
When Walls Can Talk: The Podcast | Where Paranormal Mysteries and Dark History Collide
When Walls Can Talk: The Podcast is a journey into the unknown, exploring the fascinating history and paranormal happenings of some of the world's most haunted locations. Hosted by Denver-based witch, tarot reader, and paranormal enthusiast, Jeremy Haig, each episode delves into the mysteries, haunted histories, true crime cases and supernatural secrets that lie within the walls of haunted houses, abandoned buildings, and other eerie locations. With a combination of storytelling, interviews, and personal experiences, this podcast offers a unique and immersive listening experience for those interested in the supernatural and the unexplained. Tune in and let the walls speak for themselves
When Walls Can Talk: The Podcast | Where Paranormal Mysteries and Dark History Collide
5.2 | What Crawls Beneath: The Haunting Mystery of Bohemia's Strangest Castle
Deep in the forests of the Czech Republic stands Houska Castle, a fortress with no strategic purpose, no defensive advantage, and no real reason to exist—except, perhaps, to trap something inside.
For centuries, legends have whispered of a bottomless pit beneath its foundation, a chasm so dark and deep that locals claimed it was a gateway to Hell itself. Medieval villagers refused to settle near it. The Nazis occupied it for reasons still shrouded in mystery. And even today, visitors report shadowy figures, inhuman whispers, and something moving beneath the stone floors.
So what is Houska Castle, really? A medieval experiment in fear? A forgotten pagan site repurposed by the Church? A natural geological anomaly misinterpreted by centuries of superstition? Or is it something far more sinister?
Join me as we dig deep into one of Europe’s strangest fortresses, uncovering its history, legends, Nazi experiments, and modern paranormal encounters—and asking the question that lingers long after the doors close behind you:
If you stood inside Houska Castle, staring down into the darkness… would you listen to what’s crawling beneath?
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The first thing you need to understand about Hauska Castle is that it shouldn't be there. Castles are built to keep things out Armies, invaders, the creeping hands of time. But Hauska Hauska was built in the middle of nowhere. Why Not on the edge of a battlefield, not along a river or a trade route, but deep in the forests of the Czech Republic, in a place with no strategic value, no natural defenses, nothing that would justify the effort. It just sits there, defying logic, and the deeper you dig into its history, the stranger it gets. The first time I read about Hauska, I kept circling back to this same question why? Why build a fortress with no town, no water source and for no army? They say Hauska Castle wasn't built to keep something out. It was built to keep something in that beneath its foundation is a pit so deep no one has ever found the bottom that before the castle existed, people saw creatures claw their way out of it Twisted bodies, black leathery wings that when the pit couldn't be filled, they built a fortress over it instead. They feared this pit so much they didn't just try to cover it, they built an entire castle to trap it. And then there's the Nazi connection, because of course there is. The SS took over Hauska during World War II, drawn to its dark reputation. Some believe they were searching for something in the depths below. Others say they found it. I don't know what's real yet, but I do know this when a place is built for no reason except to seal something in, that's worth looking into. Maybe it's just a story, maybe that's all it ever was. But Hauska isn't just a haunted castle. It's every question we've ever had about what could be A place that almost taunts us with the answers we'll never get in this lifetime and that makes me lean in closer. This is when walls can talk, where we may never find all the answers, but we'll sure as hell listen and try. I don't recall exactly when I started listening. Maybe I always have. Some people are drawn to what they can see, what they can prove. I've never had that luxury. The world has always spoken to me in ways I couldn't quite explain Through the heavy weight of a silent, empty room, through a story no one remembers telling, through a voice in my head I'm not entirely sure was my own. I used to wonder if I was imagining it, if I was just another person looking for patterns in the noise. But the older I got, the more I realized the past doesn't go quiet just because we stopped listening. I don't know if I'll ever understand what it all means. Maybe I'm not supposed to, but I do know this. I will never stop searching. This might be my journey, but these are their stories. I'm Jeremy. Stop searching. This might be my journey, but these are their stories. I'm Jeremy Haig, and this is when Walls Can Talk.
Speaker 1:The podcast, season five. Let's play a game. You're a medieval lord. You have power, wealth and the ability to build just about anything. You want A fortress, a palace, a monument to your own ego, for all intents and purposes. But if you're going to sink money into a massive stone castle, you do it for a reason. You build it somewhere important, somewhere strategic, somewhere that serves a purpose.
