Call me macab, but I've always been fascinated with hangings.

It's not that I want to watch someone die, it's that I enjoy the history surrounding public

executions.

Every hanging site has its own tale to tell, and there are hundreds to explore across North

America, many of which are open to the public.

There's this indescribable feel that comes with standing in an old building, knowing that

not so long ago, people were climbing over one another to watch criminals die and cheering

as it happened.

So, really, if anyone's macabre, it's them, not me.

The experience I'm sharing today is my favorite.

I don't want to be cheesy and say it chills me to this day, but it is the hanging site

I've visited that's left the biggest impression on me.

You know that high you get from reading a good horror story?

That usually fades with time, but what I experience there is as potent now as it was then.

Let me tell you about the noose of the hanged men.

And yes, that's men, plural.

About a year ago I was in Nova Scotia on business when I learned of a little-known

hanging site down in a small port town, about an hour and a half away from Halifax.

Given my aforementioned interest in the subject, I decided to use my day off to visit.

I had to go through a few hoops, but after speaking with the Tourism Office, I was put in touch

with someone from the town's Historical Society, who agreed to give me a tour.

That's how I wound up, late one cloudy afternoon, standing at the edge of a seemingly abandoned

...