Nihil habeo, Nihil curo

Biserica Sf. Nicolae, Curătești, Romania,

Its origin file back to the 19th century...

Fata Morgana

Austin Osman Spare (1888–1956), “For Protection from Evil People”

One night, a newly-married couple were passing through the park on their way to their honeymoon. It was raining very heavily and visibility was bad.

All of a sudden, the car began to skid. The groom lost control and crashed head-on into the white tree. The impact was so devastating that the bride was thrown through the windshield.

The groom was killed instantly, his bloody body mangled in the wreck. The bride, however, was nowhere to be found. Nobody knows what happened to her. They say that the car was destroyed so badly in the crash that she must have been killed on impact, but her body was never recovered. According to local legend, the ground opened up and swallowed her...

Ghost Mushroom – Dandenong Ranges National Park, VIC, Australia

I was fortunate enough to have moonlight lighting up the forest for this shot.

June 11, 2026

In the late autumn of 1928, the quiet farming community of York County, Pennsylvania, found itself at the center of a story that felt centuries older than the automobiles parked along its dirt roads. This was Pennsylvania Dutch country, a place where folk healing, powwow magic, and whispered hexes lived alongside churchgoing respectability. And it was here, in a lonely farmhouse in Rehmeyer’s Hollow, that Nelson Rehmeyer met a violent and superstitious end.

Rehmeyer was a powwow doctor, a practitioner of traditional folk healing rooted in Germanic charms and scripture. He was known as gentle, solitary, and a little strange, but hardly dangerous. Yet to John Blymire, a local man plagued by misfortune, Rehmeyer became the embodiment of a curse.

Blymire believed he had been “hexed.” His crops failed. His health declined. His luck evaporated. In desperation, he sought the advice of another powwow practitioner, who told him that the person who had cursed him was someone he knew, someone with “the strongest power.” Blymire became convinced that the culprit was Rehmeyer.

On the night of November 27, 1928, Blymire and two accomplices, John Curry, age 14, and Wilbert Hess, age 18, went to Rehmeyer’s farmhouse. Their plan was rooted in superstition: steal Rehmeyer’s copy of The Long Lost Friend, a powwow book believed to hold protective spells, and bury a lock of his hair to break the curse.

But when Rehmeyer resisted, panic took over. The men beat him, strangled him, and left his body on the kitchen floor. They attempted to burn the house to hide the crime, but the fire mysteriously failed to spread, a detail that fed local legends for decades.

The murder shocked the nation. Newspapers called it the “Hex Murder,” framing it as a relic of medieval superstition surviving into the modern age. Blymire and his accomplices were arrested, tried, and convicted, but the deeper story, of fear, folklore, and the dangerous power of belief, lingered long after the courtroom closed.

May 19, 2026

On Valentine’s Day 1945, in the quiet English village of Lower Quinton, 74‑year‑old farm laborer Charles Walton was found dead in a field on Meon Hill, a place steeped in centuries of folklore. His throat had been slashed. His chest had been pierced with his own pitchfork. His walking stick lay nearby, broken.

The brutality of the scene was shocking, but it was the symbolism that unsettled investigators. The pitchfork pinned him to the ground like a ritual sacrifice. A cross‑shaped wound marked his chest. Rumors spread instantly: witchcraft, curses, ancient rites.

Walton was a reclusive man, rumored to have “the evil eye.” Locals claimed he could stop machinery with a glance, that animals died in his presence, that he was touched by something uncanny. Whether these stories were superstition or scapegoating, they shaped the investigation.

Scotland Yard sent Detective Robert Fabian, who quickly realized the villagers would not talk. Doors closed. Eyes averted. Every question was met with silence or evasions. Fabian later wrote that he had never encountered a community so determined to hide something.

No suspect was ever charged.