A Gift from Saint Nicholas

Claas Schlaschenschlinger was a wealthy cobbler living on New Street in New Amsterdam. He was a contented bachelor who could afford eight - eight mind you! - pairs of breeches and he had a little side business selling geese. He cut quite a figure in New Amsterdam society, and was happy being single, until he met the fair Anitje! She was as pretty as a picture, and Claas fell head over heels for her. He was not her only suitor, by any means. The local burgomaster was also courting the fair Anitje. But the burgomaster was a stingy, hard man, and in the end, Anitje gave her heart and hand to Claas. 

At first, Claas and Anitje were very happy and prosperous, raising geese and children. But t
burgomaster was a vengeful sort of fellow, who began a series of "improvements" to the local neighborhood, charging highly for each one, until all their money was gone. The arrival of a blacksmith who repaired shoes with hob nails, so that the shoes lasted a year or more, left Claas, Anitje and their six children as poor as church mice. 

A Gift from Saint Nicholas

The Harvest That Never Came A Swedish Legend

My dearest Arild,

I promised to wait for you forever, but I fear I will not be allowed to. My father says you will never return, and he has chosen another man to be my husband. Though I pleaded with him, he has already set the marriage date.

I will love you always.

Your faithful Thale

Arild Ugerup, son of a noble Danish family, sat on his cot, reading the letter by the dim light of his prison cell. How cruel the tricks played by war, he thought, his eyes filling with tears.

Though Arild and his family were nobles of Denmark, they had long lived peaceably in Sweden. When King Erik of Sweden was crowned, Arild had been one of his honored guests. But then Denmark and Sweden declared war on each other, and Arild was drafted into the Danish navy. He was captured in battle and imprisoned by King Erik.

Arild’s childhood sweetheart, Thale Thott, had promised to marry him when he came back from the war. Now it seemed he would lose Thale as well as his freedom.

Arild sat thinking for many hours, the letter lying loose in his hand. At last he crossed to a small table. Dipping his pen in an inkwell, he began to write.

Your Royal Majesty,

Though I am now your prisoner, you once counted me as a friend. Grant me one favor. Let me go home to marry the woman I love. Then allow me to stay only long enough to plant a crop and harvest it.

On my word of honor, I will return to your prison as soon as the harvest is gathered.

The Harvest That Never Came A Swedish Legend

The Gorgon: A Story of Medusa

Once upon a time, there lived a Gorgon, and she was the meanest, ugliest creature that ever lived, or so I am told, though I have never met her, so it might just be hearsay. The Gorgon lived all alone in a ruined temple by the sea. No one ever visited the Gorgon, for with but a glance, the Gorgon could turn any creature into stone. Her hair was a writhing mass of snakes, and her body that of a woman, but her torso ended in a serpantine coil of golden scales. Two great feathery wings protruded from her back, like a gryphon's, but these lovely appendages only rendered the rest of this monster more grotesque in appearance. Now, I can’t imagine who it was who brought back such a vivid account of this fell creature, for as far as I know for certain, none have ever returned from the Gorgon’s lair. But this is what I have heard of her.
One day, there was a youth named Darius, who, sailing to Carthage, was caught up in a terrible storm. Darius’ ship sank beneath the waves, and he awoke on the beach of a small island. Weary and hungry, Darius nonetheless out on foot for help to return to his native Greece. He knew he had to continue, and drew upon all his strength to aid him in his journey home. After some time traveling on foot, Darius came upon a ruined temple halfway up a rocky cliff. By now Darius was growing tired but even more hungry, so he decided to climb the cliff.

The Gorgon: A Story of Medusa

Armadillo's Song

There once lived an armadillo who loved music more than anything else in the world. After every rainfall, the armadillo would drag his shell over to the large pond filled with frogs and he would listen to the big green frogs singing back and forth, back and forth to each other in the most amazing voices.
"Oh," thought the armadillo, "Oh how I wish I could sing."
The armadillo would creep to the edge of the water and watch the frogs leaping and swimming in a frantic green ballet, and they would call back and forth, back and forth in beautiful, musical tones. He loved to listen to the music they made as they spoke, though he didn't understand their words; which was just as well - for the frogs were laughing at this funny animal that wanted so badly to sing like a frog.
"Don't be ridiculous," sang the frogs as they played. "Armadillos can't sing."
Then one day a family of crickets moved into a new house near the armadillo, and he was amazed to hear them chirp and sing as merrily as the frogs. He would creep next to their house and listen and listen all day, all night for their musical sounds.
"Oh," sighed the armadillo, "Oh how I wish I could sing."
"Don't be ridiculous," sang the crickets in their dulcet tones. "Armadillos can't sing."
But the armadillo could not understand their language, and so he just sighed with longing and listened to their beautiful voices laughing at him.

