Trickster Tales: Soongoora the Hare


This article was first published in Enchanted Conversation Magazine titled Soongoora the Hare: An African Folkltale, on 6th April 2019, written by zteve t evans. 

Soongoora the Hare

Soongoora the Hare was hungry, and wandering through the forest, came across a huge calabash tree. Hearing a strong humming sound, he looked and saw buzzing in and out of large hole in the trunk, many bees.Thinking he would like some honey, he went into town looking for someone to help him.

He met a big rat name Bookoo, who was in fact a very respectable citizen of the town. Smiling, Bookoo invited him to sit down and rest in his house.  Soongoora thanked him, and sitting down sighed,“Sadly, my father has recently passed away and left me in his will, a bee’s nest of honey. Would you like to help me eat it?”

Bookoo loved honey and readily accepted the invitation and accompanied Soongoora to the calabash tree. Soongoora pointed up to the hole where the bees were buzzing in and out and said, “There, we must climb up.”  

First, both cut a bundle of dried grass and climbed up to the hole where they set the grass alight, causing lots of smoke. The bees became too sleepy to bother them, allowing Soongoora and Bookoo to tuck into the honey.

As they were enjoying the feast, out of the forest sauntered Simba the Lion who sat at the bottom of the tree looking up at them and growled, “Who is in my tree, eating my honey, looking down on me while I look up at them?”

Soongoora whispered to Bookoo, “Shhh – keep quiet! He is old and crazy. Keep quiet, and he will go away.”

Simba did not go away and grew angry roaring, “Tell me who you are, now!”

This terrified poor Bookoo who stammered, “It is only us, only us!,”  

Soongoora rolled his eyes and shook his head.  He knew this meant trouble and whispered to his friend,“Wrap the grass around me and shout down that you are going to throw grass down.  Tell him to stand back, well out of the way. Then slowly climb down the tree.”

Bookoo loved honey and readily accepted the invitation and accompanied Soongoora to the calabash tree. Soongoora pointed up to the hole where the bees were buzzing in and out and said, “There, we must climb up.”  

First, both cut a bundle of dried grass and climbed up to the hole where they set the grass alight, causing lots of smoke. The bees became too sleepy to bother them, allowing Soongoora and Bookoo to tuck into the honey.
As they were enjoying the feast, out of the forest sauntered Simba the Lion who sat at the bottom of the tree looking up at them and growled, “Who is in my tree, eating my honey, looking down on me while I look up at them?”

Soongoora whispered to Bookoo, “Shhh – keep quiet! He is old and crazy. Keep quiet, and he will go away.”

Simba did not go away and grew angry roaring, “Tell me who you are, now!”

This terrified poor Bookoo who stammered, “It is only us, only us!,”  

Soongoora rolled his eyes and shook his head.  He knew this meant trouble and whispered to his friend,“Wrap the grass around me and shout down that you are going to throw grass down.  Tell him to stand back, well out of the way. Then slowly climb down the tree.”

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Indonesian Folktales: The Legend of the Golden Snail

Source

The Legend of Keong Mas

The legend of Keong Mas, or the Golden Snail, is a popular folktale from East Java, Indonesia.  There are several versions and this retelling draws on more than one source. It tells how many years ago there was a rich and prosperous kingdom called Daha ruled by  King Kertamarta who had two beautiful daughters named Candra Kirana and Dewi Galuh. The princesses were very good friends as well as being sisters and were very happy and content with their lives.  One day a handsome prince from the Kingdom of Kahuripan named Raden Inu Kertapati visited King Kertamarta.  On meeting Candra Kirana for the first time he fell in love with her and she with him and he asked the king for permission to marry  his daughter. King Kertamarta was happy to give his permission and the two were engaged to be married.

The Wicked Witch

Although the two sisters had been happy and good friends up until then Dewi Galuh was now deeply jealous of her sister wishing Prince Raden Inu Kertapati had chosen her instead.  She thought that perhaps is she could somehow get her sister out of the way the prince might instead turn his affections towards her and marry her. Therefore, she sought the help of a wicked witch who suggested she cast a spell and turn her sister, Candra Kirana, into something repulsive to to kill the passion of Prince Raden Inu Kertapati  promising to pay the witch handsomely. The wicked witch agreed but told her she would have to get near enough to cast the spell so she suggested she take her sister for a walk along the river bank where she would disguise herself and lie in wait for them and she transformed herself into a large golden snail.

The Golden Snail

As Dewi Galuh and her sister walked along the river bank they came across the golden snail and Candra Kirana said, “Ugh! What a repulsive creature!” The witch instantly transformed back to herself and cast her spell transforming Princess Candra Kirana into a large golden snail and threw it into the river

One day a very old woman was casting nets into the river hoping to catch some fish.  She did this several times but when she pulled the net out each time she was very disappointed because the net was completely empty of fish.  She decided to have one last go and once again the net was empty of fish but did contain a large golden snail. The grandmother had never seen a golden snail  before and thought it would make a good pet so she took it home and placed in a large jar.

The next morning she went out down to the river with her nets hoping to have better luck than the previous day and catch a few fish.  Again she was disappointed and this time there was not even a snail. She trudged home disconsolate but when she got back she had a big surprise.  When she entered the door she noticed the pleasant aroma of cooking and on the table were beautifully prepared dishes of the most delicious food.

