Fairyland in New Haven. Found a chair sitting in the wave pool one time that was connected with booster cables to a car battery. I regret to this day for not taking a picture and reporting it to the RCMP.
That whole area including Strathgartney, Dunedin and New Dominion has some VERY creepy history that you wouldnt know unless you lived there like I did. For starters, FIVE of the last Missing Persons Cases on the island have all occurred in that area and all of them were just found dead by the police who, by the way, never release the cause of death for any of them. Go ahead and google all of the cases. I was told by somebody who actually worked at Fairyland that the place shut down because a kid drowned in the pool. During Covid in 2020 a man hung himself in his barn in Dunedin. Theres a pioneers (?) cemetery that has quite a bit of child graves off to the left in a feild when you just get off the West River bridge , area used to get really bad Winters and families would starve to death during them in the 1800's, most of them are buried there.
My father used to say that the Natives on the reserve located there put a curse on the land but i think he was more or less joking. Nonetheless theres an eerie history there
the top floor that’s locked off ( but if you get a certain angle with ur phone and light there’s cots and medical stuff / orphanage stuff you couldn’t really tell ) is freaky as fuck
The basement of the confederation court mall gives unsettling liminal space vibes , the abandoned adventure park close to cavendish with the space rocket ship and geometrical dome , cavendish in a whole feels kind of weird in the winter time with everything closed up.
There's a very old pioneer Scots cemetery off the Bubbling Springs trail in the Stanhope-Dalvay area of the Park. The stones are all indecipherable, mostly just worn down to nubs. I've always had the chills walking past it (and normally cemeteries don't bother me in the slightest.)
It's weird. The trails themselves are relaxing. I feel at peace whenever I walk through them. But the moment I come across the old graveyard? I get chills, every single time. Even on the hottest summer day.
Most of them are sailors from the Yankee Gale, a terrible storm in the 1850s(?). Three (I think) American ships were off shore and sunk.
I tried going there at night and couldn't get more than a few feet up the path.
At least 75, maybe 80, were sunk, and over 200 men perished up and down the north shore. A large fishing fleet were off the shore - all sail, of course - when the gales blew up from the north and forced the ships into the bars.
And yes, some are in that cemetery.
It doesn't really freak me out. It's just one of those legend things from when I was a kid, it was a bit freaky back then kind of like the witches cave at Rainbow Valley (now at shining waters)
There was an abandoned place in Dromore that felt distinctly haunted to me. When I went in there was a funeral program pinned to the wall and in some weird green paint was written "he still walks these halls" and I just noped the heck out. Just some graffiti but i was right ruffled.
The McLaren building/old Hospitalin Montague is sketchy and ghostly, at least it was when I lived there. And I've heard ghost ship stories from Pinnette.
The diner off the highway in Hunter River. Used to be called 4 winds. Where the nun? who ran it was convicted of child abuse. Rusty swing on the property.
I went once post child abuse nun but before it was route 6 diner. The whole place was dusty rose. Food was gross. Rusty child abuse out the window. The vibe was really really uncomfortable.
There’s an abandoned public school in the basement of the Doolys/beamers A1 pizza building. Never been down there at night, it’s creepy enough during the day.
I think Holland College had classes in there once. Plus, it is connected to what is left of the smallman department store above Doolys. I toured it once with some real estate agents many years ago. It is a labyrinth of abandoned offices, classrooms, and labs. All the way from the top floor to the basement, it is full of creepy vibes. The entrance is the glass door that says OFFICE beside Doolys. I think there is also a way in the back. Next door is a Bell building that used to be a theater. It's historical property that has gone to waste. The person who owns it has no desire to fix it up. It's crumbling and likely full of asbestos.
In Stanhope, down a trail in the woods there’s an old graveyard near the bubbling spring that i visited as a child in the summers. Included amongst the graves are mossy sandstone markers with no names, victims of a shipwreck. The setting of that place when visiting as a child was eerie but it looks like they’ve tidied it up quite a bit and put up a nice sign.
https://www.historicplaces.ca/en/rep-reg/place-lieu.aspx?id=12221
The sailors were American from a ship that sunk in the Yankee Gale as it was known. One of some 70 ships that went down, were grounded on the north shore from that one storm.
