Grängesberg Ghost Town

This gallery is part of my journalistic project “Grängesberg Ghost Town”, which explores the history of a small Swedish town that changed forever when the iron mine closed in 1990. The description of the project reads: “Welcome to the town of Grängesberg, once the home of Bergslagen’s largest orefield and Sweden’s most lucrative company – today an echoing ghost town.” The Flickr album in its entirety can be found here.

huset hela

This old giant is only one of many structures to have been left to the elements after fissures in the ground forced central Grängesberg to be moved in the 1970s.

rum ror

The inside of the building is not in any better shape than its exterior.

door ruin


This old staircase has certainly seen better days.


The basement was too dark to be photographed. This was as far as the camera got.

fagel bla

However, the destruction has also given birth to beautiful art…


…and even in darkness there is light.

kulle hus

Now nature is doing its best to take it all back.



In Sweden we have a beloved children’s tale called “Ronja Rövardotter” by author Astrid Lindgren. The fissures surrounding these ruins remind me of a chasm called “The Hell Gap” from that story.


This old electricity distribution central from the old mining era will probably fall into “The Hell Gap” before very long.


It is in very bad shape…

tegel rasat

…and seems to be waiting to fall apart completely.


Walking inside it feels like a stupid death trap, and still entering is irresistible.


Here, as well, nature is making its claim on the old structures.


The markings of the fissures can be seen everywhere…


…and in many places only scraps remain where once was industrial glory.


The second floor has more the feel of an art gallery than a factory building.


In the surrounding woods many more forgotten buildings can be found.

tegel splatt

Soon, however, only bricks will remain.


Once again we see how the hollow ground is taking its toll.

tunnor view

In the distance, past the quarry, some of the more fortunate mining buildings can be seen.

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This beautiful place was once one of the richest industrial loci in Sweden.

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Now not much remain but eerie memories.

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Utsikt Jonny

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heart torn


This odd witch-tree grows on almost the exact spot where once a wooden church towered proudly. The church was moved to the town of Orsa at the same time as the entire Grängesberg town center was moved 500 yards to the east in the 70s. If the tree is a sign of something, I leave to the more superstitious to decide.



The street of Källfallet was built as worker dwellings 1896, but since the mine closed down 1990 they have stood empty. Squatters have occupied them in periods, but have always been driven out by the police.


Recently an organization was founded in order to save the old houses from being torn down, and each house has been granted the equivalent of approximately 100 000 USD for renovation…


…but the smell of mould on the air along the entire street, together with the state of the buildings, make me suspect that sum will be insufficient.


Some of the old structures have been preserved and still stand in good shape, however.


This old mansion like building is the culture- and concert hall of Grängesberg, named after the town’s past benefactor Ernest Cassel who brought the railroad here in the 1870s.



The Lomberg Wheel still stands as a reminder of how the mine got its power before electricity came to Grängesberg in 1893.


In the museum Mojsen’s Mining Centre, driven enthusiasts help people take a huge step back in history to the glory days of Grängesberg and its mining industry. It is really worth a visit if you’re ever in town.

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Other than this, today’s Grängesberg is a very average small town.

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It has a totally okay restaurant called Stopet, a go cart track and one of the Swedish brewery giant Spendrup’s factories.

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An uninformed driver wouldn’t probably raise their eyebrows between the signs for ‘welcome’ and ‘welcome back’.

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But in the forests around Grängesberg, the town’s iron weighed history still looms amongst the never forgetting trees.


Audio Story: “This is Ground Control”

Another audio story happened, yay! This time I have taken the mike to my original text “This is Ground control” which can be found here.

But for this one something amazing also happened. I was contacted by super talented graphic artist Mio Dal, who wanted to make animated artwork for my recording. It’s totally awesome and you can watch it by clicking the video below. Then you should really check out their Instagram: @miosresidue. I mean for reals, just do it.

And here goes:

The music track this time is called “Eleanor” and was composed by Josh Spacek. You can find more of his music here.

This will also be my submission for November’s Open Mic event on the site Words and Feathers.

I really hope you liked the story and the fantastic artwork. Feel free to comment (I love comments) and check back again later for even more stuff like this.

In a while crocodile!

Audio Story: “In the Heart of a Star”

Last night I sat up late and finished yet another recording of one of my short stories. This one is called “In the Heart of a Star”, and the original text from last autumn can be found here.

Recording audio versions of my stories turned out to be both fun and somewhat addictive. The music for this one was composed and recorded by a very talented composer named Kai Engel – I recommend you check him out!