Of course she wondered who had sent her such wonderful food but she counted her blessings and ate it all.  Everyday the old woman would go down to the river and cast her nets into the water and every day she would catch nothing.  Each day on her return there would be a sumptuous feast prepared and waiting on the table for her. Of course, the old woman ate and enjoyed all the food and gave thanks for such blessings but she was curious.  One morning she took her nets and made as if to go down to the river but instead double-backed and peaked through the window to see what might be happening.

At first she saw nothing but then she noticed her golden snail had slithered up the inside of the jar and then down the outside,  To he utter amazement it then began to grow and transform into a beautiful princess who stepped out of the shell. The girl began preparing and cooking ingredients that appeared on the table creating the most wonderfully tasty dishes.  The old woman was surprised and shocked and stepped into house and asked the beautiful princess why she was cooking for an old woman like her.

The Spell is Broken

The Princess of the Golden Snail replied, “I am Princess  Candra Kirana the daughter of King Kertamarta.  who was chosen by Prince Raden Inu Kertapati to be his wife.  My sister Princess Dewi Galuh was jealous and persuaded my wicked witch to transform me into this golden snail.  The old woman was disbelieving of the tale but when remembered how she had seen her transform into a princess from the golden snail before her eyes she was astounded but believed. Now although the old woman was not in anyway magical she possessed a certain wisdom and this wisdom told her that if she broke the golden snail’s shell then the princess would not be able to transform back into a snail and return to it so she crushed the shell under her foot.  Sure enough the princess had nowhere to return to and the spell was broken.

Source

Prince Raden Inu Kertapati

Meanwhile, Prince Raden Inu Kertapati learnt of the disappearance of his true love and was heartbroken.  He loved her with all of his heart and she had become the light of his life, his candle in the dark and he resolved to find her.  He left the king’s court and searched the countryside and traveled to many towns and villages in search of his lost love but could find no trace.

His disappearance from court came to the ears of the wicked witch.  She quickly realised he was searching for Princess Candra Kirana and transformed herself into a crow to seek him out and thwart him.  One day as he was resting under a tree a crow came and perched in a branch above him and began talking to him.  Of course he was surprised by encountering a talking crow but realizing it must be magical listened to what it said.  The crow deceived him telling him that Princess Candra Kirana, the light of his life, his candle in the dark, was kept prisoner by a wicked old woman in a place over the mountains and told him that he would lead him to that place.

The Sorcerer    

Therefore, he followed the crow’s which flew before him.  After many days traveling he came across an old man who was sat by the road begging for food.  The prince had little to give but gave it all anyway even though he knew he would have to go hungry.  The old man thanked him and after he had eaten told him that he was a sorcerer and because he had stopped and given him the last of his food he would help him to find his heart’s desire and asked him what that might be.

Prince Raden Inu Kertapati told him about his search for his lost love and how the crow was leading him to where she was being held prisoner.  The old man looked searchingly at the crow then hit it with his stick and it disappeared in a puff of smoke. The prince was aghast and shouted, Why did you do that?  Now I will never find my lost love who is my heart’s desire!”

The old man smiled and said, “Fear not!  I will tell you where your heart’s desire lies and I will tell you that cast upon her is now broken by an old woman and I know where she is waiting for you.”

The old man told him which village she could be found in and gave him directions and told her she lived with a kind old woman and which house they lived in.  So the prince made his way to the village and when he arrived he was tired and thirsty so he approached one of the huts to ask for drink of water. He knocked on the door and a kind old woman answered and invited him in to have a drink and a rest.  As he entered he was thrilled to see Princess Candra Kirana cooking some food. As soon as she saw him she ran to him and they embraced.

Marriage

Prince Raden Inu Kertapati took Princess  Candra Kirana and the kind old woman back to the Royal Court and   Princess Candra Kirana told her father, King Kertamarta about the spell her sister had persuaded the wicked witch to place on her.  The king was very angry with Princess Dewi Galuh and fearing what punishment he might inflict upon her she fled into the forest and was never seen again.  Prince Raden Inu Kertapati and Princess Candra Kirana were married and lived a long and happy life together and the kind old woman stayed with them.

© 27/03/2019 zteve t evans

References, Attributions and Further Reading

Copyright March 27, 2019 zteve t evans

Khasi Folktales: The Origin of Thunder and Lightning

The Khasi People

The Khasi people live in the north-eastern Indian state of Meghalaya with populations in the neighboring state of Assam and some regions of Bangladesh. They evolved their own unique mythology and folklore and created many wonderful folktales that attempt to explain different aspects of the natural world.  There are all sorts of stories featuring monkeys, tigers, lynxes and other wild animals.  The domestication of some animals is also dealt with telling how dogs, cats, goats and oxen came to live among humans and give explanations of cosmic creation and natural phenomena. The Khasi divinities, such as the twin goddesses Ka Ngot and Ka Iam, who gave their names to the rivers Ngot and Lam respectively, are found along with other divine beings.  All this and more can be found in Folktales of the Khasis by Mrs. K. U. Rafy (1920) and presented here is a retelling of the story What Makes the Lightning?

What Makes the Lightning?

The story begins in the young days of the world when animals socialized with people. They spoke their language and tried to copy human customs and manners.  Every thirteen moons the people held a great festival where there were many sports and events.  People competed against each other and demonstrated their abilities in many different activities and one of the most popular was the sword dance.  All the people from the hills and the forest would come and take part and it was a gay and happy time.   The animals loved this event and would watch the people competing, dancing and having fun and the younger beasts began to ask the elders for a festival of their own.  After considerable thought the elders agreed and said that the animals should appoint a day when their own festival should be held.