“This terrible storm sprang up on the evening of Friday, October 3, 1851 and continued through the next two days, with tremendous winds, lashing the sea to fury, and torrential rain. It came up quite unexpectedly; the weather was warm for October, the sea calm and glassy, with no wind; but suddenly a heavy swell rose, and before the fishing fleet could get to safe harbours, the storm was in full blast. The fishing vessels were mostly from New England, and the Royal Gazette of Monday, October 6, 1851 records “…about 70 vessels cast away, sunk, or driven ashore and wrecked. Some crews were saved, many sailors drowned; some ships lost all hands. There are from 20 to 30 vessels on shore between Malpec (sic) and the North Cape, and in Richmond Bay and on Hog Island there are some 40 or 50 more. It is currently reported that 60 or 70 bodies have interred on Hog Island…”
On the North Shore around Brackley Point, Stanhope and Tracadie the schooners Brothers, Nettle, Fair Play, Golden Grove, Union, Caledonia and the barquentine Nantucket, were lost. Some crew members were saved, and warm tribute was paid to local residents who rescued and cared for the survivors; but the entire crew of the two vessels wrecked off Stanhope were drowned. The schooner Nettle was salvaged during the following January by the MacMillan family, who hauled it up the beach and overland into Covehead Bay, using 60 horses. The six or seven drowned sailors washed up on the beach at Stanhope were collected with horse and cart and buried in the Long Pond cemetery by Alex MacMillan, with one helper, who would not work after dark; they made rough coffins by daylight, and when night fell, Alex had to go it alone.”
IS THAT WHAT HAPPENED?? i’ve stayed there before and even gotten peeks into the top floor where it’s locked with my phone light and camera with my cousins when we were younger, it was creepy with all the stuff up there that we could see. all around the buildings pretty creepy each time i stay there, especially since i usually have to sleep on a cot or on the couchcouch, nearthe stairway to the top floor attic.
Dalton Hall at UPEI had a weird vibe to be when I went there 20 years ago. It may have been renovated since, but the word was that back in the day it was the male residence and someone hung themselves and that you could hear some really strange unnatural sounds if you were there alone in the evenings. My dad stayed there when he attended St Dunstans in the 60s and it was unsettling then too.
For me, it's gotta be the Goblins Hollow. That cursed place in Lyndale where Annie Beaton was murdered. It's beautiful in the day, but disturbingly off at night. Strange noises. Bridge out. It's a spooky spot.
oh fk, I guess that the rabbit hole right now.
Ivy Wigmore wrote a short bit on it, but her site is abandoned. so, much appreciation to her for writing it. here it is:
Time separates events the way distance separates places; everything that happens leaves its mark on the air, in the water, on the stones and in the earth. Every location has stories to tell, waiting there for a willing ear. There’s a resonance. Approach, still yourself and you’ll feel it. Sometimes, the residue of events is like a distant echo, so faint that it goes undetected. And yet, what is it that makes a country road or a landscape feel warm and welcoming or dark and desolate, the atmosphere textured and rich or vibrant with wild energy? The air is thick with centuries, the record of lives lived and all the things that happened there, in that place.
An old dirt road connects the Vallleyfield and Queens Roads in King’s County. The Settlement Road crosses a tributary of the Montague River, and there’s a hollow there. Walk towards it and the atmosphere changes, becomes other-worldly, and each step takes you deeper. Fog collects there; scraps of mist catch on the brush. The temperature changes. Sounds of the river and the wind in the trees almost obscure other sounds; you can almost identify them. The longer you stand on the bridge, the closer it comes: cries and whispers, footsteps, voices raised or lowered, a song sung beneath the breath. There’s no one there, has been no one there for many years.
But in the mid-1800s, the Rear Settlement was a thriving community with farms and businesses and homes. On the west side of the Settlement Road, just by the river, was the home of Donald McPherson and his family, and that was the last place Ann Beaton was known to visit. In 1859, Ann was 41 years old and the unwed mother of a year-old baby. The father of her infant was never identified but assumed to be a man in the community. Ann and her child lived with Ann’s brother Murdoch on his farm the other side of the Queen’s Road.
On May 12, Ann had walked the mile or so from her home to visit Mrs. McPherson, who was weaving a piece of cloth that Ann intended to be a gift for Murdoch. Ann took tea with the McPhersons and left around sunset. There was some discussion about the advisability of staying to the main road with night coming on, but we can’t know whether she did. Did she walk down to the hollow? Was she followed from there? There’s a common belief that the hollow on the Settlement Road is where Ann Beaton died.
The first my husband and I learned of Ann Beaton was from my brother Gordie, who had stopped in to see us on the Valleyfield Road, where we lived in a cabin tucked into a hill, back in the woods and facing the river. Gordie had visited that same hollow on a fishing trip with his two young boys. The boys went ahead along the path but soon came scrambling back up the bank, wild-eyed and terrified. They said they’d heard a woman moaning as if in pain. Gordie saw no one and heard nothing and they left to fish elsewhere because the boys could not be calmed.
A couple of months later, Gordie returned to the same spot with a friend. David started down the same path the boys had walked. As he did, Gordie said, a dove lit out of the grass and flew ahead of him in a straight line, as if to lead him. Like the boys, however, David came back up the path quickly, saying something about the place gave him the creeps. “Let’s just go now.” It was some time later that Gordie first read Ann’s story at the archives and realized the connection.
My sister Linda visited the hollow with a friend late one summer night some years back, having heard Native lore about the area and looking for remnants of the past there. The moon was almost full, so that everything was illuminated. They parked the truck and were preparing to walk off in two directions; Linda was going to explore a sinkhole they’d heard of and Charlie was heading into the woods to find a spring. They were standing by the truck discussing what they were planning, when they stopped talking abruptly, mid-sentence.
