This week on hometown ghost stories. In Trondheim, Norway, the past isn't just remembered. It's alive,

restless and constantly whispering back. From Christianston Fortress, haunted by shadowy soldiers

and lingering screams, to Monkholmen, where spectral monks chant prayers to no one.

The city is filled with hauntings.

Yet nothing compares to Niederos Cathedral,

home to the infamous bloody monk,

whose glowing eyes and grisly wound worn of doom.

Join us as we explore the ghostly legends hiding behind Trondheim's ancient walls.

Hometown ghost stories contains serious and often distressing events and is not intended for all audiences.

Viewer discretion is advised. Pastor Erickson pulled his robe tighter around himself, a futile defense against the bitter

chill that seeped into Niederos Cathedral on this autumn night in 1861.

Lantern in hand, he moved slowly down the dim corridors, the faint glow casting shadows

that danced upon the cold stone walls.

Though he had made these rounds countless times, tonight felt different, as if unseen

eyes watched his every move.

A soft murmur began to drift through the silence, barely audible

at first, but gradually, growing clearer. It was a haunting chant, beautiful, yet unnerving.

Erickson paused, ears straining. The chanting seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once,

neither getting closer nor fading away. With a shaky breath, he pressed on, each step heavier

than the last. The sound continued, guiding, yet misleading him through the cathedral's vast interior.

Turning a corner near the altar, Pastor Erickson stopped abruptly, his blood running cold.

Directly in front of him stood a figure cloaked in the robes of a monk, and they were stained, dark, with what appeared to be

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