U Pyrthat’s Drum

With great enthusiasm the animals learnt all the skills and rules for the competitions and all the moves and steps for the dances.  When they were ready they set a date for the festival to begin, but no one knew how to let everyone know the event was taking place. Someone suggested that perhaps U Pyrthat, the thunder giant, would beat his drum to tell everyone the event was beginning.   U Pyrthat  agreed and began to beat his drum summoning all the animals to their great festival.  His drum could be heard in the farthest of hills and the most remote places of the forest and the animals flocked towards the sound excitedly and a soon a great multitude gathered around U Pyrthat and his drum.

The animals had gone to great trouble to prepare  grooming and preening themselves to look their very best.  Each one carried either a musical instrument or a weapon relevant to how they intended to participate in the festival events.  There was much merriment when the squirrel marched in banging on a small drum followed by a small bird called the Shakyllia playing a flute, who was followed by a porcupine clashing cymbals together. It was a very happy day and all the animals were jolly and laughing, sharing a jokes and having fun.  The mole looked up and saw the owl trying to dance but because her eyes were not used to daylight she kept bumping into objects.  The mole laughed so much his own eyes became narrowed and his vision unclear and that is how we find him today.

The Sword Dance of U Kui, the Lynx

When the fun and merriment reached its height U Kui, the lynx appeared carrying a most splendid silver sword which he had lavished a lot of money on.  He had bought it just for the festival because he wanted to show off his skills in the sword dance.  Calling everyone to attention he began his dance leaping and stepping with energy, grace and precision.  Everyone cheered and admired his elegance of movement and technique but his success went to his head and he began to see himself as better than the others.

U Pyrthat’s Sword Dance

U Pyrthat, the thunder giant, saw the performance of the lynx and was full of admiration for his dancing skills and was very impressed with the silver sword.  He had not brought a sword himself as he had brought the drum he used to summon everyone. Thinking that he should like to try a dance or two wielding such a fine sword he asked the lynx if he could borrow it as a favor. U Kui was reluctant to allow the thunder giant to borrow his silver sword not only because it was so fine and expensive but because he did not like the idea that he might be upstaged.   The crowd seeing his reluctance began to shout,

 “Shame! shame! shame!”  

and booed and hissed thinking that it was rude and ungracious of him to refuse being as the thunder giant had beat his drum to summon them all.  In the end the lynx was shamed into lending the the giant his sword and reluctantly the handed it to him.

Taking hold of the magnificent silver sword the thunder giant prepared himself to dance.  When he was ready he suddenly burst into life leaping high and whirling the flashing blade in circles all around him.  He danced so furiously and leapt high and the flashing blade dazzled everyone.  As he danced he beat on his drum so hard the earth shook and the animals fled in terror.

Thunder and Lightning

U Pyrthat was inspired by the silver sword and danced faster and faster, leaping higher and higher.  Carried away by his dancing and the wonderful blade he leaped right into the sky with the silver sword flashing all around him while he beat on his drum, the sound rumbling and crashing down to earth.  At times, the noise of the drum and the flashing of the sword are still heard and seen by people all around the world.  They called it thunder and lightning, but the Khasis people know that it is the drum of U Pyrthat, the thunder giant and the stolen sword of U Kui, the lynx, that the people hear and see.

U Kui’s Heartbreak

U Kui was heartbroken at the loss of his fine silver sword.  Folks say that afterwards he made his home near a great hill and would sit and look at the sky when U Pyrthat danced.  He kept piling stones upon the hill hoping one day to make it high enough to reach the sky where he hoped to to  reclaim his sword from the dancing thunder giant.

© 13/03/2019 zteve t evans

References, Attributions and Further Reading

Copyright March 13th, 2019 zteve t evans

Breton Folktales: Yannik, the Mad Thing of the Woods

Presented here is a retelling of a Breton folktale from Folk Tales of Brittany by Elsie Masson, called Yannik, the Fairy Child.

Yannik the Fairy Child

Once in a while – maybe once every one hundred years – someone appears among us who is different and somehow lightens our lives bringing hope and joy and easing our tired minds and aching bones. This story tells how such a one appeared and touched the hearts of all who encountered him. It begins in a time long ago in a village hidden in the woods in the wild, rugged, district of Finistère that is part of Brittany in France.  In those far off days the woods were a dangerous place full of savage bears, hungry wolves and other wild creatures. The villagers were poor and hard working, generous of heart and looked after one another. Life was hard and they lived upon the edge of survival from day to day.  They had no gold, silver or treasure they could use to relieve their poverty but it was in times such as these they were blessed by a different kind of treasure that appeared to enrich their lives.

Yannik

There appeared alone in the woods a feral boy the people called Yannik. Although he was as free as the birds that sing in the trees no sound had ever came from his silent lips until one glorious day, but even then only one word and one word alone would he repeatedly utter.  The villagers were poor but kindly folk and were both bemused and enchanted, not knowing how to treat him. Nevertheless, they grew to love, but never understand him. Sometimes he would appear as if in a world of his own and stand or sit and stare into space and look with eyes that saw right through you.  

Although he could never speak a word of thank you, he would show his gratitude by rewarding his benefactor with a big, beaming, smile.  It was a smile that would light up their lives filling them with love and happiness for this strange, feral boy of the woods. When someone gave him a pair of wooden clogs he walked proudly up and down with a big radiant smile, his fair face simply shining with joy.  Everyone knew the gratitude he felt because his smile was his only language and that said everything that mattered.