Armadillo's Song

Heron and the Hummingbird

Heron and Hummingbird were very good friends, even though one was tall and gangly and awkward and one was small and sleek and fast. They both loved to eat fish. The Hummingbird preferred small fish like minnows and Heron liked the large ones.
One day, Hummingbird said to his friend: "I am not sure there are enough fish in the world for both of our kind to eat. Why don't we have a race to see which of us should own the fish?"
Heron thought that was a very good idea. They decided that they would race for four days. The finish line was an old dead tree next to a far-away river. Whichever of them sat on top of the tree first on the fourth day of the race would own all the fish in the world.
They started out the next morning. The Hummingbird zipped along, flying around and around the Heron, who was moving steadily forward, flapping his giant wings. Then Hummingbird would be distracted by the pretty flowers along the way. He would flit from one to the other, tasting the nectar. When Hummingbird noticed that Heron was ahead of him, he hurried to catch up with him, zooming ahead as fast as he could, and leaving Heron far behind. Heron just kept flying steadily forward, flapping his giant wings.
Hummingbird was tired from all his flitting. When it got dark, he decided to rest. He found a nice spot to perch and slept all night long. But Heron just kept flying steadily forward all night long, flapping his giant wings.

Heron and the Hummingbird

Spirit Lodge

The great chief Quaquahela lived in peace with his people on the banks of the River Styx where it entered the lake waters. Their lives were busy and full. The warriors hunted and fished, the women cooked and cared for the old and the young, and all lived in peace with the natural world around them.
Quaquahela determined one day to visit with a tribe far to the south of their village. He set out at dusk, paddling across the lake, and then walking inland towards the lodge of a friend, where he would spend the night before resuming his journey. He had gone only a few yards from the lake shore when he heard a terrible snarling, and a huge bear came bursting forth out of the bushes nearby. Quaquahela was well-armed with his war club and his hunting gear, but the bear was his totem, and so it was forbidden for him to kill the creature. Thus he fled back toward his canoe, intent on escape. But the enraged bear threw itself forward and knocked him to the ground.
Desperate now, Quaquahela wrestled with the bear, beating it repeatedly with his war club, trying to drive it off. Blood stained the ground from many wounds as the bear fought with the mighty chief. At last, the chief drew his knife and stabbed the bear repeatedly around the head and throat until it released him with a final, blood-chilling growl. Quaquahela crawled away from the bear and collapsed on the ground. His body was torn and broken, his wounds grievous. He turned himself over with great effort and looked toward his enemy, his totem. The bear was dead. With a moan of contrition and despair, Quaquahela's head fell back to the earth as he succumbed to his injuries. He died a moment later.

Spirit Lodge

Nyami Nyami The Zambezi River God

African mythology of the local Tonga tribe of the Zambezi Valley states that Nyaminyami the River God who lives in Lake Kariba is believed to be a serpent-like creature. He is said to be about three metres wide, but nobody dares to guess at his length.
Legends has it that the water stains red when he swims past. Chief Sampakaruma saw him on two occasions many years ago, but the river god has been in hiding since the white men arrived in the country. According to African mythology he lived under a large rock close to the present day Kariba dam wall. No tribesman would venture near it those few who did were sucked down with their canoes in the whirlpools and never seen again. They called the rock Kariwa, the "trap" and hence the name of the lake, Kariba.

Nyami Nyami The Zambezi River God

Legend of Vong Phu

Once upon a time there lived in the highland of northern Vietnam a boy orphaned of both his mother and father. He lived with his little sister in a small cottage on the slopes of a hill.

Every day at early dawn he went to the forest not far from his house to chop wood. He took the wood to the market to sell for food and provisions. The rest of the day he devoted to his little sister, whom he cherished and cared for lovingly.

The brother and sister were very happy in their small cottage, until, one day, a stranger arrived. The newcomer was an old man, who, passing by the place one evening, asked for lodging.

When the brother learned that the stranger was a prophet, he eagerly requested his guest to foretell the future. The old man referred to his book and told the boy: "The date and hour of your birth most certainly indicate that you will some day marry your own sister."

