Delve into the eerie tales of spirits that roam the Mountain State’s overlooked corners, from haunted bridges to spectral miners.

If you’ve spent much time in West Virginia, you know the land holds stories. Not just about coal and mountains, but about things that can’t be explained. Everyone’s heard of the Mothman or the Greenbrier Ghost, but there are quieter hauntings tucked into backroads, old mining towns, and forgotten cemeteries. These are the stories that locals tell over coffee or whisper at the end of a shift. If you’re curious and willing to explore, you might just hear something you weren’t supposed to.

The Ghost of Silver Run Tunnel

Just off Route 50 in Ritchie County, you’ll find the Silver Run Tunnel—an old railroad tunnel that hasn’t seen a train in decades. What it has seen, according to locals, is a ghost.

The story goes back to the late 1800s. Train engineers started reporting a woman standing on the tracks near the tunnel entrance. Dressed in white and unmoving, she would appear out of nowhere, and just as suddenly vanish. One report came from an engineer who swore he hit her. But when he stopped the train and ran back, she was gone. No sign of injury, no footprints, just silence.

There are no official records of a woman dying on that stretch of track. Some say she was on her way to a wedding. Others believe she was murdered and dumped near the tunnel. Either way, several people over the years have claimed to see her—always at night, always alone.

If you visit, don’t expect signs or tour guides. The tunnel’s not maintained, and it’s easy to miss. But stand there long enough and you might understand why folks avoid it after dark.

The Lost Miners of Kaymoor

Deep in the New River Gorge near Fayetteville, the remains of Kaymoor Mine cling to the hillside. Once a booming coal operation, it’s now a rusting ruin. The hike down is steep, and the air gets colder the farther you go. Locals say it’s not just the altitude.

Old miners who worked there claimed they sometimes heard voices echoing from shafts that had been sealed off. One man, a foreman back in the 1950s, said he saw lights in a closed tunnel and went to investigate. He found nothing. But the lights kept returning, flickering like lamps swinging in the dark.

Park rangers have brushed it off as reflections or bats. But longtime residents tell another story: that a crew of miners died in a collapse in the lower levels. Their bodies were never recovered. Some believe the lights and sounds are the spirits of men who never clocked out.

Today, the site is part of the National Park Service. The hike to the mine ruins is about a mile, and well worth it if you’re into history—or the paranormal. Just keep an eye out when the fog rolls in.

The Weeping Woman of Stotesbury

Stotesbury is barely a town now. Once a thriving coal camp in Raleigh County, it’s down to a few houses and a church. But near the old rail yard, there’s a story folks still talk about: the Weeping Woman.

She’s said to walk the tracks just before sunrise, head bowed, hands clasped like she’s praying. Some say she cries for her husband, killed in a train accident. Others believe she lost a child in a house fire nearby.

What makes her story stick is that several people claim to have heard her before they saw her—soft crying, always from a distance. Then she appears, walks a short way down the track, and disappears.

One man who grew up in the area said he saw her as a teenager while sneaking out one morning to go hunting. “She didn’t look at me,” he said. “But I felt like she knew I was there.”

There’s no marker or monument. But if you ask around in Beckley or Eccles, you’ll find someone who knows where to look.

The Spirits of Droop Mountain Battlefield

Droop Mountain, in Pocahontas County, was the site of a Civil War battle in 1863. Today it’s a quiet state park with picnic tables and hiking trails. But at night, park workers and visitors have reported strange things.

Some say they’ve heard drumbeats in the woods or smelled gunpowder with no one else around. Others talk about a soldier in gray who stands near the observation tower before vanishing into the trees.

One park ranger, who worked there for over a decade, said the strangest thing he saw was a campfire burning deep in the woods—with no one nearby. When he went to investigate, the fire disappeared. “Not burned out,” he said, “just gone.”

If you visit, go during the day. The view from the top is worth the trip. But ask the staff if they’ve had any odd sightings. You might be surprised by what they’re willing to share.

Why These Stories Matter

You might wonder what keeps these stories alive. Why do people still tell them?

Part of it is tradition. In small towns, stories are a way of remembering—not just the dead, but the way things used to be. A mine collapse, a train derailment, a lost loved one—those events shape a place. The ghost stories grow from them.

But there’s more. These tales speak to something we all feel: a sense that not everything is explainable. That sometimes, the past refuses to stay buried.

So the next time you’re driving through West Virginia and see an old bridge, a tunnel, or an abandoned building, ask yourself: What happened here? What stories haven’t been told?

And more importantly—are you ready to listen?