L-R: "Sugar Creek" artist Brent Bowman with Yours Truly at Small Press & Alternative Comic Expo, sporting some new cover art. Salvete!
I hope spring has finally arrived for you as it has for me. The Amiculus Books show year is going swimmingly, with three shows so far under the belt (like SPACE, the show pictured) and many more to come!
I've already revealed the local Ohio history and concept behind my new horror project, Sugar Creek, but there's another more far-flung history that I'd like to touch on that was heavily influential to this project: a celebrated three hundred year-old battle in Scotland that, according to legend, created one of the most uniquely haunted places in the British isles.
I hope spring has finally arrived for you as it has for me. The Amiculus Books show year is going swimmingly, with three shows so far under the belt (like SPACE, the show pictured) and many more to come!
I've already revealed the local Ohio history and concept behind my new horror project, Sugar Creek, but there's another more far-flung history that I'd like to touch on that was heavily influential to this project: a celebrated three hundred year-old battle in Scotland that, according to legend, created one of the most uniquely haunted places in the British isles.
Redcoats and Highlanders clash at Killiecrankie, July 27, 1689. There's something about Scottish ghost stories that send an extra shiver up my spine. The story of the Pass of Killiecrankie in Scotland holds a particularly special place for me, though. This was the site of the ferocious Battle of Killiecrankie in 1689, One of the major engagements of the First Jacobite Rising, it pitted the government troops of King William III against Scottish loyalists of the overthrown King James II. Twenty-four hundred Jacobite (after James) soldiers clashed with a government force of 3500, resulting in a total Jacobite victory. It was over in just 30 minutes, and the Williamites were routed, suffering over 2000 casualties. However, the Jacobite forces suffered a terrible toll as well, losing close to 800 of their own men and their leader, the Viscount Dundee.
| The victory became a major source of Scottish national pride, and inspired a poem, "The Braes o' Killiecrankie," that was later turned into a really rousing folk song. The version at left, by The Corries, is probably my favorite. (I liked it so much that I even named two characters in Sugar Creek after The Corries.) This was not the only legacy of Killiecrankie, however. The sudden, savage and intense violence inflicted upon the Pass was said to have changed it, permanently scarring the place and turning it into a truly haunted site in more ways than one. | |
"Though I might not have come back at all if I'd known how cheaply this hack was going to render me..."John Graham of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee. The hauntings at Killiecrankie began even before the battle. During the stormy night prior to the battle, the Jacobite commander Dundee was visited by a terrifying, bloody apparition that some later claimed was the Devil himself. The figure gave Dundee a premonition of his own death in the Pass the following day. Not to be outdone, Dundee's own ghost was said to have appeared to a Scottish laird who had not made it to Killiekrankie at the moment Dundee died.
The most memorable haunted elements of the story, however, accumulated over the next three centuries. Centered around the anniversary of the battle (July 27), ghostly occurrences include a baleful red light that hung over the battle site, and grass that would suddenly turn red and sticky with ancient blood. Footfalls, cries and musket shots would be heard all around. Phantom regiments appear in the woods, fighting and dying all over again. The ground would become littered with the ghosts of the fallen, and their cries and groans would echo through the dark.
The most memorable haunted elements of the story, however, accumulated over the next three centuries. Centered around the anniversary of the battle (July 27), ghostly occurrences include a baleful red light that hung over the battle site, and grass that would suddenly turn red and sticky with ancient blood. Footfalls, cries and musket shots would be heard all around. Phantom regiments appear in the woods, fighting and dying all over again. The ground would become littered with the ghosts of the fallen, and their cries and groans would echo through the dark.
But for those who witnessed the apparitions of Killiecrankie, the worst part for them all was the appearance of the girl.
The girl is the most commonly-sighted spirit at the battle site, and the most terrifying. She is described as pale, with long, black hair, walking among the fallen bodies with a wicker basket on her arm. She immediately begins stripping bodies of valuables, cutting off fingers to retrieve rings and driving her dagger into any wounded who are still alive. Pure darkness appears to swirl behind her eyes.
It is suggested by some that she is the specter of a scavenger, who looted battlefields like vultures after armies had passed on. Others suggest she is something much more ancient, and powerful. Whatever she is, the fear she inspires comes from the fact that she seems aware that the living are watching her. Sometimes she turns to look at them, sizing them up with a cruel smile. She even moves toward them, knife raised. One terrified cyclist found her running toward her, full-out, shrieking and brandishing her knife, before disappearing at the last moment. In every encounter, her appearance brings with it a new level of malevolence and dread, as if she has stepped out of the past to continue violence upon the living.
The girl is the most commonly-sighted spirit at the battle site, and the most terrifying. She is described as pale, with long, black hair, walking among the fallen bodies with a wicker basket on her arm. She immediately begins stripping bodies of valuables, cutting off fingers to retrieve rings and driving her dagger into any wounded who are still alive. Pure darkness appears to swirl behind her eyes.
It is suggested by some that she is the specter of a scavenger, who looted battlefields like vultures after armies had passed on. Others suggest she is something much more ancient, and powerful. Whatever she is, the fear she inspires comes from the fact that she seems aware that the living are watching her. Sometimes she turns to look at them, sizing them up with a cruel smile. She even moves toward them, knife raised. One terrified cyclist found her running toward her, full-out, shrieking and brandishing her knife, before disappearing at the last moment. In every encounter, her appearance brings with it a new level of malevolence and dread, as if she has stepped out of the past to continue violence upon the living.
I first read about this haunting in middle school, and the story has stuck with me ever since. It was the first place I came across the theory that spectral battlefields might be places so afflicted with trauma that, like a mind with PTSD, it is compelled to repeatedly replay the traumatic incident, soaked up in the rocks, trees and ground itself. The wrinkle added by the girl suggests what could happen when a place is not merely scarred by violence, but enticed by it as well.
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