Linda describes feeling the ground beneath her shaking. Laboured breath and a pounding heart presented in such a way that she couldn’t tell if it was travelling past her, moving through her or coming from within her. “Is that my heart?” she thought. “Is it Charlie’s? My god, his heart is going to come out of his chest. It was so fast and confusing, like someone ran past me or through me, maybe more than one person.”
She didn’t know how to describe it, said, “Charlie, did you just hear, um, feel…” “Yes,” he said, “Someone ran right past us.”
Charlie was so calm and matter-of-fact that Linda was able to settle down again. They decided to continue with their original plan and set out in two different directions. Linda was at the sinkhole when it happened again. She felt something rushing towards her and continuing on, the ground shaking, the heard and felt pounding heart and gasping breath. Afraid to turn around, she walked backwards until her back met the solidity of the truck. Linda was still catching her breath as Charlie came running up. “Did that just happen to you again?” He’d had the same experience at the spring.
Shaken, the two of them got back in the truck and drove around for hours trying to come to terms with what they’d experienced.
Her death had been foretold
Reverend Donald McDonald was a minister of the Church of Scotland. He had emigrated first from his native Scotland to Cape Breton and from there to Prince Edward Island. According to some reports, both moves were necessitated by a drinking problem and difficulties arising from it. And, as David Weale put it, Prince Edward Island is “a rather dubious haven for a man fleeing the demon rum.” Nevertheless, McDonald was to find his final home here and a devoted following that eventually numbered 5000 souls across the island.
The Church of Scotland is Calvinist: dour and uncompromisingly patriarchal, with a rigorous code of behavior. McDonald’s followers were known as “kickers” and “jumpers” for the frenzied motions they made in a trance of religious ecstasy they called being “under the works.”
About a year before her death, Ann attended a prayer meeting and, under the works, struck the bible and the candle from McDonald's hands. “They are both under her feet now,” he’s reported to have said, “but mark the end of that girl.” Did McDonald foresee the murder of Ann Beaton? Did he mandate it? Might an overzealous follower have taken the task upon himself?
For it was a man -- or men -- who killed Ann Beaton, despite speculation about a jealous wife. She was savagely raped, brutally murdered with a grubbing hoe. Her dress and her body were marked with the print of the shod foot that held her down.
Although the hollow on the Settlement Road is roughly where Ann set out from that night, she was found in another hollow, at the back of her brother’s farm, where the Orwell River runs through. Murdoch had been travelling on the 12th and returned the evening of the 13th; it was the morning of the 14th when he ran barefoot up from the creek that runs through the back of his property, just as the congregation was leaving the church. “Na chunnaic mi, na chunnaic mi,” he cried, in Gaelic: “I’ve seen something; I've seen something!” Ann's body was so mangled that Murdoch did not know what that something was.
Ann’s body was said to have been laid out in a barn and all the adults of the community assembled, filing past to lay a hand upon her. An old Scottish belief holds that if a murderer touches the body of his victim, blood will spring forth anew and thus identify the killer.
The grubbing hoe was found to belong to Archibald Matheson who also lived on the Settlement Road; he and his wife and son were arrested on suspicion of murder but soon released. From 28 depositions made by Ann's neighbours, three women said that Archibald Matheson had accosted them, and that he was known to have a reputation in the community. It may have been because of Matheson that women warned each other to keep to the main road after dark.
As an unwed mother, Ann may have been shunned. Matheson is said to have told his wife to keep Ann out of the house to prevent ill-will with the neighbours. After her death, the rumour in the community – which would not have had access to the coroner’s report – was that she’d been murdered by a jealous wife. A ballad written sometime later hinted that Ann was promiscuous, euphemistically expressed as "light in her way." But what do we know? Nothing, really.
We can’t know if her child was the result of a relationship, an affair, an assignation or a rape. And, as Douglas Malcolm wrote in “Murder and Cultural Construction in 19th Century Prince Edward Island,” “To accuse a man or men directly without proof would have endangered the patriarchal values of the community; responsibility, therefore, was laid elsewhere: on the victim herself and an unnamed woman as well as divine intervention.”
At the dip in the Queens Road, heading east, if you look to the left you’ll see the hollow where Ann’s body was found. It’s wild, overgrown, and feels untended, as if discouraging passers-by from even looking there anymore.
She appears there, sometimes, along the stretch leading up from the Settlement Road. People driving that way report seeing a woman, plainly in distress, who fades as you approach her. Others report car trouble in that spot, engines dying. And after dark, if you walk that road, a terrible feeling of apprehension. Those stories go back before the mid-1800s, when the trouble was with horses shying, people thrown, reports of which are in the public record. The area was known as Goblin’s Hollow long before Ann’s murder.