Speaker 1:And yet Hauska exists. It's buried deep in the forests of the Czech Republic, far from any trade route, any kingdom's border or any natural defense point. There's no real water source, no river, no well, nothing that could sustain a population. It's just there, a castle in the middle of nowhere, doing nothing for no one. Many of the windows are fake, just glass panes with solid stone behind them. The layout is completely nonsensical. There's no sign it was ever designed for anyone to actually live there. No kitchen, no central hearth, no great hall where noblemen and soldiers would gather. If this was meant to be a defensive stronghold, someone forgot to plan for people actually living in it. Just outside the castle, there are ruins of what were likely homes for the laypeople, the blacksmiths, the servants, the laborers who would have supported the castle's function, whatever that function was. And yet here those ruins are the only sign of habitation. Outside of that, nothing, no reason, no logic behind why Hauska should exist in this place at all.
Speaker 1:And this place, this dense, dark, claustrophobic stretch of wilderness, feels like it's been holding secrets for a long time. The forests in this region are ancient, tangled and thick enough that even daylight struggles to get through. The trees seem to lean in on you, pressing close, muffling sound. It's the kind of place where silence isn't peaceful, it's oppressive, it's watching. If you are expecting a fairytale castle with towering spires and grand, sweeping staircases, yeah, no, hauska is wrong in a way that's hard to put your finger on at first. It's imposing, but not grand. Old but not majestic. It just sits there, hunched on top of a limestone cliff, buried in the dense forests of northern Bohemia, like it's been deliberately tucked away from the world.
Speaker 1:Right at the center of the castle, directly over what the legend says is a bottomless pit, there's a tiny, dimly lit chapel. Its walls are lined with ancient frescoes, angels, demons and strange not-quite-human figures locked in battle. If the goal was to sanctify whatever was beneath it, they sure weren't subtle about it. Everything about Hauska feels off like a prison with no guards, a fortress with no army, a door locked from the inside. And that's the part that keeps me up at night, because if this place wasn't built to keep people out, then what the hell was it trying to keep in? If you're like me, this is where your brain really starts itching, because in the 1200s you didn't just waste priceless resources like this for no reason. If you were going to haul stone into a remote forest and build something as massive as Hauska, it had to be for a damn good reason. And here's where things get interesting, because before there ever was a castle, the land itself already had a reputation. The people who lived nearby didn't just avoid it, they were terrified of it. They were terrified of it.
Speaker 1:Imagine it's the 13th century. You're a villager in Bohemia. The forests surrounding your village aren't just trees and wildlife, they're alive, in a way that almost feels aware. You don't walk alone at night because you know deep in your bones that something could be watching from the dark. And this isn't paranoia, it's not fear for fear's sake, because people have seen things. And when you live in a time when everything sickness, storms, war is out of your control, you pay attention to the warnings that get passed down. So where exactly are we? This is Bohemia, 13th century Central Europe, a land of dense ancient forests, rolling hills and small, scattered villages. This isn't just medieval Europe in the vague Game of Thrones sense. This is a very real place with a very specific identity. It's part of the Holy Roman Empire, ruled at this time by Autocar II of Bohemia, a powerful king expanding his territory. But most of the people living here don't care about empires. They care about surviving.
Speaker 1:You and your fellow villagers live off the land, growing barley wheat and rye, tending to livestock when you can afford them. You don't own the land. The land owns you, and it's a hard life. You work from sunrise to sunset, your entire world dictated by the changing of the seasons. Winter isn't just cold, it's deadly. If the harvest was bad. People starve. There is no safety net. Your home is small, made of wood and clay, with a thatched roof and a single room where your entire family sleeps, cooks and eats. There's no privacy, but that's not really a concept that exists. Yet Life is communal. Your survival depends on your neighbors as much as your own strength. And yet, despite the back-breaking labor, despite the constant fight to stay alive, there's something even more terrifying than hunger or war or disease there's the unknown.
