‘A spectral rehearsal for a death that is written into the landscape’

T E Rogers

The Candlelight Historian

Wales is steeped in tales of fantasy, folklore and mythology, to the extent that anything you see on popular fantasy dramas like House of Dragons or the Witcher seems fairly normal.

This is due to our crefydd (spiritual belief and faith) and our hanes (history), where we have been brought up on tales of mountain top lakes with a certain lady who haunts the grounds.

These are  a reminder of a magical past, three chances that were harsh but fair .

Any attempt to rank our tales of love, spectral hounds from a place so near yet so far away and of skilled pharmacists that pioneered the way for modern medicine and cures, is simply impossible.

Even so, with Calan Gaeaf finally here, when the veil between us and Annwfn (the otherworld of our Welsh tradition) is wafer thin, there are some little known epic tales, passed down through the generations, which I will share with you today.

Candlelight

In the early 1800s a Gweinidog (chapel minister) was walking along Heol Cwmgarw in Brynaman, close to Capel Moriah, and out of the corner of his eye he could see a large candle on a window sill. Today this wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, many households burn candles with various odours in various sizes, every supermarket sells them. But this was no ordinary candle, this was a corpse candle, a canwyll corff, potentially the last candle you were likely to see or an indication that someone you may know may be fated to meet their end. For this man of faith, this isn’t something out of the ordinary, they will be very familiar with the prophecy associated with this dark light from a better place.

The Local Veil

Every part of Wales has its own strange tales, premonitions are not always corporeal or seen as eerie lights – Rhys Thomas, a carpenter from Carmarthenshire, had a dream that a ghostly figure tapped him on the shoulder, and seemed to say from far away “my darling Rhys how are you?”. He woke up frightened and shivering but went back to sleep and thought nothing of it. He woke up the next day and went to the funeral of a close friend, towards the end of the procession a woman tapped him on the shoulder from behind and whispered the exact same phrase.

Was this a premonition of a future event, how was the woman’s voice and touch exactly the same? What was the meaning of this immaculate echo from the future – whatever the truth of it, poor Rhys Thomas was never the same.

Canwyll Corff Abermaw

In the early 19th century, a group of journalists arrived in Abermaw (Barmouth), their initial assignment being to write scathing reports about the region’s supposed outdated character. Imagine their astonishment, then, when they crossed back over the bridge with stories not of stagnation, but of unexplained phenomena—specifically, what many believed to be UFOs hovering over the seaside town.

Their diligent investigation compiled two chilling tales of strange lights culminating in sudden, unforeseen death.

The reporters split into two groups. The first descended upon the Mawddach estuary and immediately noticed a bizarre light emanating from the Ferry House of Penrhyn. They documented that the light appeared to be both inside the property and impossibly suspended on the outside window ledge. Intrigued, they rushed to investigate this free-moving, hovering phenomena, but by the time they arrived, the light had vanished.

Many Barmouth residents corroborated the sightings, offering varied theories—some believed it was a canwyll corff (corpse candle), while others speculated it was extraterrestrial. Eerily, just two nights later, the man who owned the property fell into the estuary and drowned.

These accounts share a disturbing pattern: extraordinary, out-of-the-ordinary lights were clearly witnessed, and in turn, they mysteriously foreshadowed the demise of someone associated with that specific location.

We cherish many national treasures in our beautiful Celtic Nation, but the Canwyll Corff is unique—a story rarely replicated elsewhere. We Cymry have always held legend, mystery, and mythology deep within our being, it is a fundamental part of who we are and embedded in our very identity. We understand the power and meaning of these strange lights in the dark, especially around the turning of the seasons when the veil between worlds is so thin and fragile.

See a Canwyll Corff if you must, but be warned: you may wish you hadn’t.

Annwfn – our very own Otherworld

You see, the thing with Annwfn, Adar Rhiannon (the birds of Rhiannon), Cŵn Annwfn (the Hounds of Annwfn – mysterious hunting hounds with bright white coats and blood red ears), and so many more of the wonders, creatures, and happenings, of this uniquely Welsh alternative reality, is that everything is other. What is far is near, what is near is far, it is a mirror to our world and yet, at the same time, it is a world unto itself. Impossible to understand, impossible to ignore, a mystical influence and presence which imbues the whole of Cymru, the everlasting ffrwd (Spring) from which the endless and boundless energy which makes us the gwlad hud a lledrith (land of magic and mystery) flows.

Tread softly at this time of year, tread lightly in the night, be especially alert at dusk and dawn – if you see or sense a piece of Annwfn, take care to stay on this side of the curtain, if you see or meet a creature or inhabitant of Annwfn, be polite!