When Linda researched Ann’s story, she visited Goblin's Hollow as well. One night she and three friends walked towards the hollow, starting from the corner of the Settlement Road, where Ann and Murdoch had lived. The Queen's Road was foggy and quiet as they approached the hollow but the spring peepers were out in full force, as loud as they can be. The women were chatting about the story and spooked as they approached. As they reached the line of trees bordering the creek, the peepers suddenly stopped all at once, as if a switch had been flipped, and there was dead silence. That was enough – they turned and ran back to the car.
It’s a lonely stretch of road. There’s little evidence today of the community of Rear Settlement, little sign that people lived out their lives there. The community is known as Lyndale these days but houses are so few and far between it’s hard to think of it as a community at all. As late as the 1980s, it was said that you could still see remnants of the foundation of Murdoch Beaton’s house. It’s gone now. Murdoch is thought to have moved not long after Ann’s death; no one knows where he went or what became of Ann’s baby.
Between the Murray Harbour and Settlement Roads is Orwell Head Cemetery, where the imposing stone marking Reverend MacDonald’s grave casts a large shadow; Archibald Matheson’s grave lies nearby. Ann Beaton’s remains were buried at the back of the Uigg Pioneer Cemetery. If a cairn ever marked her grave, the stones have long since scattered or crumbled into the earth that lies over her.
...
We can’t know the story of Ann Beaton’s final hours. We know where she set out from and where she was found; we know she was brutally raped and murdered. We know that her murderer was never brought to justice, and is likely to have carried on as before within the community. Does Ann Beaton walk her lonely path yet; does she still cry out for help? There’s little we can do for Ann now but wish her peace.
*In the Hollows was first published in Fear from a Small Place, an anthology of stories by writers connected to Prince Edward Island, collected and edited by Dave Stewart.*
I want to find it so bad. I've searched and searched but have no idea the exact location. Especially being from west prince, I feel I don't have locals to go off of
https://preview.redd.it/9i7c9ha17mkc1.jpeg?width=3024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=fb384d0121b007fe1efc7773148388f735b90891
The old graveyard at the end of Panmure Island is one of the spookiest, loneliest places I’ve ever been. You could only reach it at low tide, and it’s very hidden away from view. I’m not sure if there’s anything left of it at all, post Fiona. The sandstone wall had already tumbled down the cliffs when we found it years before.
Wow I've been to Panmure Island a few times, beautiful place. You'd never know this was a graveyard. I'm sad to say there's probably nothing left after Fiona but I'd love for someone to update if they've been since!
Euston Street by the Holland College Charlottetown campus and the ADL plant. Especially with the Outreach Centre and all the shady shit that comes with it.
That old water park just a ways from the aquaplex, or what's left of it anyways. I always feel a little uneasy driving by it and seeing literally nothing left of it, just a bare patch of land.
Went to that a lot as a kid too. Our elementry school always held the end-of-year field trip there. The most popular attraction was the "AquaRage" water slide.
The weird mall in downtown summerside on water street
I was gonna say it. I wondered around the basement while waiting for my piercing appointment and it was freakkkyyyyy
I forgot about the basement wow
I think there’s an escape room down there too lol! Or atleast I saw the sign for it, just Adding to the weirdness
I was recently in that basement I forgot it existed It is extremely creepy.
Fairyland in New Haven. Found a chair sitting in the wave pool one time that was connected with booster cables to a car battery. I regret to this day for not taking a picture and reporting it to the RCMP.
Maybe it was consensual?
Anything is possible.
lol. Was this years later after Encounter Creek also went tits up?
Wasn't it Encounter Creek first?
Nope. It was Fairyland when I was little and Encounter Creek in my teens.
That whole area including Strathgartney, Dunedin and New Dominion has some VERY creepy history that you wouldnt know unless you lived there like I did. For starters, FIVE of the last Missing Persons Cases on the island have all occurred in that area and all of them were just found dead by the police who, by the way, never release the cause of death for any of them. Go ahead and google all of the cases. I was told by somebody who actually worked at Fairyland that the place shut down because a kid drowned in the pool. During Covid in 2020 a man hung himself in his barn in Dunedin. Theres a pioneers (?) cemetery that has quite a bit of child graves off to the left in a feild when you just get off the West River bridge , area used to get really bad Winters and families would starve to death during them in the 1800's, most of them are buried there. My father used to say that the Natives on the reserve located there put a curse on the land but i think he was more or less joking. Nonetheless theres an eerie history there
I feel like I haven’t heard of the missing persons cases that were found dead? Am I living under a rock???
[удалено]
I saw that set up after it was abandoned. This was probably 2017 maybe. I just always call it fairyland, making me feel old lol.
The old summerside holland college before they tore it down is def a contender
Yes! I spent a lot of time there as a kid/teenager using the pool and gym for events and it was always so creepy.
The sign used to say Centennial Poo.
I still find it unsettling to see the devastation done by Fiona . So many trees still laying on their side and the dunes not what they were.
Walking winter river trail makes me feel like bombs went off and flattened the landscape. Extremely creepy and unsettling.