Speaker 1:Here's the thing about this time period People don't separate the physical world from the spiritual one. If a storm destroys your crops, if a child dies unexpectedly, if you see something move in the trees that shouldn't be there, there is always a reason, and that reason isn't random chance or bad luck. It's the devil or demons or spirits. The Catholic Church is powerful, yes, but Christianity didn't erase older beliefs, it just layered itself over them. Your village still holds on to old pagan traditions, the ones that say certain places are cursed, that spirits can be held at bay with salt and iron, that some land does not belong to humans and that brings us to the pit.
Speaker 1:No one knows how long it's been there deep in the vicious woods. No one remembers a time before people feared it. But there is a gaping hole in the earth in the middle of the forest and it is wrong. There is no bottom. At night, strange sounds rise from its depths Whispers, screams, the rustling of something moving down there too far to see. People claim that things have crawled out of it twisted half-human creatures with black wings and sunken faces. They emerge under the cover of darkness, dragging themselves onto the land, only to vanish before sunrise. No one will settle near the pit. Even hunters don't go near it. And, the worst part, no one knows how far it goes. People have tried to measure it. They've dropped stones, torches, bodies, even Nothing ever hits the bottom.
Speaker 1:And because humanity is nothing if not morbidly curious, someone maybe a local lord, maybe the church, maybe some sick bastard just looking for a thrill comes up with an idea. If this is truly a gateway to hell, why not test it? They take a condemned prisoner, someone already sentenced to death, and offer him a deal. If he agrees to be lowered into the pit and report back what he sees, he'll be set free. Now, if I were this guy, I'd honestly be weighing my options pretty hard here Death by execution or death by whatever the hell lives at the bottom of this thing. But here's the thing. Several people take the deal. They tie a rope around his waist and start lowering him down and within seconds he starts screaming Not just panicked screaming, Blood-curdling, animalistic terror, the kind of screaming that makes your stomach drop, because, whatever he's seeing, his brain cannot process it. They yank him back up and what they pull out of that pit is not the same man they sent down. His hair is white, his eyes are wild, unfocused, his face is twisted in such horror that he can't even speak. They carry him away and he never recovers. He dies days later, still raving about whatever he saw. No one else volunteers to go down after that.
Speaker 1:Now we know that the legend of Hauska's bottomless pit goes back centuries. The villagers believed it was a gateway to hell and that's the version of the story we hear the most A chasm so deep no one could see the bottom, exuding foul air, with creatures crawling out at night. But where did this belief actually come from? Because in the 13th century, fear of hell wasn't just a metaphor To a medieval villager. Heaven and hell weren't abstract ideas, they were physical places, and sometimes those places bled into our world. Deep pits, caves and chasms were seen as portals. Deep pits, caves and chasms were seen as portals, not just in Christianity, but in older pagan traditions as well, places where spirits and demons could cross over. And these beliefs weren't just whispered in villages, they were enforced by the church. Think about it If you're a priest in the Middle Ages and you hear stories of a gaping hole in the earth, spewing smoke and strange noises, where monsters were supposedly crawling out at night, what are you going to assume? You're going to assume it's a hellmouth. Hellmouths were a real, documented belief in medieval theology. They were thought to be physical entrances to hell itself. They were thought to be physical entrances to hell itself. In fact, medieval art is full of horrifying images of beasts and demons emerging from giant gaping mouths in the ground, consuming the damned. So when the villagers of this region refused to go anywhere near Hauska's pit, that fear wasn't irrational to them. It was spiritual survival. And this brings up another question. What if this belief wasn't irrational to them? It was spiritual survival, and this brings up another question. What if this belief wasn't new?
Speaker 1:Because before Christianity ever arrived in Bohemia, this land belonged to older traditions. Pagan cultures saw deep natural formations, caves, chasms and sinkholes as sacred places. Some were used as ritual sites, some were feared as places of dark power, and when Christianity spread through Europe, many of these older beliefs were absorbed and repurposed. A place that was once seen as a dwelling of ancient gods now it's a gateway to hell. A pit once used for ritual sacrifices, now it's a cursed place that must be sealed. So maybe the legend of Hauska Castle wasn't something that started in the Middle Ages, maybe it was something much, much older.
