Spine-tingling tales from Scotland

Scotland delights in its tales of misery, mystery, and misfortune. Some tales are historical, like the 15th century "Black Dinner" which inspired Games of Thrones' famous "Red Wedding." Some are mythical, such as the elusive Loch Ness Monster or the dangerous kelpies. Others are fictional, like the Gruffalo.

And some are ghostly and macabre. Trickster faeries. Cutty Sark and the hellish legions. Damn near any Scottish castle worthy of its name has at least one ghost. You might spot the Pink Lady of Stirling, the harpist of Inverary, the handless ghost of Cawdor, a pacing William Wallace at Ardrossan, or perhaps Moaning Myrtle of Hogwarts.

Last year, I collected a few of my favorite stories. As Halloween approaches this year, here are some Scottish tales to get your spine tingling:

 
    Old Man of Storr and the faerie king




 
         Tam o' Shanter and the Brig o' Doon





 
    The ghost piper of Edinburgh Castle




 
         The devil plays cards at Glamis Castle

Monday Exposure: Old Man of Storr and the faerie king

The Old Man of Storr stands on his ridge line.

The faerie king turned them to stone, so the legend goes.

Oft would the man and his wife scale the vertiginous slope. They sought the view from the ridge: down the rugged mountain and across the blue sea. Young, middle aged, old -- they made the trek together.

As they aged, she found it harder to make the climb.

He didn't want to go without her. She could not disappoint him. They hiked and she despaired. When she could go no further, the faerie king arrived. Saw the love between them.

The faerie said he would help them. If only they accepted his aid, he'd ensure they would always be able to gaze upon the view. They knew they should not trust him. But without help, they would never be together at the ridge.

And so they accepted. At the ridge, they turned to gaze across the sea. Then the faerie king cackled and turned them to stone.

For centuries, they stood on the ridge. One day, long ago, she toppled and crumbled, shattering into thousands of pieces along the slope. The old man gazes on, solitary and mourning.

The Old Man of Storr stands hobbled, the remains of his wife at his side.