Old Bastards
Stevie Duffy
INDIE SCOTTISH BOOKSELLER
Out of stock
Author: Aidan Blackwood
£8.95 Original price was: £8.95.£5.00Current price is: £5.00.
The Black Bothy is a folk horror novel set around a remote Highland shelter that seems to draw people in and refuse to let them leave, blurring memory, grief and place. As its presence lingers, those who encounter it are changed in unsettling ways. For readers of atmospheric horror rooted in landscape and psychological dread.
dispatched by Royal Mail Tracked 48
Aidan Blackwood’s The Black Bothy is the kind of Highland horror that makes isolation feel genuinely threatening. A year after her sister Sorcha disappeared, Mara Fraser returns to the remote…
Aidan Blackwood’s The Black Bothy is the kind of Highland horror that makes isolation feel genuinely threatening. A year after her sister Sorcha disappeared, Mara Fraser returns to the remote bothy where she was last seen, hoping the landscape might surrender whatever happened there.
I loved how little Blackwood explains outright. Footsteps stop outside the door, voices move through the wind and sounds travel across the hills as though something is deliberately drawing Mara deeper into the past. The bothy feels less like a haunted building than a place quietly absorbing every grief carried inside it.
Restrained, eerie and heavy with atmosphere, this is horror built from absence, memory and the fear of being watched somewhere help cannot easily reach. The Black Bothy is a short, unsettling opening to The Archive Files and an excellent choice for readers who prefer creeping dread to obvious scares.
As Independent Scottish booksellers, we write all of our descriptions personally, we hope you enjoy this one.
In the Scottish Highlands, Sorcha Fraser vanishes while hiking, leaving behind a torn map, a voice recorder, and a journal full of spirals. Her last known location is a remote bothy, miles from the nearest road. What happened to her cannot be confronted, escaped, or undone, only carried.
A year later, her sister Mara returns to the same glen, drawn back by the need for answers and the cost of not knowing. She follows Sorcha’s traces towards the bothy, expecting emptiness.
But the bothy is not abandoned. It is waiting.
Night after night there are footsteps that stop just outside the door. A voice that seems to whisper through the wind. A sense that the mountains themselves are listening, holding what they have seen.
The Black Bothy does not want to be found. It wants to be remembered.
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