Speaker 1:So now you have a problem. You have a hole in the ground that no one will go near, where monsters supposedly crawl out at night and where that one guy who did get lowered into it came back broken. And in the 1200s, when the church has absolute power, when demons and hell mouths and divine punishment are just part of reality, there is only one thing to do if you can't destroy it, you seal it, and divine punishment are just part of reality, there is only one thing to do If you can't destroy it, you seal it. So a decision was made, or at least so the story goes. A fortress will be built directly over the pit, not for protection, not for war, but as a lid. A chapel is placed directly over the opening, because holy ground has power and if anything tries to crawl out, maybe, just maybe, the weight of God himself will hold it down. They begin construction, stone by stone, sealing the abyss beneath them.
Speaker 1:But here's the question that I keep coming back to Is this all just one big story, a medieval horror tale exaggerated over time, or did these people really see something? Did they know something that we don't? All right, so we know. The land beneath Hauska Castle was feared long before anyone decided to slap a fortress on top of it. We know about the pit, the winged creatures, the prisoner who came back just wrong.
Speaker 1:And here's where things get even weirder. The official story, if you can even call it that, is that Hauska Castle was commissioned in the mid-1200s by Ottokar II of Bohemia, a powerhouse ruler who was out here expanding his kingdom like it was a game of risk. Now, ottokar II loved castles. He built a lot of them, usually for strategic purposes protecting borders, securing trade routes, reinforcing military power. But again, hauska is nowhere near a border. It has no natural defenses. It's not close to any major trade route, river or major city. There was no pre-existing settlement here, no town that needed protecting and no farmland to oversee. It's in the middle of the forest, in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing here, which means the most logical explanation is, as the legend suggests, that Hauska wasn't built for people at all. So what was Hauska really for?
Speaker 1:There's a lot of debate here. Some historians argue that it was just an administrative center for Autokar II's estates, but honestly, that doesn't hold up. Castles built for administration still had kitchens, wells, places to sleep. They weren't built with fake windows and walls designed to reinforce something from the inside. Others say it was a hunting lodge, but again, why fortify it like this? You don't need that much security for a weekend hunting trip. So we're left once again with a question that has haunted this place for centuries Was Hauska Castle built to protect Bohemia or to protect the world from whatever was beneath it? Because if the people who built it truly believed they were sealing away something dangerous, then we have to ask ourselves the next question Did they succeed or did they just make sure that eventually someone would come looking?
Speaker 1:And at the very heart of this fortress, standing directly over the infamous pit itself, is a chapel, and not just any chapel, a chapel dedicated to Archangel Michael. In Christian tradition, michael isn't just some angelic figure floating around playing a harp. He's God's top warrior, the one who leads heaven's armies into battle, the one who is literally described in scriptures as casting Satan out of heaven and into the abyss. Of all the saints, of all the biblical figures they could have dedicated this chapel to, they chose the one whose job is slaying demons. Inside this chapel, things get even weirder Because medieval churches. They follow a formula, standard biblical imagery the usual suspects Jesus, the Virgin Mary, maybe some noble saints looking somber and holy, but here we find something off, a left-handed centaur. Now let's just let's break that down.
Speaker 1:In medieval Europe, left-handedness was often associated with evil. It was unnatural, sinister. Fun fact, the word sinister actually comes from the Latin for left and centaurs. They weren't just mythical figures, they were used as symbols of chaos, paganism, something untamed and dangerous. And this left-handed centaur isn't just chilling, playing a lute or something, it's drawing a bow, aggressive, a figure of attack. Then there's another fresco, one that shows a beast attacking a human. This isn't Christ the Redeemer or saint figures being saintly. This is a warning you don't decorate a chapel like this unless you are telling a very specific story.
Speaker 1:And if we go with the seal theory, that this castle was never meant to house nobles or soldiers or anyone at all, then this chapel isn't just a place of worship. It's part of the prison, a spiritual containment unit, a massive holy lid over something the people of the time believed should not be allowed to roam free. What if they were right? Not be allowed to roam free? What if they were right? All right, so we've established that Hauska Castle was built under extremely questionable circumstances in the 13th century, over a pit that people claimed was literally spewing out winged monsters. We've talked about its bizarre architecture, its lack of basic human necessities and the theory that it was built less like a fortress and more like a giant supernatural pressure seal. But after all that, after all the effort it took to build this thing in the middle of nowhere, what happened next? And the answer is we don't really know.
