What do an old cemetery, a rough neighbourhood, a shady dive bar and an unnervingly placed McDonald’s have in common? – They are haunted, or, at least, give good reason to think so. Their vibes are off, shall we say. They have some of that phantasmatic razzle-dazzle going on.
And it is Halloween, after all, so why not grab your torch light and investigate these places yourselves?... You are not convinced? – Oh well! Then, how about you just read about them here?
Our writers have picked their brains to produce a list of locations that will make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Are they not a lovely bunch? (The writers, not the locations nor the hairs on the back of your neck.)
You are seeking a thrill, and this is ROUX’s tourist guide to the spookiest places in Luxembourg!
In the heart of the old town of Esch-upon-Alzette, nestled beside St. Joseph church lies a cemetery that holds a strange, almost magnetic pull. Its path lies between looming neo-Gothic mausoleums with their sharp spires reaching towards the sky, and the twisted branches of ancient trees creaking overhead. Dreamy statues keep silent watch over weathered gravestones, each a monument to lovely bones once dear, now forgotten.
By day, the air here is thick with the scent of myrrh and damp earth, and the pines stretch their soft shadows. But it’s at night when the cemetery truly awakens. When the solemn quiet is broken only by the crunch of your footsteps, you can’t help but feel observed – perhaps by the spirits of those laid to rest, or maybe by the trees whispering secrets to the wind.
Though many avoid cemeteries, I find my solace here, comforted by the weight of the dark. It’s not the ghosts that I fear, but my own kind. Then, if you manage to cross unscathed, don’t forget to stop by the flower shop on the other side (1 Rue Jean-Pierre Michels).
Sometimes, when I exit the cemetery with fresh flowers in hand, the pious near the church doorway watch with unease, likely thinking I’ve stolen a bouquet from the graves. Their weary glances amuse me.
– Kristina
Place de la Gare & environs, Luxembourg
Not a district one would visit for sightseeing, even on the most radiant afternoon. Now, picture it after nightfall has undone the city’s lazy corset and wrapped even the homeliest silhouettes in a shroud of ambiguity. The whole town is like Swiss cheese, built upon layers of Roman ruins and mediaeval friaries that did not make it through the French Revolution.
No rest, however, for these august, no peace for these pious remains: there is a world going on underground. Its denizens sleep a cast iron slumber during the day and creep out of steaming manholes at night.
The heedless pedestrian who tumbles down one of these hell shafts, what sees he? – A court of miracles, – a sewer to outrival Lucifer’s own banquet and bordello! A cacophony of faraway tongues and dice loader’s jargon; card cheats and cutpurses, latrine stall shankers and beggars of every corporation bartering their dubious goods, their peculiar skills, whilst hungry she-wolves breastfeed a crawling generation of small fry and street urchins with the black milk of vice.
Someday, these destitutes are going to raise a Romulus out of one of these little Cains… and what then? – Brown will flow the Tiber! ‘Twill be the court of the last emperors, Cloaca Maxima and throne room mouth to mouth, where filthy lucre flows through bejewelled hands and dirty fingernails, along with all the gold of Peru, Golconda, and the confounded leprechauns!
That said, there are some good restaurants in the vicinity.
– Valère
28 Mnt du Grund, Ville-Haute Luxembourg
On a cold fall evening you have lost yourself in the city of Luxembourg, you are surrounded by ever growing buildings and structures, you are searching for an escape from this terrifyingly rigid landscape. Searching for a way to make this evening less worrisome. You’re stumbling into the elevator, or you pass by the terrace of Gudde Wellen and the national archive that leads you to Gronn.
On your dreary search you pass a couple of bars and houses, your surroundings becoming haunting, houses stretching into the depths of the earth, built into the cliff’s edge. The starless night is lit up by street lamps and the eerie stench draws you towards a bar at the end of the road. The bartender already awaits you with an empty glass, waiting to fill it with your blood. Horribly good people getting morbidly drunk with their guts laying in the corner or on tables.
Downstairs a pool table and darts and the occasional teenagers raving until the night dies. Good drinks to mend the chaos in your head and you lean against the natural stone wall that reminds you of our futile war against nature. What a terrifying night to be sober.
– Daniel
The McRIP, Rue du Bois, Berchem Roeser
A rather secluded space, scarcely lit by the orange glow of an up-above streetlamp, rarely visited – if at all. Who might be the frequent visitors of this place? Well, those that are drawn to it, indescribably, by some higher, ominous force. Indeed, those that pass the short path of forest and nettle bushes, will find themselves peculiarly suctioned from the real world and dragged, as though in a daze, to a distant, yellow sign.
On top of that, a welcoming (or is it really?) creak of a door greets those that walk up the steps and approach the wooden gateway to nowhere. Rumour has it that if you linger long enough in this liminal space between the grim bundle of trees and the highway service station, you might hear the squeaks of clown shoes, or swiftly catch the sight of a head of red curls. It seems so familiar, but chilling all the same…
– Sofi & Dorian
Roux Magazine is made by students at the University of Luxembourg. We love their work, so we decided to team up with them and bring some of their articles to our audience as well. You can find all of their issues on Issuu.
