to shield her from the
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horrific visage that lurked beyond.
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Bracing herself for the worst yet clinging to the hope that it
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was merely an animal's doing, she mustered the courage to peer
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through the narrow gap at the top of the pane, left uncovered
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by the shudders protective barrier.
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There, hunched menacingly at her window, was the same wretched
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creature she had encountered before it, shriveled, grotesque
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appearance and burning ember like eyes glaring.
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This time Amelia's voice did not fail her, and she screamed as
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loud as she could, a desperate cry that jolted her brothers
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into immediate action. They burst forth from the house,
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pistols loaded and ready in a frantic pursuit.
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They allegedly managed to strike the creature in the leg as it
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fled, but its unnatural speed and agility allowed it to evade
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their grasp. Undeterred, it fled towards the
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nearby graveyard, disappearing into the depths of the ancient
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crypt. Again, the brothers knew that
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they couldn't face the creature alone.
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The previous night's encounter had shaken them to their core,
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and the realization that others in the area had experienced
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similar harrowing visitations only added to the sense of
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unease that gripped them. Whispers of drained livestock
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and a young girl bearing inexplicable bite wounds spread
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like wildfire, fueling speculation that they were
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confronting a force beyond comprehension.
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The Cranswell brothers rallied the locals, imploring any able
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bodied individuals to join their crusade.
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As the sun swept over the horizon, a small band of locals
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gathered, armed with an array of makeshift weapons, ready to
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confront the sinister creature that had plagued their once
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peaceful hamlet, their footsteps echoing through the ancient
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graveyard. As they approached the ominous
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crypt where the creature had sought refuge, the air hung
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heavy with a palpable sense of dread, as if the very stones
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themselves harbored secrets best left undisturbed.
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Yet, driven by a burning curiosity and a desire to
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restore tranquility to their community, they pressed on.
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As they neared the Crips entrance, a hush fell over the
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group. The brothers exchanged a
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resolute glance, their grip tightening around their weapons
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as they prepared to venture into the abyss.
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As they crossed a threshold into the gloomy crypt, a chill ran
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down their spines. Their torchlight cast eerie
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shadows across the defiled graves, coffins torn asunder,
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their contents strewn haphazardly across the stone
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floor. A sense of unease gripped them,
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yet amidst the desecrated resting places, one coffin
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remained untouched. With bated breath, they pried
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open the lid, and what greeted them was a sight that would
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forever be etched into their memories.
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There, lying motionless within the confines of the coffin, was
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the very creature that had terrorized them.
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Its features now doled as if trapped in a trance like state.
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A fresh bullet wound marred its leg, a testament to the brothers
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earlier pursued, but it seemed to have little effect on the
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entity's unnatural existence. Realization dawned upon them, a
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chilling certainty that they were indeed confronting a
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vampire, a creature of myth and legend now made flesh before
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their very eyes. The whisper entails that had
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once seemed like mere folklore now took on a terrifying
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reality. The brothers knew that they
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could not allow this abomination to continue its reign of terror.
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Swiftly, they set about gathering the necessary
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materials, determined to purge the entity from their midst once
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and for all. The crackling flames cast a glow
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upon their faces as they prepared to consign the creature
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to the cleansing fire, a ritual that would hopefully bring an
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end to the harrowing ordeal. As the flames licked at the
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creature's form, the brothers and their companions watched
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with a mixture of trepidation and relief, knowing that they
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had vanquished a force that had threatened to unravel the very
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fabric their existence. The smoke curled upwards,
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carrying with it the lingering remnants of a mystery that had
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once seemed unfathomable, yet had now been laid to rest,
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forever etched into the annals of local lore.
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This rather dramatic and sensational tale was initially
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recounted by the English travel writer and author Augustus Hare,
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who included it in his multi volume 1890s autobiography The
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Story of My Life under the section titled The Beast of
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Crogling Grange. The narrative reads like a
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chilling Horror Story, and given that Hare was known for
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publishing ghost accounts during an era when sensationally
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macabre and gothic pulp stories known as penny dreadfuls were
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popular, one might assume it to be a work of fiction.
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However, Hare presented it as a completely real and factual
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account without any indication that it was a fabrication.
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According to him, he had personally heard the story in
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1874 directly from the actual owner of Crockling Grange,
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Captain Edward Fisher Rowie, whose family had owned the
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property for generations. However, Herr neglected to cite
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many names or detailed locations or provide verifiable sources,
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leaving the reader to ponder the veracity of the events
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described. Since Herr never admitted that
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any part of it was fictional and consistently presented it as
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fact, the account has become a perplexing mystery, sparking
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endless debates as to whether any element of it is rooted in
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truth or if it was a product of either Hare's or Fisher's
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imagination. One of the earliest skeptics to
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scrutinize his published work was Charles George Harper, an
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English author and illustrator. Harper embarked on a personal
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quest to Cumberland in 1924, determined to get to the bottom
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of the alleged events at Crawglin Grange.