He was a  mystery. No one knew who he was, what he was, or where he came from. He was a rare and beautiful thing who ran naked through the woods bringing joy, peace and good fortune wherever he went.  Whether he had become lost, or had been abandoned, no one knew. All they knew was that he was there and they called him Yannik. He was like all joyous things in one, a peaceful presence, a silent soul that communicated by the radiance of his smile and the peaceful aura of his being.  Such was Yannik.

Although he appeared alone in the world anyone of the villagers would gladly have given him a home. Everyone loved him and he came and went between homes at his leisure. He would enjoy their hospitality for a short time and then disappear into the forest to run wild and people would leave him gifts of food and clothing.   Although one night he may sleep in the farmer’s cottage and the farmer’s wife provide a wholesome supper and cradle him until he slept, come daybreak his bed would be empty. They tried to keep him locked in thinking it would be for his own good. With out fail, he always managed to find a way out. Even in the snow season his footsteps would lead back to the forest to be among the birds and animals and the whispering trees he loved, for he was not something that could be confined or possessed.

The Fol Goët, The Fairy-Child

In the wilderness of the forest Yannik knew no fear and none feared him.  The bears knew him and greeted him with affection and the wolf trotted at his side and the birds of the forest perched upon his hand and sang wonderful songs.  Thus it was that in the pathless forest Yannik was sustained and guarded by those who dwelt within.


In the farms and the villages the men called him the “Fol Goët,” or “the mad thing of the woods” but not unkindly, while  the women called him the “fairy child.”  In the little local church the choir would sing and Yannik would carefully and quietly sneak inside to hide at the back listening to their songs with a look of sheer rapture and such joy in his shining eyes. The old priest tried to persuade him to stay with him that he may teach a word or two of speech, but Yannik would not stay.  Nevertheless, he would still come and listen to the singing, his face radiant and his eyes shining.

One summer evening he had been roaming happily in the fields and drawing near the church heard singing and went inside to listen.  It was a feast day and the church was full and the children’s choir was singing a hymn of praise and as he listened to the pure voices of the children dressed in their white robes, their voices took him higher and higher.  He could hear harps and other wonderful accompanying instruments and the children were singing,

“Glory! Glory! Glory!”

Leaving his place at the back with a look of rapture on his face and a big radiant smile Yannik slowly walked up the aisle his  arms stretched out before him as if he was blind. The singing stopped and all fell silent as they watched him approach the altar where he was met by the priest who met his hands with his own. There and then Yannik spoke the first and only word that would ever pass his lips,

“Glory!”

And then he sang over ans over again,

“Glory! Glory! Glory!”

And the children in the choir took up the song and the people in the congregation all sang,

“Glory! Glory! Glory!”

From then on Yannik would always be heard singing “Glory! Glory! Glory!” wherever he went.  When he was accompanying the priest on his rounds visiting the sick and elderly he sang it. When he was visiting one of the local people who were always glad to see him and feed him he sang it.  When he was alone running wild in the woods he sang it. Wherever he went he sang,

“Glory! Glory! Glory!”

And that was the only sound that ever came from his mouth.

Well, the world turned and one summer evening the people were making their way home from a hard day of labor in the fields.  As the smoke from the cooking fires began to rise slowly the air was filled with the music of silver bells and a clear, sweet voice was heard singing,

“Glory! Glory! Glory!”

The people came out of their homes in surprise.  They looked at the beautiful sunset sky and heard the music and the sweet voice and said,

“Surely, it is Yannik the silent boy of the woods and it is the Heavens singing with him!”

In the morning the old priest went down to open the church just as he always did and was surprised to find Yannik lying across the threshold of the door.  Gently and tenderly he stooped to rouse him speaking quiet words so as not to alarm him. As he gently cradled the boy’s head, to his sorrow he realized the sweet radiant smile on his young face had frozen and that life had left the body of the child.

The Church of Fol Goët.

The villagers were full of sorrow at the loss of their treasure and on that spot built a new church.  They built it tall and they built it strong and they added delicate and beautiful touches to show their love for the Fairy Child –  the “the mad thing of the woods”  –and they called it the Church of Fol Goët.

For many years after mothers and fathers would bring their silent ones there to be blessed. They hoped that if they could but speak one word that it might be one that expressed the joy and happiness they found in their children and their children might find in the world and if nothing else came from their lips they might sing,

“Glory! Glory! Glory!”

© 26/02/2019 zteve t evans

References, Attributions and Further Reading

Copyright February 26th, 2019 zteve t evans

Himalayan Folktales: Kulloo, the Faithful Dog


Simla Village Tales

Alice Elizabeth Dracott writing in her Introduction to her book,  Simla Village Tales, or Folk Tales from the Himalayas (1906) says,

“Himalayan folk-lore, with its beauty, wit, and mysticism, is a most fascinating study, and makes one grieve to think that the day is fast approaching when the honest rugged hill-folk of Northern India will lose their fireside tales under the influence of modern civilisation.  ….

… From their cradle under the shade of ancient deodars, beside the rocks, forests and streams of the mighty Himalayan mountains, have I sought these tales to place them upon the great Bookshelf of the World.”

The similar sentiments can expressed for the folklore of indigenous people all around the world. Although we cannot hold back time and should not try these stories hold the collective wisdom, hopes, fears and experience built up over many generations, often showing the common traits of different people from all around the world through time.

