21/06/2025
Holy Trinity Church
A foreboding ascent of 196 stone steps leads you to the eerie heights of Holy Trinity Church, perched ominously on a rocky outcrop, casting a shadow over Buckfast Abbey.
As you step into the graveyard, a chilling presence envelops you. Dominating the scene is a massive tomb, often whispered about by locals as a “penthouse tomb.” Its roof looms overhead, with a rear door secured by iron bars. Peering through those bars reveals the resting place of the infamous Squire Richard Cabell, a 16th-century figure shrouded in darkness. His reputation as an evil man has long haunted the imaginations of Buckfastleigh’s inhabitants, who believe he sold his soul to Satan himself. The thick granite slab sealing his tomb only deepens the dread; locals feared him in life, and now they shudder at the thought of his malevolent spirit returning.
Squire Cabell died on July 5, 1677, and from that day forth, his legacy of terror took root. Each year, as the anniversary of his death approaches, villagers report sightings of grotesque black hounds with glowing red eyes, prowling menacingly around his tomb. Whispers tell of nightmarish creatures that gather to pay homage to the wicked squire, echoing the darkness that surrounded him in life.
Local lore warns that if you dare to circle Cabell’s tomb seven times and reach your hand through the iron bars, either the squire or the devil himself might reach out to sn**ch at you, leaving behind a chilling mark.
The church itself has a sinister history, once a favored haunt for body sn**chers seeking fresh corpses. It stands today as a hollow shell of its former self, having suffered a lightning strike in 1884, a devastating arson fire in 1849, and destruction during World War II when its stained glass windows shattered under the weight of nearby bomb blasts.
On July 21, 1997, at the stroke of midnight, a horrific fire erupted beneath the church’s altar. Locals whispered that Satanists had returned, for the area is notorious for devil worship. The blaze was so fierce that the church could not be saved, leaving only ashes and an enduring sense of dread.
I have spent many hours at Holy Trinity Church, and as darkness falls, the air thickens with an unnerving vibe, a sensation of being watched by unseen eyes. During one investigation, my fellow investigators and I sought to capture evidence of the supernatural. Though I never encountered those monstrous hounds, I felt an overwhelming dread that urged me to flee.
In a sheltered corner, we called out, inviting any spirits to reveal themselves. Twice, a trigger object flew from its perch on the windowsill, crashing to the ground before our eyes. Each time, disbelief mingled with terror as we realised something beyond our understanding was at play.
Other phenomena unfolded; two of my companions spotted a dark silhouette lurking in the doorway. Armed with powerful torches, we scoured the area, but found nothing—no person, no explanation, only the chilling echo of our own breaths.
The shadows of Holy Trinity Church hold secrets that linger long after the light fades, and the whispers of the past continue to haunt the living.
Featured in the book ‘Haunted Dartmoor’ by Kevin Hynes. www.hauntedplymouth.com