The old man continued: "It is irrevocable. No-one can act against his fate." The boy regarded the old man's words as nonsense and did not care about them any more.

One nice day, the young man brought his sister with him to the forests. There, the little girl was watching and listening to the birds, while her brother chopped wood.

Legend of Vong Phu

Soul move

Very long ago, there lived a young man named Truong Ba who was very good at Chinese chess. Truong Ba's fame as a chess player spread far and wide, throughout Vietnam and even China.

At that time, the Chinese chess champion was a man named Ky Nhu. When he heard of Truong Ba, Ky Nhu set off to Vietnam to challenge his rival to a game. They played two games, each of which ended in a draw. During the third game, Ky Nhu got into trouble. Seeing that his opponent was trapped, Truong Ba said haughtily: "Even the Chess Deity De Thich could not find a way out of my moves."

Upon hearing Truong Ea's words, the Chess Deity decided to teach the young man a lesson. As Truong Ba and Ky Nhu sat hunched over the chessboard, an old man came to sit nearby. This old fellow made a suggestion to Ky Nhu, who followed his advice and won a dazzling victory.

Truong Ba was furious but, seeing the old man's glowing white beard, it occurred to him that he might be a god. To play it safe, Truong Ba sank down on one knee before the old man and said: "You must be De Thich. I am terribly sorry."

Soul move

The Gecko's tale

Everyone in Vietnam has heard the gecko's call but few remember how the tiny lizard got its voice.

Long ago, there lived a man named Gecko, who, together with his wife, survived by begging. They were a frugal pair and, despite their poverty, managed to put aside a tiny portion of the food or money they were given. Eventually, their savings added up and Gecko took great pleasure in courting his hidden nest-egg.

One evening, on his way home, Gecko saw two water buffaloes fighting: "This is a sign," he told his wife, "A terrible storm is approaching. Can't you feel it in your bones?" Following his hunch, Gecko took their savings and bought bags of rice.

Sure enough, a typhoon hit the next day. The river overflowed its banks and still the rain continued. Crops, livestock, houses and even a few unlucky villagers were swept away by the flood's fury. When the skies finally cleaned, the fields were in ruins; there would be no harvest that autumn.

The village, normally so prosperous, had a new resident: Hunger had moved in, and only Gecko welcomed his arrival. Finally, when the price of rice had climbed to ten times its usual value, he brought out his hidden bags of grain. "We are rich," he laughed, clapping his wife on the back. "I'll lend you money to rebuild your houses," he told his neighbours, and then proceeded to charge outrageous interest rates.

As Gecko's wealth increased, so did his greed. He opened a pawn shop, befriended pirates and thieves, and took to reselling stolen property.

The Gecko's tale

Van Lich's coins

Once upon a time, there lived a merchant named Van Lich. One of the richest men of his generation, Van Lich owned nearly one hundred trading ships, all of which were laden with furniture crafted from solid silver and gold.

Despite Van Lich's wealth, he was unhappy. His business forced him to travel a great deal and, during these trips, he suspected that his wife, the young and beautiful Mai Thi, was unfaithful.

One day, Van Lich's ship cast anchor in a lonely river. A fisherman approached Mai Thi, who was sitting on the prow, and asked her for a quid of betel. Feeling sorry for this poor fisherman, Mai Thi gladly gave him some betel.

Seeing this, Van Lich flew into a jealous rage. When the fisherman had gone, he ordered his wife to leave. Carrying the one bar of gold and one bar of silver given to her by her enraged husband, Mai Thi set off down the shore. She had not gone far when she met the fisherman. Mai Thi sobbed as she told her story to the astonished fisherman.

"My husband thought that I was in love with you," cried Mai Thi.

Van Lich's coins

Moll DeGrow

Moll DeGrow was a wicked witch who once lived on Gully Road in what is now Newark, New Jersey. She took delight in the misery of others, and made things miserable for the folks living near her. If a neighbor slighted her, she would sour their milk. If anyone called her a witch, she made their dogs turn vicious. People were very cautious around Moll De Grow.
When a new family moved in, their grown-up son took offense with the witch's rude behavior toward his mother and told her off. That night, an evil black dog with glowing red eyes emerged from the woods in front of his horse. The horse bolted and the dog raced after it,leaping up to bite at his tail and sides. The young man was struck by a low-hanging branch and fell lifeless to the ground. The hound howled once in triumph and then disappeared in a puff of acrid smoke, leaving the terrified horse to walk trembling back to its dead master and stand guard until his body was found.