Speaker 1:This castle just sits there in the historical record for centuries, just existing but not doing much, and to me that's almost creepier than if it had some dramatic, violent history, because castles, especially ones built by powerful kings, usually have a purpose. They see battles, sieges, royal intrigue, but Hauska is suspiciously quiet. Now, that being said, we do have some puzzle pieces to pick through. Who actually lived here? Well, like we've covered, the castle was supposedly used as an administrative center for King Ottokar II's royal estates, which is the medieval equivalent of building an entire office building in the middle of a deserted highway with no roads leading to it. There's no actual evidence of important government work ever happening here, no major decisions, no record of it playing any kind of political role.
Speaker 1:Over time, hauska passed through the hands of different noble families, but most notably the Berke and Duba family, but even they didn't seem to treat it like a real residence no expansions, no renovations to make it more livable, almost like everyone just left it alone. Then the 1600s roll around and things get dark again. Roll around and things get dark again. During the Thirty Years' War, from 1618 to 1648, hauska was reportedly occupied by a Swedish mercenary commander named Oronto. Now, this guy wasn't just a military leader. He was also rumored to be an alchemist and a practitioner of black magic, which I don't know about you. But if I were an aspiring dark sorcerer, a creepy abandoned castle built to seal a literal hellmouth is exactly where I'd set up shop.
Speaker 1:The local villagers were terrified of whatever he was doing in there. Stories spread that he was performing occult rituals, trying to harness the power of whatever was buried beneath. Eventually they'd had enough. Two hunters from a nearby village reportedly broke into the castle and straight-up assassinated him. But I still have questions. What exactly was he doing? That was so bad that two random guys decided he needed to be eliminated. Did they find anything weird inside when they killed him? Did anyone take over his research? We don't have those answers, because after Oronto's death, the castle falls silent again.
Speaker 1:By the 18th century, it's clear that no one is really living here anymore. By the 18th century, it's clear that no one is really living here anymore. The castle falls into disrepair. No one wants to live in a cursed fortress. After all, it's just sitting there, a crumbling, unexplainable landmark full of bad vibes and weird stories. Then, in 1823, someone makes an effort to restore it, likely to preserve its historical significance. Eventually, in 1897, it gets sold to Princess Hohenlohe, a German spy and professional blackmailer, and later, in 1924, it's purchased by Josef Simonek, the president of Skoda Works, one of the largest industrial companies in Czechoslovakia at the time. At this point, it's no longer a functioning castle. It's more of a historic curiosity, something rich aristocrats and industrialists keep in their family because it's old and weird and probably makes for a great conversation starter at dinner parties.
Speaker 1:And then the Nazis show up. And then the Nazis show up. So up to this point, hauska Castle has existed in this weird liminal space between legend and history, a castle that shouldn't be where it is built over a pit that shouldn't exist, with a chapel designed less for worship and more like a spiritual containment unit. But then we hit the 20th century and of all the people in history who could have looked at this ominous, possibly haunted, probably cursed fortress and thought, yes, that is exactly where we need to be. Of course it was the Nazis, and to understand why they set up shop here, we need to talk about something that sounds like it belongs in a conspiracy theory but is absolutely, verifiably true.
Speaker 1:The Nazis were obsessed with the occult, so I need to emphasize this up front. Mysticism and the occult wasn't just a weird side project for them. The belief in supernatural power was woven directly into Nazi ideology. Mysticism, supernatural power and ancient esoteric traditions weren't just tolerated in Nazi leadership. What the Nazis were doing wasn't just about power in the traditional sense. It was about belief, and belief in the wrong hands can be just as dangerous as any weapon.
Speaker 1:If there was one person at the core of this occult obsession, it was Heinrich Himmler. Himmler wasn't just the head of the SS or one of the architects of the Holocaust. He was also a man who saw Nazism as a spiritual movement. He wanted to reshape the world, not just through war and genocide, but by creating a new religion, one that fused, warped interpretations of Germanic mythology, occult rituals and Nazi ideology into one terrifying belief system. And he didn't just talk about it, he built it At Velsberg Castle. Himmler essentially tried to create the SS equivalent of King Arthur's Camelot. This wasn't a military base, it wasn't a government building, it was a temple. The North Tower was meant to be the spiritual center of the SS, a place where high-ranking officers could take part in secretive initiation rituals. The Hall of the Dead contained 12 pedestals meant to hold the ashes of SS officers, creating an almost knightly, supernatural order of fallen warriors. The Black Sun emblem, which still appears in neo-Nazi occult circles today, was embedded into the castle floor. Its origins murky, but likely tied to ancient esoteric traditions. Himmler envisioned the SS as more than just an army. It was a priesthood, a brotherhood of chosen men who would lead a new world order guided by ritual, blood and prophecy, and this wasn't passing interest. This was policy.