Presented here is a retelling of a folktale from this collection called Kulloo, A Faithful Dog, helping out his human master.  The theme of Animal Helper appears in different forms in folktales all around the world.  In this case the dog remains faithful even though his master killed him and returns from death to save his life.  There are other themes and principles also at play in the story which are found in stories from other cultures showing that they have much more in common with one another than often meets the eye.

Kulloo, the Faithful Dog

In the part of the world where this story is set a Bunniah is a kind of merchant or trader of various commodities and in this story there was a Bunniah who had a faithful dog named Kulloo who was his best friend.  One day the Bunniah decided he needed a wife and so he married a woman. Together, they traveled to a faraway city taking Kulloo with them. On the way he developed a raging headache so he stopped by the side of the road with his head resting in his wife’s lap.  While he was resting in this way he fell asleep and while he was sleeping a man who passed by on his horse stopped and asked the Bunniah’s wife if she had the means to light his pipe because he fancied a smoke. She told him “I cannot give you a light for your pipe as my husband is resting his head in my lap and I cannot move without disturbing him in his sleep.”

The man was in fact a robber who stole anything he took a fancy to and made a lot of money from stealing many things from many people.

“Slip some clothes under his head and he will not notice,” replied the man.  The woman did this and her husband continued to sleep soundly while she lit the man’s pipe.  Suddenly he grabbed hold of her and throwing her across his horse leapt into the saddle and carried her off.  

Abduction

After a while the Bunniah awoke and found his wife gone but his dog patiently and faithfully waiting by his side for him to awaken.   The dog told his master what had happened and said, “Master, if we become beggars we can go from door to door without suspicion begging for food while seeking out your wife.”

The Bunniah thought this a good plan so dressing in old clothes he and his faithful dog went begging from door to door.  After many days of begging the Bunniah eventually knocked on the door of the home of the abductor of his wife and it was she who answered the door.  She did not recognize her husband or the dog but gave them food and money. However, Kulloo recognised her and later asked his master if he had not recognized his wife when she opened the door.   His master admitted that he had not so and Kulloo led his master back to the house.

Once again the Bunniah knocked on the door and his wife opened it.  This time he made himself known to her and she recognising him and invited him in but she was in a quandary.  Her abductor had forced her to marry him but had given her a very high standard of living. This was, far greater than her first husband could ever have given her  which she had now become accustomed to. Nevertheless, she made a great act of seeing her first husband again and invited him to dinner that evening, telling him that when her abductor had fallen asleep then he would have the chance to kill him and escape with her.

The Trap

The Bunniah agreed and he and Kulloo went off intending to return later for dinner and to complete the plan.  However, when they had gone she called her abductor to her and they made a plan to kill her first husband and be rid of him once and for all.  They made a deep hole in the floor and placed a cover over it that would eventually collapse when weight would was placed upon it. She made sure everything was arranged it so her first husband would be seated over it as he ate.  

They installed spikes into the walls and floor so that as he fell he would be impaled and killed.   When the Bunniah returned for dinner their plan worked perfectly and he fell into the hole as he was eating.  His wife and her abductor went off to bed laughing believing him to be dead.   Although he was impaled on the spikes he was not mortally wounded but would have died had not his faithful Kulloo came and pulled out the pikes with his teeth freeing him and helping him to safety.   Looking around the Bunniah saw the abductor was asleep so he hit him hard over the head killing him and made his escape taking his wife with him.

There was a lot of blood and Kulloo saw that his master left a trail for others to follow so he came along behind lapping up the blood to prevent this.  Kulloo, being a wise dog, knew that his master’s wife was a wicked woman and would never rest until she had gained revenge.

Death of Kulloo

The Bunniah reclaimed his wife but she told him she would not eat or drink until Kullo was dead.  Of course the Bunniah refused to kill his faithful dog but his wife was adamant and began wasting away from lack of food.  The Bunniah implored her to eat but she insisted she would only do so when Kulloo was dead.  As she grew weaker her insistence grew stronger and eventually the Bunniah agreed to kill his faithful dog.

Poor Kulloo, knowing he was to be killed begged his master to make sure he buried him properly making sure his head, which was to be cut off, was buried beside him, because there would come a time when he would return to save his master’s life.  This the Bunniah did and his wife now ate and drank her fill but she was not satisfied and still wanted vengeance on her husband.

Return of Kulloo

She went to the local court and accused the Bunniah of being a robber and a murderer and claimed he had killed her husband and abducted her.  The sentence for such crimes was death and the Bunniah was put on trial and found guilty. Just as the judge was about to sentence him to death the Bunniah thought of his faithful Kulloo and in that second the dog appeared at his side and begged to speak to the judge.   The judge agreed and Kulloo revealed the entire story of how the Bunniah’s wife had been abducted and how she had plotted with her abductor to kill him.  The judge believed Kulloo and dismissed the charges against his master setting him free. Thus it was for the second time that the faithful Kulloo had saved the life of his master but now having completed his task he disappeared never to be seen again.

© 12/07/2016 zteve t evans

References, Attributions and Further Reading

Copyright zteve t evans

German Folktales: Paracelsus and the Spirit in the Fir Tree

Public domain, via Wikimedia Common

Paracelsus was an influential physician, astrologer and alchemist of the German Renaissance.  His real name was Theophrastus Aureolus Bombastus von Hohenheim and he was born in 1493. He was was a medical pioneer of his time and credited with many notable achievements and has  been called the father of toxicology.  The medical movement called Paracelsianism was named after him and followed his ideas.  Presented here is a retelling of a legend called The Legend of Paracelsus from a collection of German folktales called Folk-lore and Legends: German by Anonymous.

