Smuts, Saskatchewan – portrait of a town long dead
When I was seven-years-old, this bizarre and strangely mysterious school bus showed up at the end of my block. Being seven, I had never seen anything even remotely similar to it. My best friend at the time decided that we should go over and peer through the windows and investigate. The inside of the bus was even more bizarre than the outside. There were suitcases and milk crates full of clothes, shoes and scuba gear. We decided, that no doubt, this bus belonged to a psychopath murderer who stalked around the country killing children and collecting their things. Eventually, other kids on the block started flocking around. The situation escalated when one kid yelled out, “I think I saw something move!” We all screamed and ran away.
We decided, that no doubt, this bus belonged to a psychopath murderer who stalked around the country killing children and collecting their things.
It’s strange what the imagination can invent when it comes across something abnormal and unexplainable, pulling out whatever bizarre scenario it can from the depths of your darkest and arbitrary dark dreams. Secretly, we all want to be a character in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. This is the feeling I get every time I approach a ghost town.
I have no idea what happened to that bus, but the next day it was gone.
The town of Smuts, located about 50 km north-east of Saskatoon on Highway 41, was said to have around 200 or so residents. Rumor has it that half the population died off from some bizarre plague, and the rest fled in fear. Whether this is true, or just an internet lie, I did not know this when entering Smuts, but the place definitely held that apocalyptic deserted feel. The only building out there that seemed to have any sort of upkeep was the church.
I didn’t dare point my camera towards it.
These photos were taken about three years back, and since then half of the buildings have been removed. The two-storey hotel, I am told, still remains.