Speaker 1:In 1935, the Nazis founded the Annenerbe, an SS think tank that was essentially their version of the X-Files. Officially, their goal was to research the archaeological and cultural history of the Aran race, but in reality they were searching for proof of supernatural power. Their work spanned continents In Tibet, they tried to find evidence that Aryans were descended from an ancient god-like race. In France they searched for the Holy Grail. In Austria they seized the Spear of Destiny, the lance said to have pierced Christ's side because Hitler genuinely believed it had supernatural power. And in the Arctic they investigated the possibility of a lost Aryan homeland, possibly even Atlantis. The Anunnerbe's work directly influenced Nazi military strategy, from astrology-based battle plans to attempts at harnessing supernatural energy for warfare.
Speaker 1:You'd think this level of obsession with the supernatural would be confined to the weirder corners of the Nazi regime, but Hitler himself bought into it. He relied heavily on astrology prophecies and mystical advisors when making military decisions. He was deeply superstitious, reportedly fearing certain relics and objects. He became fixated on historical artifacts, believing they held power that could influence the fate of the war. One of the best documented examples of this was his obsession with the Spear of Destiny. The spear was rumored to grant unstoppable power to whoever possessed it. Hitler, convinced of its significance, ordered it, seized from Austria in 1940 and had it stored in Nuremberg.
Speaker 1:Here's where it gets eerie. Legend has it that whoever loses the spear loses their power. And in 1945, just hours after American forces recovered it, hitler committed suicide. But the fact that Hitler even believed in such a connection tells us everything we need to know. So yeah, when you look at this through the lens of what they actually believed, suddenly the idea of Nazis conducting experiments at Hauska Castle doesn't seem so far-fetched. But what exactly were they doing?
Speaker 1:When the Nazis occupied Czechoslovakia in 1938, they took over Hauska Castle and controlled it until 1945. And here's where things get a little murky, because there is no surviving official documentation that tells us what exactly they were doing inside. But what we have is witness accounts. Locals who lived near Houska reported strange lights coming from the castle at all hours of the night. They heard inhuman screams. Some even claimed that people prisoners were brought into that castle and never seen again. And when the war ended, the Nazis destroyed any records related to their experiments there.
Speaker 1:So let's talk about some theories. Since we don't have direct records, we have to piece together what could have been happening at Hauska based on what we do know about Nazi occult research. First, supernatural experimentation. Given the Hellmouth legend, it's possible that they were trying to tap into something beyond the physical world. Remember, himmler was already experimenting with esoteric rituals, runic magic and ancient religious sites around the world. Were they trying to summon something, perhaps communicate with something? Second is occult warfare research. The Nazis had serious programs investigating psychic abilities, remote viewing and mind control. The idea of using paranormal forces as weapons was not sci-fi to them. It was an actual, they perceived, achievable goal. Perhaps they were using Hauska as a testing ground for something. Even today we still don't fully understand. And the last theory is human experimentation. And the last theory is human experimentation.
Speaker 1:The Nazis had zero hesitation when it comes to using prisoners as lab rats for horrific experiments. If they believed that the pit at Hauska had supernatural properties, were they sending people into it? And no matter what the reality out of these theories might be, what is the worst possibility? What if they succeeded in opening something? And what would happen when they left?
Speaker 1:By 1945, the Nazis abandoned Hauska Castle. They burned records, destroyed evidence and left the site behind, and ever since then the castle has been well different. Visitors report an oppressive atmosphere in the rooms. The Nazis used Strange cold spots, an overwhelming sense that something is still there. Whatever they were doing, whatever they were trying to uncover, they left in a hurry. And another question I keep coming back to in all of this is if they were trying to uncover, they left in a hurry.