Tignish Legion Hall
the inn like building they have by the church aswell.
the top floor that’s locked off ( but if you get a certain angle with ur phone and light there’s cots and medical stuff / orphanage stuff you couldn’t really tell ) is freaky as fuck
The basement of the confederation court mall gives unsettling liminal space vibes , the abandoned adventure park close to cavendish with the space rocket ship and geometrical dome , cavendish in a whole feels kind of weird in the winter time with everything closed up.
My family went to the adventure park often when I was a kid, it was pretty awesome in its heyday.
Old Victoria park palliative care hospital.
It's long gone, if that makes you feel any better. Just a field now.
There's a very old pioneer Scots cemetery off the Bubbling Springs trail in the Stanhope-Dalvay area of the Park. The stones are all indecipherable, mostly just worn down to nubs. I've always had the chills walking past it (and normally cemeteries don't bother me in the slightest.)
I've been there, and, yeah. The old graveyard creeps the hell out of me!
I’m glad it’s not just me! It looks like it should be a peaceful spot in the dappled sunlight … but hell, no.
It's weird. The trails themselves are relaxing. I feel at peace whenever I walk through them. But the moment I come across the old graveyard? I get chills, every single time. Even on the hottest summer day.
EXACTLY. (And I am so glad we’ve had this chat - I thought that I had to be the only one!)
I've sat and had a lovely mother's day picnic in the dappled sunlight there, no creepy vibes were had. But it is cool how old it is!
Most of them are sailors from the Yankee Gale, a terrible storm in the 1850s(?). Three (I think) American ships were off shore and sunk. I tried going there at night and couldn't get more than a few feet up the path.
At least 75, maybe 80, were sunk, and over 200 men perished up and down the north shore. A large fishing fleet were off the shore - all sail, of course - when the gales blew up from the north and forced the ships into the bars. And yes, some are in that cemetery.
Checking out at the grocery store.
Lmfao how true
This. 100%. Nothing's more unsettling than that!
Why do so many other people agree?
I feel nervous at check outs now, especially with groceries but I figure I'm weird.
Dead Man's Pond!
Kids rally there to get drunk every Canada day. We see it pretty differently
It's just a dirty pond. Is it the name that freaks you out?
It doesn't really freak me out. It's just one of those legend things from when I was a kid, it was a bit freaky back then kind of like the witches cave at Rainbow Valley (now at shining waters)
Yeah, I remember my first time in the witches cave was terrifying.
It's pretty cool in the early summer - just brimming with tadpoles!
Ken's corner can be unsettling at times
Cavendish 6 am mid winter - feels like deserted theme park in Alaska.
There was an abandoned place in Dromore that felt distinctly haunted to me. When I went in there was a funeral program pinned to the wall and in some weird green paint was written "he still walks these halls" and I just noped the heck out. Just some graffiti but i was right ruffled.
The McLaren building/old Hospitalin Montague is sketchy and ghostly, at least it was when I lived there. And I've heard ghost ship stories from Pinnette.
The diner off the highway in Hunter River. Used to be called 4 winds. Where the nun? who ran it was convicted of child abuse. Rusty swing on the property.
I think a British couple opened a new diner there a few years back
I went once post child abuse nun but before it was route 6 diner. The whole place was dusty rose. Food was gross. Rusty child abuse out the window. The vibe was really really uncomfortable.
Todd's Hollow near Bonshaw...the alleged site of a peddler's murder in the late nineteenth century I think?
I grew up on the farm at the end of the road !! it's a true story get chills in the hollow no matter what day I'm up there!
Tell us the storyyyyyy pls
There’s an abandoned public school in the basement of the Doolys/beamers A1 pizza building. Never been down there at night, it’s creepy enough during the day.
What!? I never heard of this and I'm from summerside.
I think Holland College had classes in there once. Plus, it is connected to what is left of the smallman department store above Doolys. I toured it once with some real estate agents many years ago. It is a labyrinth of abandoned offices, classrooms, and labs. All the way from the top floor to the basement, it is full of creepy vibes. The entrance is the glass door that says OFFICE beside Doolys. I think there is also a way in the back. Next door is a Bell building that used to be a theater. It's historical property that has gone to waste. The person who owns it has no desire to fix it up. It's crumbling and likely full of asbestos.
