It's only a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's a story, it's

a story, it's a story, it's a story,

it's a solitary stone that some believe resembles a weeping figure, according to folklore, the shadow it casts as the sun goes down points the way to a cave of hidden treasure, whether the stone figure weeps because it was never able to find this bounty, or because it grieves some greater loss, nobody knows, though, of course, there are stories to accommodate both possibilities,

by the way, this story has a strong Welsh flavor to it, and, as a typical, untraveled American, I am very likely to mispronounce certain words, despite my best intentions, I actually reached out to a friend of mine named Chris who grew up in Wales and asked him for pronunciation advice, for those words in this story that I pronounce correctly, you all have Chris to thank for that,

for those that I mispronounce, I take the full blame myself, to those of you in the audience that notice, my deepest apologies, and here comes the ad break remix, well, that wasn't very remix-y, was it?

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Now, allow me to escort you to a place where the sun dies and nightmares come to life. Welcome, listener, to the horror hill.

You haven't found the darkness, the darkness has found you.

And now, from author-favorite Ray Clouley, I give you the Castethmachman.

A top-radar's hill in Ratnershire stands a solitary stone that some believe resembles a weeping figure.

According to folklore, the shadow of casts as the sun goes down points the way to a cave of hidden treasure, stolen goods hidden by thieves waiting for a safe time to sell.

Whether the stone figure weeps because it was never able to find this bounty, or because it grieves some greater loss, nobody knows.

Though, of course, there are stories to accommodate both possibilities.

There are certainly plenty of caves in the area, and the hills and mountains make for rewarding hikes.

Geocache findings, a toy car, a single glove, and a tarnished silver ring.

The Hayward Stables guesthouse was a converted farmhouse with similarly renovated outbuildings, sturdy stone structures with heavy wooden mantles and beams.

The door frames forced you to duck, and the sash windows rattled in their frames when the wind was high, but it was cozy.

All of the rooms were tidy, with instantly forgettable decor.

Upstairs was carpeted thick enough to muffle footsteps, whereas downstairs was all stone floor.

A wide parking area extended around the back, and further down the track was an old stable that had been converted into a large storage shed,

or barn, Charlie supposed. In the year since his last visit, very little about the place had changed, even the weather was the same.

...