In olden times an alien craft crashed in the sea not far from Edinburgh. Its only surviving passenger burrowed into the ground and took up permanent residence.

This deadly parasite from outer space controls all it surveys while the human population, its food, is unaware of the creature’s existence. In modern times a small self-appointed team of ne'er-do-wells take on the impossible task of saving the world. Unknown to almost all of humanity this horror resides in subterranean darkness beneath a Scottish moor. Armed only with guts, wits and a peculiar device called the PXI the human heroes try to unravel a centuries old mystery. Is it possible for a mere human to penetrate the dark secrets of an alien being? Can man overcome the stupendous odds?

Living on a diet of dissolved human flesh the alien creature blinds its victims to reality by using a mind-bending psycho-control. Inevitably there are people who are immune to the hypnotic influence of the alien—they have to be eliminated or at least neutralized.

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Excerpt from The Horror of Craigai

Horror is usually in the eyes of the beholder. If it’s unknown and unseen, how can it be so horrible? Perhaps that which lurks in the dark is only frightening because it is unseen. Late in the year 1435 Father Markus of the Benedictine monastery in the border Fenlands of Lincolnshire observed what he took to be a star that fell from the heavens. In his diary he recorded its falling and only a few days later he recorded that God recalled the star and the good father was fortunate enough to witness its return to the heavens. A friar at Abbs Head Abbey in Scotland recorded a similar event in 1540, though this time there was never a mention of the star being recalled. White Horse Farm stands a considerable distance from the main road at the end of a long private drive only a stone’s throw from the ancient city of Peterborough. The establishment consisted of a huge Victorian house with six outbuildings and 150 acres of good arable land. Geese were running free in the yard and would not permit Hiram Kawalski to leave his car. Every time he attempted to get out of the vehicle, the birds would hiss and raise their wings and make as if to attack him. Knowing nothing about farms and their animals Hiram decided to sit tight and await rescue. After some time a young lad of about twenty came to help him and without difficulty the boy shooed the geese away. “Wha’s up, mate?” he asked in his quaint accent. “I’m from Technowonder Magazine,” Hiram replied. “I’m here to see John Skullings.” “You a Yank?” the lad asked, blinking as though he had difficulty seeing. “No, I’m a Canadian. Could you tell me where I could find John Skullings?” “Right yah’ are, mate. It’s me. I called yah, didn’t I.” Hiram wound up the window and climbed from the car. “You’re the one who phoned the mag about a UFO sighting?” The boy had the appearance of being simple: deep-set eyes and Neanderthal forehead and a predisposition to blinking. He constantly swayed from foot to foot as though his feet bothered him in some way. With his eyes downcast he said, “I saw it, didn’t I.” He acted almost bashfully as if ashamed of seeing whatever it was that he claimed to have witnessed. “Well, I get lots of these reports from all over the place. Could you tell me a bit about it?”

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The Horror of Craigai

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