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Could Junkerngasse be the most haunted street in Bern? From a former monastery that used to be here, locals complained for a long time about the haunting of a monk who committed a sin so grave that neither his body, nor his soul ever left.
Could Junkerngasse be the most haunted street in Bern? From a former monastery that used to be here, locals complained for a long time about the haunting of a monk who committed a sin so grave that neither his body, nor his soul ever left.
Beneath the elegant façades of Bern’s Junkerngasse and its parallel Gerechtigkeitsgasse, now known for its stately houses, flagstone walks, and commanding views of the Aare, lies a buried past of devotion, downfall, and damnation.
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In medieval times, this street, then called Kirchgasse or Church Lane, was the sacred artery of Bern’s religious life. It wound past chapels, cloisters, and courtyards belonging to powerful abbeys. Among these was a quiet but significant property: the Frienisberghaus, the urban residence of the Cistercian monks of Frienisberg Abbey, who came to the city on church business or for rest.
But for centuries after the Reformation, the house was shunned, whispered about, and eventually torn down. It was said to be haunted by a monk, one who carried a sin so grave that death could not bring him rest.
Junkerngasse: Known as one of the most haunted streets in Bern perhaps. A street with a long history, with a new street built on top of what used to be there. Here you se number 57, 55, 53, 51, 49. // Source: Tilman2007/Wikimedia
The Monastery in the City
The Cistercian Order was one of deep discipline and purity, founded on silence, labor, and a vow of chastity. The monks of Frienisberg Abbey, located in the Seeland region northwest of Bern, were among the many religious orders who held property within the city walls. As early as 1285, they owned a house in Bern. In the 14th century, their holdings expanded when the city filled in the old moat of the Nydegg fortress, granting the monks their monastery courtyard next to the Interlakenhaus, the biggest monastery courtyard in the city, a stone’s throw from the Nydeggkirche and what would later become the Nydegg Bridge.
Old Bern: Map of Berne, wooden cut by Hans Rudolf Manuel, 1549. Earliest topographically accurate depiction of Berne.
This was not a grand abbey, but rather a quiet urban refuge, a place to shelter monks traveling from Frienisberg. And yet, in this serene setting, something terrible happened.
Sin in the Cloister
One monk, whose name has been lost to history, committed the unthinkable: he violated a nun, a crime so heinous in the Cistercian world that it still lingers. The details remain vague, but the sin of lust, in a setting that demanded purity, sealed the monk’s eternal punishment.
After the Reformation swept through Bern in the 1520s, the monasteries and their property were dissolved or repurposed. The Frienisberghaus became a state building used for charitable causes, but its halls were never peaceful again.
For years afterward, locals reported that a ghostly monk would wander the courtyard at midnight, his hood drawn low, his feet never touching the ground. He climbed the stairs slowly, mournfully, only to descend again moments later, as if condemned to walk in infinite, unfulfilled penance. His form was pale and nearly transparent, a whisper of cloth and shadow.
Later still, as the house aged and became derelict, the haunting intensified. Groans, sighs, and scraping sounds echoed from the attic. Tools rusted without cause, and workers who tried to repair the building reported a sense of dread they couldn’t shake. During the building’s eventual demolition, something even more sinister was uncovered: a skeleton, walled up in a sealed niche, curled in on itself in a final pose of suffering. His blackened robes and rotted rosary still clung to bone.
It was confirmation of the old fears. Whether buried in secret as punishment or hidden to avoid scandal, this monk had been walled up alive, and his soul had never left.
A vampiric Vrykolakas from Greek folklore was said to terrorize the inhabitants on Mykonos island. To stop the haunting, they exhumed, burned and buried the remains of the body on an inhabited island. But did it work?
As part of the shapeshifting Aswang demons of the Phillipines, the Manananggal was soaring the sky in her bat-like appearance on her hunt for human blood.
After a man died before atoning for his crimes, he came back from the dead as a vampiric Vrykolakas when his wife failed to follow his final wishes. What followed was a month full of terror and haunting.
After terrorizing his village, the Vrykolakas Vampire from Patmos in Santorini were taken to an inhabited island and set on fire. The question is, did it really work?
Fueled by anger and vengeance, the vampiric Churel of South Asian folklore, is said to haunt down men to drain their blood as a vengeful spirit brought back from the dead.
After a humble life as a shoemaker on Santorini in Greece, a man was said to have come back as a Vrykolakas, the vampire of Greek folklore. But for this Vrykolaka, it wasn’t to devour human life that kept him going.
Thought to be haunting the dark seas of the north, the Sea Draug is a ghost of the drowned fishermen’s and other unfortunate souls who perished on the waters.
After tragedy struck and the Titanic sank to the bottom of the Atlantic ocean, the surviving crew members were sent to The Jane Street Hotel in New York. According to stories, they are still haunting the rooms, where the trauma of their tragedy lingers.
Who can be haunting the old Hald Pensjonat in Mandal? Playing soft piano music in the afterlife, and rumours about the footsteps of a Norwegian pirate seems to linger.
Hidden among human society, the vampiric Mandurugo creature is slowly draining her unassuming husbands of their blood and life to sustain her eternal youth and beauty.
The MS Nordstjernen spent decades bringing passengers north across the arctic sea, and although the waters can be brought this far north, it always seemed to reach port unharmed. Some think that it could be Ernst, the ship’s ghosts.
References:
P. Keckeis & M. Waibel, Legends of Switzerland. Bern, Zurich 1986