Speaker 1:And another question I keep coming back to in all of this is if they were looking for power, if they truly believed Hauska held something dark beneath it. Did they find what they were looking for? Now, take all of this and place it in the context of Hauska Castle, a remote, unsettling fortress rumored to be built over a literal gateway to hell. Are we really supposed to believe? They occupied this place for seven years and were just hanging out? Not a chance. They were looking for something. But whatever the Nazis believed, one thing is clear they didn't think that power came just from weapons and technology. They believed power could be pulled from the ancient, the unseen, the supernatural. When the war was lost, when the Nazis abandoned Hauska and they destroyed the records, why, if this was a military outpost. Why erase the evidence? Unless whatever they found, whatever they tried, whatever happened inside that castle was something they didn't want getting out? And if that's the case, maybe it's still there?
Speaker 1:After it was abandoned in 1945, the castle was returned to the Simenek family, who had owned it before the war. But the world was changing fast and Hauska, already isolated and already strange, became just another forgotten relic of a brutal time in history. It spent the next several decades in a state of limbo. Czechoslovakia fell under communist rule and, like many historical sites, houska wasn't exactly a priority. It wasn't preserved, it wasn't maintained, it just sat there, quiet, aging, waiting. Maybe that's the eerie thing about this period of Houska history. Maybe that's the eerie thing about this period of Hauska history After everything centuries of fear, legends of demons and hellmouths after the Nazis themselves spent seven years inside these walls no one touched it, no one moved in, no one repurposed it, no one ever tried to turn it into anything else. For decades it remained empty. Then, in the 1990s, after the fall of communism, the Simeonek family finally began restoration efforts and in 1999, for the first time in its entire history Hauska Castle opened its doors to the public. Now visitors can walk the same halls where Nazis once conducted their secret experiments. They can stand in the Gothic chapel, the one built directly over the pit. They can even explore the fading medieval frescoes with their unsettling depictions of half-human creatures and pagan symbols.
Speaker 1:Hauska became a legend. There are plenty of haunted places in the world, plenty of castles and ruins with dark histories and whispered ghost stories. But Hauska's is different Because this was never a place for the living, because ever since the war ended, people who visit Hauska have reported that something is still there. The castle has always been strange, a place built for no logical reason on land. People refused to settle over a pit that terrified medieval villagers.
Speaker 1:Spend any time researching Hauska Castle and you'll start seeing patterns in the reports of what happens here. People describe an immediate physical reaction upon entering the castle An oppressive weight on the chest, nausea, dizziness, almost like the castle itself is pressing down on you like it doesn't want you there. Some people report disembodied voices whispering in languages they don't recognize. Others have heard growls coming from rooms that are completely empty. And then there's the figures Not ghosts exactly, at least not in the way most people think about ghosts. The things people see at Hauska don't seem human, shadowy figures that move just at the edge of your vision, dark shapes lurking in doorways watching but never fully stepping into view. A faceless entity that has been seen standing in the castle courtyard staring at visitors before vanishing. And let's not forget the sounds coming from the pit, because, yes, the pit is still there, the chapel was built over it, but that doesn't mean it's gone. Multiple people, including investigators from Ghost, mean it's gone. Multiple people, including investigators from Ghost Hunters International and Expedition X, have reported hearing something moving scratching beneath the floor, a shuffling, scraping sound, sometimes whispers and sometimes a sound that's almost a voice.
Speaker 1:One of the most bizarre and repeated stories at Hauska is the sighting of a bizarre half-human, half-animal creature. One visitor described it as frog-like, another called it humanoid but distorted. It has been seen standing in the courtyard at night watching people, before vanishing into thin air. Now remember, the oldest legends about Hauska claim that winged creatures used to crawl out of the pit at night. The villagers believed these were demons trying to escape from hell. So if people are still seeing something non-human lurking about the castle, what does that mean? And is it possible that whatever the Nazis were doing here reawakened something that had been locked away for centuries. So what did the Nazis unleash?
Speaker 1:The paranormal history of Hauska goes back centuries. People were terrified of this place long before World War II, but the Nazi occupation seems to have made things worse. Seems to have made things worse the sudden increase in shadow figures, disembodied voices, unexplained noises and bizarre sightings. It all started after the war. Did the Nazis try to open the pit, and did they succeed? Because if they did, and if the legends were right about what was trapped inside, then what exactly is still inside Hauska Castle today, after everything? We've uncovered centuries of fear, missing records, unexplainable encounters. The question remains what is Hauska Castle, what really lies beneath its foundation and why, after all this time, does the fear still linger? Let's break it down.