Moll DeGrow

Ghost Ship of Captain Sandovate

When Captain Don Sandovate voyaged from Spain to the New World in search of treasure, he found gold in abundance. But among his crew there were many sailors who did not wish to share the new-found wealth with the monarchs of Spain. On their journey up the Atlantic Coast, the sailors mutinied and imprisoned their captain, tying him to the main mast and refusing to give him food or drink. Day after day, the captain lay exposed to the hot sun of summer, his body drying up as the treacherous sailors worked around him. Finally, his pride broken, Don Sandovate begged: "Water. Please. Give me just one sip of water." The mutineers found this amusing, and started carrying water up to the main mast and holding it just out of reach of their former captain.
In the terrible heat of a dry summer, the captain did not survive long without water. A few days after the mutiny, the captain succumbed to heat and thirst. The new captain, a greedy Spaniard with no compassion in his soul, left Don Sandovate tied to the mast, his body withering away, while the ship turned pirate and plundered its way up the coast. But Providence was watching the ruthless men, and a terrible storm arose and drove the ship deep into the Atlantic, where it sank with all hands, the body of Don Sandovate still tied to the broken mast.

Ghost Ship of Captain Sandovate

Blackbeard's Ghost

The nefarious pirate Blackbeard (who's real name was Edward Teach) was a tall man with a very long black beard that covered most of his face and extended down to his waist. He tied his beard up in pigtails adorned with black ribbons. He wore a bandolier over his shoulders with three braces of pistols and sometimes he would hang two slow-burning cannon fuses from his fur cap that wreathed his head in black smoke. Occasionally, he would set fire to his rum using gunpowder, and he would drink it, flames and all. Many people thought he was the Devil incarnate.
For twenty-seven months, Blackbeard terrorized the sailors of the Atlantic and the Caribbean, ambushing ships and stealing their cargo, killing those who opposed him, often attacking in the dim light of dawn or dusk when his pirate ship was most difficult to see. He would sail under the flag of a country friendly to the nationality of the ship he was attacking, and then hoist his pirate flag at the last moment. When prisoners surrendered willingly, he spared them. When they did not, his magnanimity failed. One man refused to give up a diamond ring he was wearing and the pirate cut the ring off, finger and all. Once Blackbeard blockaded Charleston, South Carolina with his ships, taking many wealthy citizens hostage until the townspeople met his ransom. Later, Blackbeard ran one of his ships - the Queen Anne's Revenge - aground. Some say he did it on purpose because he wanted to break up the pirate fleet and steal the booty for himself.

Blackbeard's Ghost

THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW

In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened sail, and implored the protection of St. Nicholas when they crossed, there lies a small market-town or rural port, which by some is called Greensburgh, but which is more generally and properly known by the name of Tarry Town. This name was given, we are told, in former days, by the good housewives of the adjacent country, from the inveterate propensity of their husbands to linger about the village tavern on market days.

  Be that as it may, I do not vouch for the fact, but merely advert to it, for the sake of being precise and authentic. Not far from this village, perhaps about two miles, there is a little valley, or rather lap of land, among high hills, which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook glides through it, with just murmur enough to lull one to repose; and the occasional whistle of a quail, or tapping of a woodpecker, is almost the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform tranquillity.

THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW

THE DEMON BUTCHER OF PALOS PARK

In the 1890s, in Palos Park, a man by the name of Butcher had a butcher shop that was doing well until a big depression hit America. Livestock was hard to come by and many other butchers and stockyards went out of business. Butcher had good links and was able to stay in business but had to raise his prices due to the shortage of meat.
A shipment of beef came one day and Butcher's trainee was carrying the load to the basement meat locker. He tried to take to much at one time and he fell down the stairs. His neck snapped and he died on the spot.
Butcher didn't know what to do, he thought that the police would think that he pushed him down the stairs. Instead of telling anybody he hid the body in the meat locker.