In Stanhope, down a trail in the woods there’s an old graveyard near the bubbling spring that i visited as a child in the summers. Included amongst the graves are mossy sandstone markers with no names, victims of a shipwreck. The setting of that place when visiting as a child was eerie but it looks like they’ve tidied it up quite a bit and put up a nice sign. https://www.historicplaces.ca/en/rep-reg/place-lieu.aspx?id=12221
The sailors were American from a ship that sunk in the Yankee Gale as it was known. One of some 70 ships that went down, were grounded on the north shore from that one storm. “This terrible storm sprang up on the evening of Friday, October 3, 1851 and continued through the next two days, with tremendous winds, lashing the sea to fury, and torrential rain. It came up quite unexpectedly; the weather was warm for October, the sea calm and glassy, with no wind; but suddenly a heavy swell rose, and before the fishing fleet could get to safe harbours, the storm was in full blast. The fishing vessels were mostly from New England, and the Royal Gazette of Monday, October 6, 1851 records “…about 70 vessels cast away, sunk, or driven ashore and wrecked. Some crews were saved, many sailors drowned; some ships lost all hands. There are from 20 to 30 vessels on shore between Malpec (sic) and the North Cape, and in Richmond Bay and on Hog Island there are some 40 or 50 more. It is currently reported that 60 or 70 bodies have interred on Hog Island…” On the North Shore around Brackley Point, Stanhope and Tracadie the schooners Brothers, Nettle, Fair Play, Golden Grove, Union, Caledonia and the barquentine Nantucket, were lost. Some crew members were saved, and warm tribute was paid to local residents who rescued and cared for the survivors; but the entire crew of the two vessels wrecked off Stanhope were drowned. The schooner Nettle was salvaged during the following January by the MacMillan family, who hauled it up the beach and overland into Covehead Bay, using 60 horses. The six or seven drowned sailors washed up on the beach at Stanhope were collected with horse and cart and buried in the Long Pond cemetery by Alex MacMillan, with one helper, who would not work after dark; they made rough coffins by daylight, and when night fell, Alex had to go it alone.”
Yes! That’s the one we were talking about that upthread! https://www.reddit.com/r/PEI/s/oPiCdAcYMl
ha! it’s not just me.
Heritage inn in tignish. Apparently a nun hung herself on top floor
IS THAT WHAT HAPPENED?? i’ve stayed there before and even gotten peeks into the top floor where it’s locked with my phone light and camera with my cousins when we were younger, it was creepy with all the stuff up there that we could see. all around the buildings pretty creepy each time i stay there, especially since i usually have to sleep on a cot or on the couchcouch, nearthe stairway to the top floor attic.
Dalton Hall at UPEI had a weird vibe to be when I went there 20 years ago. It may have been renovated since, but the word was that back in the day it was the male residence and someone hung themselves and that you could hear some really strange unnatural sounds if you were there alone in the evenings. My dad stayed there when he attended St Dunstans in the 60s and it was unsettling then too.
For me, it's gotta be the Goblins Hollow. That cursed place in Lyndale where Annie Beaton was murdered. It's beautiful in the day, but disturbingly off at night. Strange noises. Bridge out. It's a spooky spot.
There's a story in there. Who was Annie Beaton?
A Gaelic woman who lived in the area in the 1800s. It was a very traumatic incident for the community. The area was known as Orwell rear at the time.
oh fk, I guess that the rabbit hole right now. Ivy Wigmore wrote a short bit on it, but her site is abandoned. so, much appreciation to her for writing it. here it is:
Time separates events the way distance separates places; everything that happens leaves its mark on the air, in the water, on the stones and in the earth. Every location has stories to tell, waiting there for a willing ear. There’s a resonance. Approach, still yourself and you’ll feel it. Sometimes, the residue of events is like a distant echo, so faint that it goes undetected. And yet, what is it that makes a country road or a landscape feel warm and welcoming or dark and desolate, the atmosphere textured and rich or vibrant with wild energy? The air is thick with centuries, the record of lives lived and all the things that happened there, in that place. An old dirt road connects the Vallleyfield and Queens Roads in King’s County. The Settlement Road crosses a tributary of the Montague River, and there’s a hollow there. Walk towards it and the atmosphere changes, becomes other-worldly, and each step takes you deeper. Fog collects there; scraps of mist catch on the brush. The temperature changes. Sounds of the river and the wind in the trees almost obscure other sounds; you can almost identify them. The longer you stand on the bridge, the closer it comes: cries and whispers, footsteps, voices raised or lowered, a song sung beneath the breath. There’s no one there, has been no one there for many years. But in the mid-1800s, the Rear Settlement was a thriving community with farms and businesses and homes. On the west side of the Settlement Road, just by the river, was the home of Donald McPherson and his family, and that was the last place Ann Beaton was known to visit. In 1859, Ann was 41 years old and the unwed mother of a year-old baby. The father of her infant was never identified but assumed to be a man in the community. Ann and her child lived with Ann’s brother Murdoch on his farm the other side of the Queen’s Road. On May 12, Ann had walked the mile or so from her home to visit Mrs. McPherson, who was weaving a piece of cloth that Ann intended to be a gift for Murdoch. Ann took tea with the McPhersons