Welcome to the paranormal deep dive from Real Ghost Stories Online and the Grave Talks.

There's something about an old pub that seems to soak up history like a sponge.

Every laugh, every whispered secret, every heavy sigh, it all lingers, trapped somewhere

between the worn wooden beams and the stout pints pulled behind the bar.

But what if some of those whispers aren't coming from the living that tucked up against

the stone walls of Glasnivan Cemetery sits John Kavanaugh's, affectionately called the grave diggers

by the locals? Since 1833, it's been a place where the freshly bereaved the grave diggers by the locals. Since 1833, it's been a place where the

freshly bereaved the grave diggers themselves and anyone in need of a quiet pint have gathered.

But not everyone who crosses its threshold leaves by the door, or so the story say.

Patrons have claimed to see an elderly man in a Victorian coat

vanished through a solid wall. Others hear keys jangling behind them with no one in sight.

And then there's the young girl in a nightgown seen wandering between tables before evaporating

into thin air. Is it the spirit of the cemetery seeping into the pub,

or just the creaky tricks of an old building playing on expectant minds? Whatever it is at

John Kavana's, the line between the living and the dead feels a little thinner, and a lot

closer. I'm Tony Bruske. Let's dig in.

The heavy oak door creaks open with a reluctant groan,

as if disturbed from a long, deep sleep.

Step inside, and you're greeted not by blaring music or glowing televisions,

but by the kind of silence that only history knows how to keep. The soft clink of

glasses and low murmurs float through the air at John Kavana's, better known to locals as the

grave diggers. This pub standing proudly beside Glasnevin Cemetery and Dublin, Ireland, has been

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