Speaker 1:Here are some of my theories. Number one let's start with the one that made Hauska infamous A true gateway to hell. The oldest stories about this place don't mention kings or castles. They talk about a pit, a hole in the earth so deep no one could see the bottom, A hole where creatures with twisted half-human forms and black leathery wings would crawl out at night. What if we take these stories at face value? What does that mean? Could this really be a hellmouth. The idea of a physical entrance to hell isn't just local folklore. It appears in medieval Christian theology, pagan traditions and stories across centuries and cultures. Maybe Hauska isn't literally sitting over a doorway to hell, but maybe it is sitting over something ancient, something we aren't meant to find. Let's go to another theory. Let's step back even further, before the castle, before the medieval world, before even Christianity ever touched this land.
Speaker 1:Hauska sits in Bohemia, a region with long pre-Christian history. Slavic paganism was alive and thriving long before the Catholic Church arrived, and in many cultures deep pits, caves and chasms were seen as sacred places, places where gods and spirits resided. In many ancient religions, sacrifices were made at openings in the earth because it was believed that those sacrifices would reach the gods or spirits below. It was believed that those sacrifices would reach the gods or spirits below. Could Hauska's infamous pit have once been a place of ritual sacrifice? Maybe what medieval Christians saw as a hellmouth was, to older civilizations, something else entirely not a doorway to hell, but a place of power, a place people worshipped, feared and, maybe through misunderstanding, tried to close. Now, of course, not everyone believes Hauska is sitting over some portal to the underworld. There's another theory, my third one, one that doesn't require demons or ancient rituals. And maybe this so-called bottomless pit was never supernatural after all. Let's take out the demons, the rituals, the winged creatures and ask could this just be a cave, albeit a very deep one?
Speaker 1:The region around Hauska is characterized by limestone formations which are prone to developing karst landscapes, which are terrains distinguished by sinkholes, caves and underground rivers. It's plausible that the chasm beneath the castle is a karst sinkhole, a common geological occurrence in areas with substantial limestone deposits. In such landscapes, carbonic acid in rainwater dissolves the soluble limestone over time. Acid in rainwater dissolves the soluble limestone over time, creating voids that can collapse and form deep pits. These natural processes could explain the formation of a seemingly bottomless pit. Moreover, subterranean gases like methane or hydrogen sulfate can accumulate in these underground spaces. When released, they might produce strange noises and foul odors, potentially giving rise to tales of demonic entities or gateways to hell. It's also worth noting that optical illusions within deep, dark pits can make them appear endless, especially before the advent of modern lighting.
Speaker 1:The human mind seeking explanations for the unknown might interpret these natural phenomena as supernatural. While the geological anomaly theory doesn't capture the imagination, like tales of demons and gateways to the underworld. I suppose it offers a possible rational explanation for the mysterious chasm beneath it. However, the lack of comprehensive geological studies of the site leaves room for speculation. And my last theory takes into account the human side of all this, because sometimes the scariest thing in the world isn't necessarily what's real, it's what we believe.
Speaker 1:Maybe Hauska isn't hiding some ancient horror. Maybe it's just a castle sitting in an unlucky place, wrapped in centuries of fear and fear. Fear has a way of making places feel haunted. A cold draft becomes a ghost, a distant echo becomes a whisper, a shadow at the end of your vision becomes something standing there watching. I suppose we have to take into account the possibility that maybe Hauska isn't supernatural at all. Maybe it's a perfect storm of psychological horror, a place with all the right elements to make the human brain spiral into stories. And yet there are haunted houses, there are cursed lands, and then there's Hauska, a place that feels like it was never meant for us at all. There are places with ghost stories, where the dead refuses to move on, but Hauska's fear is older than death. The fear here isn't about what's lingering, it's about what's locked away, and I suppose what I keep coming back to is this.
Speaker 1:If this was a legend, it would have faded. If this was a story, it would have lost its power. But it hasn't. It has survived kings, wars and occupations. It has survived logic and skepticism. Did they build this castle to trap a story or did they build it to hold something back? And if it's the second, are the bones, the stones still holding? If you're standing inside that chapel staring down at the sealed pit beneath your feet, would you feel it? Would you hear something scratching from beneath the cold stones and, more importantly, would it know that you're there? Thank you, you.