These are a couple of photos I took nearly a year ago in Holly Neck, MD. Take a look through the series if you're so inclined. I returned to the spot this past May to find that the inn had been demolished, so I'm glad to have photographed it while I still could.
I am also, in a way, glad that the old building has been euthanized, as it had clearly witnessed the kind of things that shiver men's sanity to flotsam. Imagine this starlit husk on moonless night, the relentless splash of Chesapeake waves on the reedy shoreline, and a circle of hooded, shadowy wights chanting tuneless hymns to an alien god long-forgotten. If this scene reeks of truth (as I am sure beyond sure that it does), it savors thus only because it was so. Can you not see their dusky cloaks? The glint of ancient stars upon the high priest's blade? And as you gaze upon their primal rite beware, for can those baleful wraiths not also see you?
