OK, in 1612, ten people were hanged for the murder by witchcraft of 17 people in the Pendle Hill area. Another woman, Elizabeth Southerns (aka "Demdike") died in prison awaiting trial and another was hanged in Yorkshire. So there were a dozen in all.
One of the condemned, Alice Nutter, is buried in the churchyard in the village of Newchurch-in-Pendle, which is where my family lived just before I was born.
The church has a highly unusual feature set in its tower, called the "Eye of God", which overlooks Alice Nutter's grave. I do have a pic of it somewhere, will post it when I find it. It's nothing spectacular but I have never seen anything like it on a Christian church anywhere. Old churches would often incorporate old pagan symbols, e.g. the green man, into carvings etc. But this was a church built in the 17th century. The locals were obviously afraid of
something if they felt the church needed this additional protection...
Many people, including ones who don't regard themselves as superstitious, have felt very uncomfortable in certain parts of Newchurch, particularly near Alice Nutter's grave (without having been told beforehand about who was buried there) and places associated with Demdike and others. My mum was particularly nervous about one or two places. I've been to that churchyard myself and that grave does have a creepy feel to it (a constant feeling of being 'watched' - and no, I don't mean by the "eye" thingy, although that's a bit creepy too) and I don't even believe in any of this shit.

That's the basic story. 17 people died in allegedly mysterious circumstances around a hill that is often shrouded in mist, adding to the fearful mindset of 17th century village folk, a number of people were accused of witchcraft and were executed or died in jail.
There are all sorts of embellishments, of course, and everyone from the area has their own favourite spooky stories. Pendle Hill's notoriety meant that it had become a magnet for modern-day witches, pagans, occultists and all sorts even before I was born (if you can imagine things going back that far!). Halloween was a major pain in the arse for residents with all these out-of-towners taking over the village for a couple of days apparently. My mum in particular hated it. I guess she might have been one of those anti-Glade people if we lived in Thatcham.

Anyway, I'll close with one spooky story from my dad, who is by no means the superstitious type.
He was driving over Pendle Hill on a night when it was covered in thick fog (quite a regular occurrence). This was a real pea-souper, though, and he could barely see the road. His headlights picked up a dark shape ahead, he could see it was a nun, he could make out the head-dress and quite vividly remembers a silver crucifix round her neck which glinted in the headlights. She was beckoning him over and he stopped. When he got out, he looked for her and couldn't find her anywhere. Then he noticed that the spot where he had seen her standing had a sheer drop and if he'd gone in that direction, he'd be driving the big van in the sky...