The Legend of Paracelsus

Paracelsus was a deep and thoughtful man and wanted to find ways to help people by curing their illness and disease but rarely had sufficient funds for research.  Sometimes he took himself away for long walks to contemplate how he could do this.  One day as he was out walking in a part of the forest where few ever roamed he heard someone calling his name.  Surprised and a little baffled he looked around but could see no one in view. Nevertheless, he could still hear someone calling his name so he followed the sound until he came to an old fir-tree but could see no sign of anyone there. Bewildered he looked all around and walked around the trunk but could see no one but could still hear someone calling his name.  Examining the trunk of the fir tree he saw that deeply embedded within the wood was a small stopper that had three crosses etched into it. It was from here that the voice appeared to be coming from. On closer examination he realized the stopper was imprisoning a spirit in the trunk of the fir tree.

The Spirit in the Tree

The spirit now begged and pleaded with him to remove the stopper and set it free, but Paracelsus was wary.  He thought about this for a while and then said,

“If you will bestow on me a medicine that will cure all illness and disease and also a tincture that will turn everything it touches to gold to fund my research, then I will remove the stopper and set you free.”

The spirit readily agreed and so Paracelsus took out a small knife he always carried and after some trouble managed to pry out the stopper and put it in his pocket for safe keeping.  From out of the dark void that the stopper had filled their crept a most hideous and huge black spider that scuttled down the trunk of the tree to the ground.  As soon as it touched the ground it transformed into the ghastly, thin,  hideous old man who rose up to stand tall, squinting with his red eyes into the surprised eyes of Paracelsus.

The old man led him through the forest breaking a branch off a hazel tree as they went and leading Paracelsus to a high rocky ledge that overlooked vast swathes of the forest.  With the hazel branch he struck the rock wall three times and it opened with a groan. The old man bid Paracelsus to wait and disappeared inside the opening. After a short time he returned carry two small glass phials. One contained a yellow fluid which he handed to Paracelsus telling him that anything the fluid came into contact with would instantly turn to gold.  The second contained a white fluid which he gave to him and told him that this would cure all illness and disease. He then stuck the rock face three times and the opening closed up leaving no trace of the opening it concealed.

The Evil Spirit

As they walked back through the forest Paracelsus began to think about the spirit growing increasingly uneasy in its company.   It told him that it would now travel to Innsprück to wreak vengeance upon the sorcerer who had imprisoned him in the fir tree.  Paracelsus now realized the spirit was evil and feared for the magician and the world for having released it and thought about how he could set things to right.  When they arrived back at the fir tree he said to the spirit,

“Clearly you are a most gifted and magical being!  I wonder if you would mind making a show of your magical gifts by turning yourself back into a spider and crawling into that hole in the tree’s trunk again, purely as an exhibition of your cleverness and magic?”

The spirit was still very pleased at being released and loved to be flattered and therefore readily agreed.  In and instant it had transformed itself into a hideous black spider and scuttled up the tree trunk into the hole. Paracelsus quickly took the stopper out of his pocket and rammed it tightly into the hole trapping the spirit in the tree again.  Quickly finding a heavy stone he hammered the stopper into the wood as tight as possible and then taking his knife cut three fresh crosses into the stopper.

Tricked

Suddenly realizing it had been tricked the spirit screamed and wailed making a hideous noise and shook the tree as if it was in the grip of a hurricane but the stopper held firm. Paracelsus made his way home knowing that the evil spirit would remain safely incarcerated in the fir tree which was high in the mountains and protected by snow drifts and very few people ever passed that way.  

The Two Phials

When he arrived home he tried out the two phials of fluid the evil one had given him and was pleased with their success. It is said that it was largely these that made him one of the most celebrated physicians and alchemists of his day.

© 05/02/2019 zteve t evans

References, Attributions and Further Reading

Copyright February 5, 2019 zteve t evans

Scottish Folktales: The Haunted Heath

Thomas Cole [Public domain]

This is  a retelling of a folktale called The Murder Hole, found in The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction Magazine, 1829 and believed to be set in an area of Scotland about three hundred years earlier.

The Murder Hole

In  a remote part of the country there exists a lonely road that runs for miles and miles through an empty and dreary landscape broken by the odd sharp hillock and tor  and a few scattered and tortured trees. On one side of the road stands and old stone cross that seems to stand as a bleak warning to the unwary traveler that they are crossing over a boundary into the unknown.  Beyond that lies a ruined, abandoned church. There are no flowers and In daylight the landscape appears to be covered in a mass of dull grey, green stringy grass but it is a deceptive and dangerous place. From the road the ground looks firm and solid but there  are bogs and marshes whose watery surface take on the grayness of the skies and hide their presence from the unwary and these stretch as far as the eye could see in all directions. The only time their presence can be seen plainly is at times when the veils that shroud this world from the next become thin such as at sunset just before they lift.  Then light from the dying sun strikes the watery surface revealing blood-stained pools and streams that appear from the landscape giving it a surreal and disturbing aspect. At such a time any traveler on that road would be vulnerable to their own thoughts as the veil lifts and the night creatures begin to roam through. The road was bad but it was better to keep upon it than risk the treacherous bogs and marshes that changed and shifted.  These were dangerous for those who did not know the area but the few locals who remained could find their way through safely.

