Milton Malsor

An omen, a green-clad figure in the darkness, not necessarily approaching, not necessarily threatening, just there, waiting for the moment and then disappearing.

At Milton Malsor, things become stranger still.

There is a tradition of a procession of monks, a group of figures moving along a road and driveway, a whole procession, and the stories say they disappear into a brick wall.

Now think about that for a moment.