Goblins, Knockers, and the Things Beneath Us: Dark Folklore of Underground Beings Worldwide Part 2
Tonight's Episode
Long before UFO sightings and modern paranormal investigations, people across the world were already telling the same story — quietly, carefully, and with fear. Small beings living underground. Knocking sounds in mines. Whistles echoing from caves. Lights that should not be followed. In Part Two of The Strange History Podcast’s exploration of the Goblins of Kentucky, host Amy descends into the darker folklore behind underground humanoid beings found in Appalachian legend, European mining traditions, Icelandic hidden people lore, and global cave mythology. This episode explores why these stories appear across cultures that never met, why they all share the same warnings, and why the creatures are not described as monsters — but as neighbors who expect to be left alone. Once you hear the patterns, you may never look at the ground beneath your feet the same way againBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-strange-history-podcast--5773362/support.
🎧 The Strange History Podcast Love bizarre true stories, forgotten scandals, and history’s most unhinged moments?
Submit your ideas for The Strange History Podcast
Follow The Strange History Podcast wherever you listen and never miss an episode. 🔗 Listen & Subscribe:
Apple Podcasts
Spotify
iHeartRadio
Audible
New episodes regularly. History gets weird here.
Speaker 1: Hello, dear listeners, Welcome back to part two of our
Speaker 1: Goblin series. Tonight, we are not looking up. We are
Speaker 1: looking down, because long before flying saucers, before radar blips
Speaker 1: and grainy footage, people across the world were already telling
Speaker 1: the same story and whispers not about invaders from the sky,
Speaker 1: but about neighbors beneath the ground. Miners, farmers, shepherds, children
Speaker 1: warned by grandparents who would never explain why the rules mattered,
Speaker 1: only that they did. Don't whistle underground, don't throw stones
Speaker 1: into dark holes, and if something knocks you, pretend you
Speaker 1: never heard it. The first sounds In the tin mines
Speaker 1: of Cornwall, men worked in darkness so complete it erased
Speaker 1: the idea of time. Lanterns barely pushed the blackness back,
Speaker 1: the rock pressed close, the earth breathed, and, sometimes long
Speaker 1: before a collapse, miners heard it knocking, soft at first, careful,
Speaker 1: almost polite. At first. They thought it was another crew
Speaker 1: working nearby, but when they called out, no one answered.
Speaker 1: The knocking continued anyway, always ahead of them, deeper in
Speaker 1: the mine. Some miners believed the knockers were warning spirits,
Speaker 1: tapping to save lives. Others believed They were tricksters who
Speaker 1: mimicked sound, lured men into dead tunnels, and hid tools
Speaker 1: for sport. Either way, miners learned to leave offerings, bread
Speaker 1: tucked into crevices, milk poured onto stone, coins left where
Speaker 1: no human hand could reach. Those who didn't tended to
Speaker 1: be the ones whose lamps went out first.
Speaker 2: The hidden people who never left.
Speaker 1: In Iceland, the stories never became folklore. They remained instructions
Speaker 1: the hold of folk. The hidden people were not legends
Speaker 1: meant to entertain. They were neighbors who shared the land,
Speaker 1: but not the rules of visibility. They lived inside hills,
Speaker 1: inside boulders, inside the places humans decided were empty simply
Speaker 1: because they couldn't see inside them. People still reroot roads
Speaker 1: around certain rocks. Construction still halts when machinery breaks repeatedly
Speaker 1: for no clear reason, and when accidents cluster around one place,
Speaker 1: no one laughs it off. They apologize. The hidden people
Speaker 1: are not cruel, but they are old, and old things
Speaker 1: expect respect.
Speaker 2: The ones who whistled back.
Speaker 1: Across Central and South America, parents warned children about the duendes,
Speaker 1: small figures with oversized eyes and backward feet, said to
Speaker 1: live in caves, forests, and abandoned tunnels. They whistled, not cheerfully,
Speaker 1: not loudly, just enough to be followed. Travelers told stories
Speaker 1: of hearing whistles echoing underground, growing closer, then stop abruptly,
Speaker 1: as if something was waiting to see whether curiosity would win.
Speaker 1: Some who followed the sound were found days later, disoriented
Speaker 1: and terrified, unable to explain where they'd been. Others were
Speaker 1: never found at all. Appalachia already knew by the time
Speaker 1: Kentucky was settled, the hills already had rules. In Appalachia,
Speaker 1: people didn't name the underground beings. Naming things invites attention.
Speaker 1: They simply called them them. The little watchers in the hollows,
Speaker 1: the ones who lived beneath the ridges, the knockers who
Speaker 1: answered back if you made too much noise. Underground children
Speaker 1: were taught to step lightly near cave mouths, Hunters were
Speaker 1: warned not to fire into sinkholes, and when dogs refused
Speaker 1: to approach certain places no one forced them. They listened.
Speaker 1: Reframing the goblins of Kentucky, which brings us back to
Speaker 1: Hopkinsville and the strange night in nineteen fifty five, when
Speaker 1: small beings emerged from the woods and stared into windows
Speaker 1: like they were unfamiliar with the concept of glass. The
Speaker 1: so called goblins didn't rush, didn't attack, didn't chase. They hovered,
Speaker 1: peaked withdrew, returned again and again. They behaved less like
Speaker 1: invaders and more like something displaced, something curious about the
Speaker 1: surface but uncomfortable in it, as if whatever had fallen
Speaker 1: from the sky or struck the ground had forced them upward,
Speaker 1: briefly into a world they didn't belong in. When the
Speaker 1: noise became too violent, they retreated downward.
Speaker 3: Tonight's episode is brought to you by Absolutely Not Caving,
Speaker 3: the world's leading underground avoidance lifestyle brand. Have you ever thought, Wow,
Speaker 3: that whole looks interesting.
Speaker 2: Wrong?
Speaker 3: Thought at Absolutely not Caving. We believe caves are just
Speaker 3: basements for things that don't pay rent and don't want roommates.
Speaker 3: Our services include a personal friend who slaps your phone
Speaker 3: out of your hand when you try to google is
Speaker 3: this cave safe? A mobile app that screams nope anytime
Speaker 3: you approach a sinkhole, and our premium feature knock Detection.
Speaker 3: If something knocks underground, we knock you unconscious. With common sense,
Speaker 3: experts agree, nothing good starts with hey let's see what's
Speaker 3: down there. Curiosity did not just kill the cat. It
Speaker 3: also disappeared three miners, a hiker, and that one guy
Speaker 3: who said, watch this absolutely not caving, because if it
Speaker 3: whistles back, you've already made a mistake.
Speaker 2: Why the stories all end the same.
Speaker 1: Way across cultures, centuries, and continents. These stories rarely end
Speaker 1: with victory. They end with silence. People stop digging, stop exploring,
Speaker 1: stop asking questions. Not because the beings leave, but because
Speaker 1: humans learn where the boundary is. Folklore is not a
Speaker 1: warning about monsters. It's a record of consequences. So tonight,
Speaker 1: dear listeners, remember this. Not everything strange comes from above.
Speaker 1: Some things were here first. And if you ever hear
Speaker 1: knocking beneath your feet, not on a wall, not on
Speaker 1: a door, but inside the earth itself, that is not
Speaker 1: an invitation. I'm amy. This has been the Strange History Podcast.
Speaker 1: Sleep lightly, stay on the surface, and let the old
Speaker 1: things keep their dark
Podbean