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However, his investigation yielded perplexing results.
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As Harper delved into the heart of the local community, he
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encountered a startling revelation.
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Not a single resident had ever heard of a place called Krogling
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Grange, nor could they recall any whispers of its existence.
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It seemed as though this location had vanished into the
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midst of time, leaving no tangible trace behind.
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Undeterred, Harper scoured the countryside, seeking any
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semblance of the dwelling described in Hare's account.
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The closest he could uncover was a structure known as Kroglin Low
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Hall, yet its characteristics diverged significantly from the
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haunting depiction. Not only was it situated over a
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mile from the nearest church, but it stood as a two-story
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edifice, defying the single story description of the Grange.
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Moreover, the adjacent cemetery bore no evidence of the sinister
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crypt that had allegedly harbored the malevolent entity.
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Harper's quest to substantiate the existence of the Cranswell
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siblings proved equally fruitless.
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Despite his meticulous efforts, he could find no records or
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accounts that corroborated their presence in the region.
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Compounding this perplexity was the scarcity of clear
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information provided in Hare's narrative, rendering any attempt
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to trace their footsteps an exercise in futility.
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As Harper's investigation drew to a close, he found himself
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confronted with more questions than answers.
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The tale of the Kroglin Grange vampire, once presented as an
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unvarnished account of a supernatural encounter, now
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stood as a tantalizing controversy, its origins and
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truthfulness lost to time. This cast significant doubt on
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the authenticity of the Krogland vampire tale, suggesting that it
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was either an intentional fabrication or an unintentional
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distortion of the truth. However, Harper's conclusions
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would face scrutiny in the 1930s, when researcher F Clive
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Ross embarked on his own investigation in Cumberland.
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Ross's findings painted a different picture, one that
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hinted at a kernel of truth buried beneath the layers of
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mystery. According to Ross's research,
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Crogland Lohal was indeed the location Harrod described,
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though the property had since been demolished and a Chapel
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erected in its place. Remarkably, remnants of the
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original structure remained, including the foundation stones
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of an ancient church and graveyard, the very same hollow
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ground where the sinister entity was said to have taken refuge.
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Even more compelling was the discovery of a bricked up
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window. Rumored to be the very one
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through which the vampire had first appeared, tormenting the
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unsuspecting, Amelia Ross's findings injected a newfound
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sense of intrigue into the narrative, suggesting that
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beneath the sensationalized elements, there may have been a
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genuine encounter that sparked the tale's origins.
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The existence of the church and graveyard lent credence to the
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idea that something inexplicable had transpired in this secluded
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corner of the English countryside, an event so
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profound that it interlocked itself into local folklore,
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evolving and transforming with each retelling.
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Was it a mere fiction, born from the fertile imagination of a
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storyteller? Or did it represent a distorted
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recounting of a genuine paranormal event, its details
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obscured by the passage of time? The answers remained elusive,
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and the tale would continue to captivate generations to come.
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However, further investigations shed new light on the narrative.
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It was discovered that others in the region had indeed heard the
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story. An old, mostly forgotten local
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myth in the Fisher family was very much real.
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One local resident even revealed that Kroglin Lohal had once been
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referred to as Kroglin Grange until 1720, suggesting that
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although Hare may have mixed up the dates, at least some
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elements of this tale held true. This aligned with the findings
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of a journalist, Lionel Fanthrope, who in recent years
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concluded that at Krogland Grange and a vault matching the
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one in the story had existed in the 1600s.
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While the full scope of events remained obscured the
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possibility that an inexplicable encounter had indeed transpired
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in the secluded corner of the English countryside, the tale
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and origin of the Krogland Grange vampire remains
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uncertain. While the evidence neither
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confirms nor denies the events described, the lack of concrete
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proof poses a significant challenge for those seeking to
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validate the existence of a bloodthirsty creature of the
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night stalking the English countryside in the 1800s.
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It is highly plausible that this account originated from an
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unreliable second hand source, perhaps Fisher himself, who may
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have fabricated this story, drawn inspiration from
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sensational Gothic literature of the era, or distorted factual
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elements beyond recognition. Alternatively, it could be the
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work of pure fiction crafted by hair, skillfully weaving real
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locations into a narrative presented as truth for dramatic
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effect, only to be misconstrued as a potentially genuine
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encounter in later years, taking on a life of its own.
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Or perhaps it was merely a mischievous jest, a playful
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attempt to captivate and perplex.
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The truth remains elusive, leaving us to ponder the
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possibility as something inexplicable transpired in the
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secluded corner of Cumberland, transforming with each retelling
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and baffling those who dive deeper.
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Thank you all for watching this latest video.
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Remember to please stay safe out there and take care.
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I'll see you next time.