The Hamlet

The only sign of human habitation were a few rough wooden huts clustered both sides of the road  that made up a small almost deserted hamlet situated in the center of this God forsaken place. Anyone using that road from either direction must eventually pass this place though it was not quite fully abandoned.   There had never been many people making their home in these parts at the best of times and slowly people drifted away to settle in a village beyond the moor telling in hushed tones of the malevolence that haunted that strange forsaken place.

Rumor

Rumors filtered out that some evil walked upon the moor and travelers used it less and less and then  only out of dire necessity and never at night. When people went missing, the people from the hamlet scoured the moor each time,  but no body or grave was ever found. No place that may serve as a hideaway was ever discovered that might have been used by those seeking concealment for some reason.

Nevertheless, over the years, people kept disappearing without a trace and the few inhabitants became fewer and fewer.   People told of the terrible black nights that fell upon the land and spoke of hearing the deathly silence broken by unearthly screams of anguish from some distant place on the heath.

A shepherd who had been out on the moor one evening came back with a terrifying account of how he had become lost in the featureless plane and came across three dark sinister figures.  They appeared to be locked in a terrible struggle, each exuding supernatural effort against the other until one of them slowly sank screaming into the very earth.

This along with similar sinister events persuaded the people of the hamlet to pack up their meager belongings and head for the safety of the village on the other side of the moor.  Eventually, the only inhabitants that remained were an old woman and her two sons who owned a humble but ramshackle cottage. They complained that they stayed because they were prisoners bound to this dreadful place by the chains of poverty

The few travelers who used the forsaken road now only did so in groups and would spend the day traveling together and rest up over night at the cottage of the old woman and her sons who were glad of the income they brought.  The lodgings were poor and basic but the safety of four walls around them and a roof over their heads was greater draw than traversing that haunted road in the dark. Sometimes by the firelight the cottagers would tell a story or two of the horrors of the moor and watch  in dark humor at the terror on the faces of their guests. After a sleepless night In the morning they would gladly pay their hosts and continue their journey glad to be gone

The Pedlar-Boy

It so happened that one storm night in November,  a young pedlar-boy rather than listen to the advice of locals and common sense travelled the road alone.  The year before he had traveled this road as part of a group of people and believed himself acquainted and prepared for what a solitary journey may bring but he was wrong

As the night fell and the wind blew he heard the cries and groans of the dying all around him.  Fearing to look to the left or to the right he forced himself onward. At last in the distance he saw the glimmer of a fire through a window and knew he was approaching the cottage and hurried towards it.  Remembering his last stay as a member of a large party he expected a warm welcome. The old woman had regaled them with terror tales and had appeared to take a shine to him begging him to stay

Reaching the door in relief he rapped loudly upon it but despite hearing a great deal of noise and confusion no one answered.  Thinking that the inhabitants might think it was supernatural visitor whom the old lady had spoken so much of on his last visit he looked through a side window.  As he looked he saw everyone was busy. The old woman was rubbing the stone floor and sprinkling a layer of sand over it. Her two sons appeared to be trying to push something large and bulky into a chest pushing the lid down and locking it.  The pedlar-boy tapped on the window seeking to attract their attention causing them all to jump in nervous surprise and glare malevolent at him. This shocked the boy who was expecting a friendly welcome after his last visit. Before he could do anything one of the men rushed out of cottage grabbing hold of him tightly and pulled him roughly inside.

“Wait, wait! I am not what you think I am!  I am only the poor pedlar-boy who came this way last year and you gave shelter. Don’t you  you remember me? I stayed with you last year and you asked me to stay. When I said I couldn’t. you invited me back at any time and here I am,” he said laughing adding, “I am not what you think I am.”

I am but a poor pedlar-boy all alone in the world.  If I died tomorrow know one would miss me – no one would mourn me.  I am completely and utterly alone! ”

The cottagers glared at him suspiciously and the old woman asked “Are you alone?”

“No one would miss you?”  asked the old woman in a whisper.

“No one in the world, ” he answered beginning to feel nervous and sorry for himself, “would shed a tear, or be remotely distressed  if I died this night!”

“Then indeed you are welcome here!” said the old woman looking at the other two slyly.

It was not the cold that made the pedlar-boy shiver and draw near the peat fire. He was thinking that the shelter of any of the dilapidated buildings in the ghost hamlet may have been a better choice than this. Despite the warmth of the fire he still felt chills running through him and now looking upon the sinister aspect of these three cottagers his apprehension grew. Nevertheless being alone and beyond any assistance he determined to conquer his fears, or at least suppress them to prevent them being revealed to his hosts

Nightmare

He was shown to a room that had the look about it that some violent confrontation had taken place.  The curtains hung in tatters, the table had been broken by some mighty blow and whatever scarce furniture graced the room, parts of it lay scattered on the floor.  The pedlar-boy begged for a candle to burn until he had drifted off to sleep and was reluctantly given one. When he had been left alone he explored further and found the door had been broken and to his consternation the latch and lock snapped off.