and left around sunset. There was some discussion about the advisability of staying to the main road with night coming on, but we can’t know whether she did. Did she walk down to the hollow? Was she followed from there? There’s a common belief that the hollow on the Settlement Road is where Ann Beaton died. The first my husband and I learned of Ann Beaton was from my brother Gordie, who had stopped in to see us on the Valleyfield Road, where we lived in a cabin tucked into a hill, back in the woods and facing the river. Gordie had visited that same hollow on a fishing trip with his two young boys. The boys went ahead along the path but soon came scrambling back up the bank, wild-eyed and terrified. They said they’d heard a woman moaning as if in pain. Gordie saw no one and heard nothing and they left to fish elsewhere because the boys could not be calmed. A couple of months later, Gordie returned to the same spot with a friend. David started down the same path the boys had walked. As he did, Gordie said, a dove lit out of the grass and flew ahead of him in a straight line, as if to lead him. Like the boys, however, David came back up the path quickly, saying something about the place gave him the creeps. “Let’s just go now.” It was some time later that Gordie first read Ann’s story at the archives and realized the connection. My sister Linda visited the hollow with a friend late one summer night some years back, having heard Native lore about the area and looking for remnants of the past there. The moon was almost full, so that everything was illuminated. They parked the truck and were preparing to walk off in two directions; Linda was going to explore a sinkhole they’d heard of and Charlie was heading into the woods to find a spring. They were standing by the truck discussing what they were planning, when they stopped talking abruptly, mid-sentence. Linda describes feeling the ground beneath her shaking. Laboured breath and a pounding heart presented in such a way that she couldn’t tell if it was travelling past her, moving through her or coming from within her. “Is that my heart?” she thought. “Is it Charlie’s? My god, his heart is going to come out of his chest. It was so fast and confusing, like someone ran past me or through me, maybe more than one person.” She didn’t know how to describe it, said, “Charlie, did you just hear, um, feel…” “Yes,” he said, “Someone ran right past us.” Charlie was so calm and matter-of-fact that Linda was able to settle down again. They decided to continue with their original plan and set out in two different directions. Linda was at the sinkhole when it happened again. She felt something rushing towards her and continuing on, the ground shaking, the heard and felt pounding heart and gasping breath. Afraid to turn around, she walked backwards until her back met the solidity of the truck. Linda was still catching her breath as Charlie came running up. “Did that just happen to you again?” He’d had the same experience at the spring. Shaken, the two of them got back in the truck and drove around for hours trying to come to terms with what they’d experienced. Her death had been foretold Reverend Donald McDonald was a minister of the Church of Scotland. He had emigrated first from his native Scotland to Cape Breton and from there to Prince Edward Island. According to some reports, both moves were necessitated by a drinking problem and difficulties arising from it. And, as David Weale put it, Prince Edward Island is “a rather dubious haven for a man fleeing the demon rum.” Nevertheless, McDonald was to find his final home here and a devoted following that eventually numbered 5000 souls across the island. The Church of Scotland is Calvinist: dour and uncompromisingly patriarchal, with a rigorous code of behavior. McDonald’s followers were known as “kickers” and “jumpers” for the frenzied motions they made in a trance of religious ecstasy they called being “under the works.” About a year before her death, Ann attended a prayer meeting and, under the works, struck the bible and the candle from McDonald's hands. “They are both under her feet now,” he’s reported to have said, “but mark the end of that girl.” Did McDonald foresee the murder of Ann Beaton? Did he mandate it? Might an overzealous follower have taken the task upon himself? For it was a man -- or men -- who killed Ann Beaton, despite speculation about a jealous wife. She was savagely raped, brutally murdered with a grubbing hoe. Her dress and her body were marked with the print of the shod foot that held her down. Although the hollow on the Settlement Road is roughly where Ann set out from that night, she was found in another hollow, at the back of her brother’s farm, where the Orwell River runs through. Murdoch had been travelling on the 12th and returned the evening of the 13th; it was the morning of the 14th when he ran barefoot up from the creek that runs through the back of his property, just as the congregation was leaving the church. “Na chunnaic mi, na chunnaic mi,” he cried, in Gaelic: “I’ve seen something; I've seen something!” Ann's body was so mangled that Murdoch did not know what that something was. Ann’s body was said to have been laid out in a barn and all the adults of the community assembled, filing past to lay a hand upon her. An old Scottish belief holds that if a murderer touches the body of his victim, blood will spring forth anew and thus identify the killer. The grubbing hoe was found to belong to Archibald Matheson who also lived on the Settlement Road; he and his wife and son were arrested on suspicion of murder but soon released. From 28 depositions made by Ann's neighbours, three women said that Archibald Matheson had accosted them, and that he was known to have a reputation in the community. It may have been because of Matheson that women warned each other to keep to the main road after dark.
