Eerie Edinburgh

For centuries, Edinburgh has been home to murderers, body snatchers, executioners, occultists, and some of Scotland's most famous ghost stories. Today, one figure dominates the city's paranormal tourism scene - Mr Boots. But long before Mr Boots became Edinburgh's unofficial ghostly mascot, there was another name people feared encountering after dark.

This week, we're exploring the forgotten legend of Johnny One-Arm - the restless spirit said to be that of John Chiesley of Dalry, the man who assassinated Scotland's most powerful judge in 1689 before suffering one of the most brutal executions in Edinburgh's history.

From the narrow closes of the Royal Mile to the lonely roads of old Dalry, generations of witnesses claimed to encounter a silent one-armed figure standing motionless in the darkness. Some heard footsteps behind them on empty roads. Others claimed to have come face-to-face with a man who vanished moments later.

Was Johnny One-Arm simply a local bogeyman used to frighten children home before dark, or one of Edinburgh's most overlooked ghost stories?

The case of Lurancy Vennum is often described as America’s strangest possession case.

In 1877, in the small town of Watseka, Illinois, a young girl began falling into violent trances. She spoke in unfamiliar voices, claimed to see dead people standing in her room, and seemed to lose awareness of the world around her.

What followed drew physicians, spiritualists, sceptics, and newspaper reporters from across the country.

But this wasn’t a medieval witch trial or local legend. It happened in front of witnesses. Doctors documented it. Families opened their homes to investigators. And for months, an ordinary household became the centre of one of the most disturbing paranormal cases in American history.

In this episode, we explore the full story of the "Watseka Wonder" - from the first signs something was wrong, to the alleged spirit of Mary Roff, and the question that still hangs over the case nearly 150 years later:

Was this possession, psychological trauma… or something far stranger?

It was meant to be empty.

After closing time, with the doors locked and the building cleared, staff began noticing things that didn’t quite fit. A face appearing briefly above the bar, as if someone had lifted themselves just enough to look over before dropping back out of sight. A glass shelf, fixed securely in place, shifting in a way that didn’t make sense.

Nothing dramatic. Nothing that could be easily explained either.

These weren’t stories told years later or passed through word of mouth. They came from people who worked there - people familiar with the space, who knew what was normal and what wasn’t.

In this episode, we’re looking at a nightclub in Glasgow where something continued to be seen, even when it should have been empty.

Scotland is home to more than two thousand recorded castles.

Some are well known. Others are easy to miss - broken walls in the landscape, visited by only a handful of people at a time.

In this episode, we’re focusing on three of those lesser-known sites: Auchindoun, Drumin, and Kildrummy.

All within the same part of the country. All tied to the same stretch of history. And all connected to experiences people have struggled to account for.

From reports of a child crying within the ruins of Auchindoun, to unexplained footsteps on the narrow staircase of Drumin, to sightings of a figure standing briefly in the courtyard at Kildrummy - the accounts are subtle, brief, and often difficult to explain.

These aren’t places normally described as some of Scotland’s most haunted.

And that’s what makes the accounts so interesting.

Taken individually, each one is small. A sound. A movement. A figure glimpsed and then gone.

But taken together, across multiple sites within such a small area, a different picture begins to form.

Not of a single haunting, but of something broader.

Something tied not just to the buildings, but to the ground they stand on.

When people think of Scotland’s major battles, places like Bannockburn or Culloden usually come to mind.

But just outside the town of Crieff, there’s another battlefield that doesn’t get the same attention - Sheriffmuir.

In 1715, two armies met there during the Jacobite rising. By the end of the day, neither side had won. Both claimed victory, but the outcome settled nothing. The campaign stalled, and what followed wasn’t a clean retreat or a clear defeat - it was something far less defined.

And that aftermath didn’t stay on the battlefield.

In this episode, we look at what happened next - not just the history, but the accounts that have been reported in and around Crieff since.

From repeated sightings of a man standing at the roadside along the A85, to a strange figure seen on a path at the edge of town, and the long-standing reports tied to Ferntower House.

These aren’t well-known stories, and some are being shared here for the first time. Most come from people who experienced something, tried to make sense of it, and were left with more questions than answers.

I’d also like to thank Scott for passing on his family’s account, and for taking the time to share the details behind it. Stories like that don’t always make it beyond a small circle, so having it sent through made a real difference when putting this episode together.