the failed resurrection of Mother Buchan

Fordyce is beautiful. If you had to paint an idyllic Scottish village, it would look exactly like that: stone houses, winding streets and well-kept gardens. There is nothing here that disturbs the idyll, not even a pub. There used to be a boisterous annual market, but not anymore. A small castle on the corner of... Continue Reading →

graves of the unwanted

Craig Dunain, old lunatic asylum Inverness Do places keep a sense of pain, a sense of the fear and anger that was once felt there? Can fear linger in stone and wood? Can a house keep the horror that once was felt there?   Does an abandoned lunatic asylum still hold some sense of insanity?... Continue Reading →

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