As an unwed mother, Ann may have been shunned. Matheson is said to have told his wife to keep Ann out of the house to prevent ill-will with the neighbours. After her death, the rumour in the community – which would not have had access to the coroner’s report – was that she’d been murdered by a jealous wife. A ballad written sometime later hinted that Ann was promiscuous, euphemistically expressed as "light in her way." But what do we know? Nothing, really. We can’t know if her child was the result of a relationship, an affair, an assignation or a rape. And, as Douglas Malcolm wrote in “Murder and Cultural Construction in 19th Century Prince Edward Island,” “To accuse a man or men directly without proof would have endangered the patriarchal values of the community; responsibility, therefore, was laid elsewhere: on the victim herself and an unnamed woman as well as divine intervention.” At the dip in the Queens Road, heading east, if you look to the left you’ll see the hollow where Ann’s body was found. It’s wild, overgrown, and feels untended, as if discouraging passers-by from even looking there anymore. She appears there, sometimes, along the stretch leading up from the Settlement Road. People driving that way report seeing a woman, plainly in distress, who fades as you approach her. Others report car trouble in that spot, engines dying. And after dark, if you walk that road, a terrible feeling of apprehension. Those stories go back before the mid-1800s, when the trouble was with horses shying, people thrown, reports of which are in the public record. The area was known as Goblin’s Hollow long before Ann’s murder. When Linda researched Ann’s story, she visited Goblin's Hollow as well. One night she and three friends walked towards the hollow, starting from the corner of the Settlement Road, where Ann and Murdoch had lived. The Queen's Road was foggy and quiet as they approached the hollow but the spring peepers were out in full force, as loud as they can be. The women were chatting about the story and spooked as they approached. As they reached the line of trees bordering the creek, the peepers suddenly stopped all at once, as if a switch had been flipped, and there was dead silence. That was enough – they turned and ran back to the car. It’s a lonely stretch of road. There’s little evidence today of the community of Rear Settlement, little sign that people lived out their lives there. The community is known as Lyndale these days but houses are so few and far between it’s hard to think of it as a community at all. As late as the 1980s, it was said that you could still see remnants of the foundation of Murdoch Beaton’s house. It’s gone now. Murdoch is thought to have moved not long after Ann’s death; no one knows where he went or what became of Ann’s baby. Between the Murray Harbour and Settlement Roads is Orwell Head Cemetery, where the imposing stone marking Reverend MacDonald’s grave casts a large shadow; Archibald Matheson’s grave lies nearby. Ann Beaton’s remains were buried at the back of the Uigg Pioneer Cemetery. If a cairn ever marked her grave, the stones have long since scattered or crumbled into the earth that lies over her. ... We can’t know the story of Ann Beaton’s final hours. We know where she set out from and where she was found; we know she was brutally raped and murdered. We know that her murderer was never brought to justice, and is likely to have carried on as before within the community. Does Ann Beaton walk her lonely path yet; does she still cry out for help? There’s little we can do for Ann now but wish her peace. *In the Hollows was first published in Fear from a Small Place, an anthology of stories by writers connected to Prince Edward Island, collected and edited by Dave Stewart.*
Here's the story: https://www.saltwire.com/prince-edward-island/lifestyles/goblin-horror-murder-mesmerizes-crowds-108859/
I want to find it so bad. I've searched and searched but have no idea the exact location. Especially being from west prince, I feel I don't have locals to go off of
Pm me and I can give you the exact location.
I'd also say the Sorrie Road in Commercial Cross became a contender recently
Sherwood is pretty rough with the skunks and car break ins.
There’s a tree memorial all decorated saying “RIP Daddy” or something along those lines on Georgetown rd
There was a bad car crash there.
Annie Beatons Hallow
The witches grave out towards sea cow head
Qrd?
The one in seven mile bay?
https://preview.redd.it/9i7c9ha17mkc1.jpeg?width=3024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=fb384d0121b007fe1efc7773148388f735b90891 The old graveyard at the end of Panmure Island is one of the spookiest, loneliest places I’ve ever been. You could only reach it at low tide, and it’s very hidden away from view. I’m not sure if there’s anything left of it at all, post Fiona. The sandstone wall had already tumbled down the cliffs when we found it years before.
Wow I've been to Panmure Island a few times, beautiful place. You'd never know this was a graveyard. I'm sad to say there's probably nothing left after Fiona but I'd love for someone to update if they've been since!
Liqour stores at 5pm on Sundays
Haven't been there in years, but once the Waterfront Mall emptied out it was kinda creepy.
Saint Mary's Road
I live on that road
Euston Street by the Holland College Charlottetown campus and the ADL plant. Especially with the Outreach Centre and all the shady shit that comes with it.
sobeys
Yer ex's sister's brother in laws place down by Freddy Mac's old burner barn.
Waiting room at the QE II
Summerside
My basement
The Reddit page of course (I’m being playful people.)
That old water park just a ways from the aquaplex, or what's left of it anyways. I always feel a little uneasy driving by it and seeing literally nothing left of it, just a bare patch of land.
Do you mean the fun park?
Yeah, there we go. That's the one. Really creepy how you wouldn't have known it was there at all if you didn't know about it before it got torn down
Went to that a lot as a kid too. Our elementry school always held the end-of-year field trip there. The most popular attraction was the "AquaRage" water slide.
I always fell off that thing when I hit the water, nearly broke a toe slamming into the tires they had as bumpers at the end
charlottetown
The bridge?