THE DEMON BUTCHER OF PALOS PARK

The Legend of Rolling Hills Asylum Bethany NY

Rolling Hills Asylum,Bethany NY

Rolling Hills Asylum has quite a bizarre history, if I don't say so myself.  In it's lifespan, the building has been an insane asylum, poor house, poor farm, nursing home, tuberculosis ward, orphanage, school , ward, antique co-op, and craft mall. Quite a history since the property has settled for over a hundred years now.   The history of the building has records of over a thousand people who have died on the property.  The mall, opened on the weekends has a number of strange occurrences.  People report having their clothes tugged on by an invisible force they can't explain.  Many people have seen shadows of people moving through out the building when it is known the building to be locked up and empty. 
Genesee County purchased this property in 1826 and opened its doors to the poor in 1827. They had taken to paupers, the insane, orphans, unwed mothers, the elderly, and anyone who could not support and care for themselves.  They were a complete  a self sufficient, as they farmed on the 100's of acres of owned by the county.  By 1950, the property was used for a nursing home only and the residents had been moved to a new facility in nearby Batavia in 1974.  By then the building sat empty for twenty years. By 1992, it was reopened as Carriage Village, a mall of unique shops. By 2002 Jeff and Lori Carlson purchased the property and in January of 2003 they had renamed it the Rolling HIlls Country Mall.  But problems arose and in 2007, the mall had closed.  Today, the Carlsons live on the premises in one of the outbuildings converted from the old carpenter shop / maintenance barn to a four bedroom home.

The Legend of Rolling Hills Asylum Bethany NY

The Goatman Legend Of Prince George's County

There exists a creature in Maryland known as the Goatman. Whether it is Maryland "legend" or Maryland "reality" is a question that remains unanswered but there are enough witnesses and circumstantial evidence to keep the Goatman's name alive.
When one first hears of the elusive monster they may be overwhelmed by laughter at such an odd sounding menace, or baffled at how such a thing came to be thought up. No matter what the initial reaction a person has, it soon gives way to curiosity: what the heck is a Goatman? While the facts may be disputed the details in every story remain the same; an angered humanoid emerges from the forest and returns to its abode without a trace. The invariable description is that of an upright creature but beyond that the appearance varies. Some have claimed that the Goatman has a human body with a goat's head, similar to the perception of Satan, while others insist that the Goatman has a goat's lower body with the torso of a human, much like the satyr of Greek mythology. There is another school of observers/speculators whose description is not as definitive and say simply that he is an exceptionally hairy humanoid creature roughly six feet in height. Regardless of the physiognomy the Goatman legends do share one common theme and that is Maryland or, more precisely, Prince George's County.

The Goatman Legend Of Prince George's County

Legend Of The Irish Pooka

The Irish Pooka has struck the imagination of many artists and writers. Flann O'Brien, in his deliberately bog-Irish novel "At Swim-Two-Birds", gives one of the best descriptions of a Pooka. An English equivalent is found in Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream" as Puck, or Robin Goodfellow. In English folklore this ties in with the history of The Green Man. In Ireland the Pooka is classed among The Little People, although most reports say that a Pooka in human form is just as big as a normal person. Pookas are also known to take animal form, in particular as horses or cattle. W.B. Yeats in "Fairy and Folk Tales" writes along these lines.

A web search for "Pooka" will produce fascinating references to artists, poets and writers. Also dogs.

Many small mountain lakes and springs in Ireland are known as The Pooka's Pool, or Pollaphuca. Some of these are at the source of major Irish rivers such as the Liffey and the River Bann. Pollaphuca in The Mountains of Mourne is home to a Pooka of noteriety in Co Down. In recent times, the last thousand years or so, some of these places have been renamed as St Patrick's Well.

Legend Of The Irish Pooka

Who Is The Mothman?

In the fall of 1966, life took a turn into the Twilight Zone for the residents of Point Pleasant, West Virginia. The story begins in a remote location near Point Pleasant, known by the local teens as T.N.T. It was a favorite spot for parking and partying, far from the censorious eyes of their elders. The area is covered with dense forest, steep hills and tunnels. This area had been set up as the McClintic Wildlife Preserve in the 1900s, mostly as a bird sanctuary. Then, part of the land had been taken over during WWII as an underground storage site for wartime explosives. After the war, parts of the preserve had been leased or sold to chemical companies - and biochemistry came to this isolated area. Some, or all, of that history may have played a part in what happened next.

Two young married couples, Mr. and Mrs. Roger Scarberry and Mr. and Mrs. Steve Mallette, drove through the T.N.T area on November 15th, 1966. They were looking for friends who often came to the area. At about 11:30, they reached an old generator plant on the preserve. The door to the plant appeared to have been ripped off its hinges and the couples saw a bizarre creature. They later reported that the creature looked like a man - though about 7 feet tall - and had wings folded against its back. However, the most striking thing about it was its eyes. They were huge, like bicycle reflectors and the young people described them as hypnotic.

Who Is The Mothman?