I also noticed that the blog Words and Feathers hosts an October Open Mic event, and decided to offer this audio story as a contribution to it. If you like listening to stories, you should follow that link.

I hope you enjoyed listening to this story as much as I enjoyed writing and recording it. Feel free to comment, I am somewhat new to this and manically appreciate feedback (mohaha).

Until next time!

Her Golden Gaze

He stood at the brink
No cloud in the sky
Awatching the field of play
As shadows did rise
From actors unknown
His worries drifted away
A mist in his mind
Was lifted, removed
When beauty rose into place
A precious short time
‘Fore he was forced down
He could see the gold of her face
She lowered her gaze
To meet his eye
But smiled as he fell off the ledge
His dying tribute
He sang with the stars
Then he sank and she climbed to the edge
She looked at the world
And started to throw
A red light over it all
For well she perceived
How short was the time
‘Til also she must give in and fall
And the Moon in his grave
Not dead but asleep
Did not mourn over days of yore
For he knew in his dreams
That the hour drew near
When he would glimpse his beloved Sun once more.

This is an older piece that I wrote back in January 2007. By that time I had just become unemployed for the first time in my life and would soon (though I didn’t know it at the time) begin working as a freelance music journalist. That step has lead me to where I am today. Life’s certainly full of surprises.

River Ghost: A Poem

Gazing into the astrology
Wishing for what there could never be
“All of the stars I dedicate to thee,
the spirits of the forest and the songs of the sea”
She, the River Ghost of his long lost dreams,
singing mournful songs among the silent streams
Pale, dark eyes uplit by white moonlight beams
Beware, the fate of her is not what is seems
Frozen flowers, sunset eves
Deathcold breeze in the icy leaves
Autumn goddess surrenders and then she leaves
for Lady Frost to conquer a world that grieves
Her the River gave in to and turned to ice
Restless fay gave up a scream towards the pale blue skies
Fooled by a vision of Winter in disguise,
she lies down to final sleep in the white of her despise
He, the sun, weeps silently at her lonely grave
The lost dreams did not die with the River wave
Missing, longing for the water’s song, the happiness it gave
The sun mourned the frozen River, that its warm light could not save

This is a poem I wrote back in 2004 while I was still in senior high. However, I still like it very much and I hope that you do as well. 🙂

Photo Gallery: Autumn World

“A little being explores its forest as it drifts into the Autumn World”

Feel free to comment but please don’t use the images without my permission.

The entire Flickr album can be found here.



















På väg

“On the Road”















The City

This very short story was written in response to a writing prompt that said “Begin and end your story with this sentence: ‘And yet, the city remained.'” I wanted to make something else of it than the apocalyptic theme that immediately came to mind, and decided to write it more like a fairy tale. Feel free to tell me what you think!

And yet, the city remained.

I sighed, rolling my eyes as I did so. This was getting troublesome. I drew in a deep breath and let it out in a gust of wind so strong as to make birds fall out of the sky – and they did. The spires and towers, however, swayed back and forth but seemed to be constructed to hold through storms. And the city remained.

I resolved to try the trusted old rock throwing method. I scooped up some promising boulders and hauled them at the congregated buildings. Windows shattered, walls broke down, but by and large nothing much was affected. And the city remained.

Growing increasingly frustrated by the minute I lowered my hand into the ocean and sent a gigantic tidal wave crashing into this man built atrocity. Streets were flooded, people were carried away. But more remained, and these quickly repaired what had been broken. And the city remained.

There was only one thing left to be done. I set fire to it. Searing flames were sent dancing through the streets, eating away at the buildings and the people inhabiting them. Screams of terror and pain drifted through the air and I smiled contentedly. Finally there would be peace. I didn’t even mind the fact that I burned myself slightly in the process, this was for the greater good.

I was just about to roll over and bask in my success, when the screams changed into something else. Song; the people of the city were singing. I turned my eyes back to the burning inferno, just to realize that it was not burning anymore. The flames had been put out, and the songs were those of victory. I stared. Nothing I had thrown at it had made the city go away. I had ravaged it with storms. I had flooded it. I had crushed it and I had burned it. And still it stood.

Slowly did it dawn on me that nothing in my power would make it go away. The buildings and the people in them were just too stubborn. I was spent, tired and burnt. I had to rest, and was there really no way for me to get rid of the uncomfortable buildings that littered my side, then so be it. The ground rumbled and shook as I, the huge mountain, adjusted myself to enter the sleep of stones. And yet, the city remained.