He tried to compose himself for sleep but his nerves were on edge. It had been a long arduous journey and he eventually drifted into an uneasy slumber.   In his sleep his imagination was working overtime and vivid scenes of terror and horror flashed through his mind. He was in a lucid world of fear where he saw himself being alone and wandering lost upon the haunted heath.  Something followed on behind and people appeared before him warning him not to enter the cottage before dissolving into mist before his eyes leaving naught but a hollow cry echoing in his mind. He found himself sat before the peat fire in the cottage with the three cottagers all looking upon him greedily.  Suddenly the old woman moved and grabbed his arms holding them behind his back and the two men rose and moved slowly towards him grinning malevolently. Then he heard the sound of a slow tortured cry and awoke with a start. Covered in a cold sweat he sat up in bed he listened but could hear nothing. As he gazed fearfully around him his eyes were caught by a movement under the door.   He stared in horror as a stream of bright red blood oozed silently and slowly underneath the door towards him

Escape

Jumping out of bed he crept to the door and peered through a crack into the next room.  Seeing the trail of blood came from a goat one of the men had just slaughtered relief swept over him.  Just as he was about to return to bed one of them spoke to the other saying,

“Hah! This was a far easier victim than last night’s.  It’s a pity all of the throats we have slit were not as quiet or as easy.  It is a good job we have no neighbours for miles around. The old man last night would have woken them all had they heard his cries for mercy.  How he howled when saw you were going to cut his throat!”

“Let’s not speak of it.  I hate blood shed!” replied the other

Oh, you do, do you?” laughed the first.

“I do and it is true.  I prefer the Murder Hole.  It tells no tales, leaves no trace.  There is nothing to get rid of after and no one will ever find them. No one will ever find it and if they do no one will suspect there are over forty dead bodies hidden within it.  It looks nothing more than a deep puddle and small enough for the long grass to bend over it concealing it. Unless you know you could stand next to it and never guess it was there or what it was.”

“Unless of course you step in it,”  replied the second.”

“Indeed, it’s a fact and it sucks them down, so quick, it is a wonder of nature!  How do you think we shall we end the pedlar-boy?” asked the old woman who stood watching hem and pointed towards the door which the pedlar boy was huddled behind trembling.  Her eldest son looked at her and with his knife in his hand and a look of sheer evil motioned his knife across throat.

Although terrified the pedlar-boy had lived all of his life alone in a never ending struggle against the odds of fate.  He had never given up and always won through and despite his fear and the odds against him he was not prepared to surrender his life easily.  One thing he had learnt was there was a time to fight and a time to fly and decided there and then flight to be the best answer. Creeping silently to the window he gently eased it up and slipped out silently.   Once outside he paused to get his bearings but was shaken to the core when he heard one of the men cry, “Curses!  He is gone!  He must have heard and will bring ruin upon us!”

“Let loose the bloodhound!” cried the other

“Make sure he does not escape,” cried the old woman, “do not bring him back here.  Use the Murder Hole for this!”

The Chase

w:Sidney Paget [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

The pedlar-boy’s heart stopped at these words  and he feared greatly for his life but he was determined and quickly roused himself and fled into the darkness of the haunted moor.   It was not long before the baying of the bloodhound broke the silence of the night as it picked up his trail. Forcing himself to greater speed he stumbled on through the night but could tell by the baying of the hound and the voices of the men they were gaining on him.

Although he struggled to see in the darkness the hound was unimpeded simply following his scent trail and grew nearer and nearer followed by the men carrying lanterns.   Again he redoubled his efforts and ran blindly through the night but caught his foot on pile of stones, tripping and cutting his hands and knees and staining the stones with his blood.  Stunned he lay on the ground panting and bleeding but hearing the baying of the dog growing louder and the men’s voices following he forced himself up and onward. It seemed like his feet had grown wings and he flew over the moor.  He heard the hound yapping and baying at the spot where he had fallen and if he had dared to have looked back he would have seen it lapping at his blood on the stones where he had lain. To the annoyance of the men it would not move from the spot but continued lapping up his blood regardless of how cruelly they beat it.  At last satiated with blood it refused to take up the scent a second time.

Justice

The villages dropped weighted hooks down the Murder Hole and brought up the bones of several victims.  It was impossible to tell how many more were down there or how they had been dispatched. There was also the question of what had happened to those who had not gone down the Murder Hole and some suspected these were disposed of in a in a less than savoury way.  Perhaps it is as well that we shall never know, but now at sunset when the veils grow thin and part three more wailing ghosts wander the haunted heath.

The pedlar-boy did not know this and continued his wild flight across the moors.  Luckily he did not fall into the bogs but found the road where he could run faster.  Although his assassins continued to seek him they could not find find him. As dawn broke he reached the village on the edge of the moors and knocking on every door raised the alarm.  After the villagers had managed to calm him enough for him to tell them his tale the light of realization dawned upon them. It was the cottagers who had been responsible for the disappearances of so many of their loved ones.  Forming themselves into a gang they marched to to the cottage and seized the old woman and her two son and took them back to the village for trial. The cottagers confessed to over fifty murders and took the villagers to show them the Murder Hole where they had disposed of so many of them.  They were duly tried and found guilty and three gibbets were quickly constructed and justice dispensed.

The villages dropped weighted hooks down the Murder Hole and brought up the bones of several victims.  It was impossible to tell how many more were down there. There was also the question of what had happened to those who had not gone down the Murder Hole and some suspected these were disposed of in a in a less than savory way.  Perhaps it is as well that we shall never know, but now at sunset when the veils grow thin and then part, three more wailing ghosts wander the haunted heath.

© 23/01/2019 zteve t evans

References, Attributions and Further Reading

Copyright January 23rd, 2019 zteve t evans