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Berenice by Edgar Allan Poe

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Dicebant mihi sodales, si sepulchrum amicae visitarem, curas meas aliquantulum forelevatas.
—Ebn Zaiat.

MISERY is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch—as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow! How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness?—from the covenant of peace, a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are, have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.

My baptismal name is Egaeus; that of my family I will not mention. Yet there are no towers in the land more time-honored than my gloomy, gray, hereditary halls. Our line has been called a race of visionaries; and in many striking particulars—in the character of the family mansion—in the frescos of the chief saloon—in the tapestries of the dormitories—in the chiselling of some buttresses in the armory—but more especially in the gallery of antique paintings—in the fashion of the library chamber—and, lastly, in the very peculiar nature of the library’s contents—there is more than sufficient evidence to warrant the belief.

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The recollections of my earliest years are connected with that chamber, and with its volumes—of which latter I will say no more. Here died my mother. Herein was I born. But it is mere idleness to say that I had not lived before—that the soul has no previous existence. You deny it?—let us not argue the matter. Convinced myself, I seek not to convince. There is, however, a remembrance of aerial forms—of spiritual and meaning eyes—of sounds, musical yet sad—a remembrance which will not be excluded; a memory like a shadow—vague, variable, indefinite, unsteady; and like a shadow, too, in the impossibility of my getting rid of it while the sunlight of my reason shall exist.

In that chamber was I born. Thus awaking from the long night of what seemed, but was not, nonentity, at once into the very regions of fairy land—into a palace of imagination—into the wild dominions of monastic thought and erudition—it is not singular that I gazed around me with a startled and ardent eye—that I loitered away my boyhood in books, and dissipated my youth in reverie; but it is singular that as years rolled away, and the noon of manhood found me still in the mansion of my fathers—it is wonderful what stagnation there fell upon the springs of my life—wonderful how total an inversion took place in the character of my commonest thought. The realities of the world affected me as visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became, in turn, not the material of my every-day existence, but in very deed that existence utterly and solely in itself.

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Berenice and I were cousins, and we grew up together in my paternal halls. Yet differently we grew—I, ill of health, and buried in gloom—she, agile, graceful, and overflowing with energy; hers, the ramble on the hill-side—mine the studies of the cloister; I, living within my own heart, and addicted, body and soul, to the most intense and painful meditation—she, roaming carelessly through life, with no thought of the shadows in her path, or the silent flight of the raven-winged hours. Berenice!—I call upon her name—Berenice!—and from the gray ruins of memory a thousand tumultuous recollections are startled at the sound! Ah, vividly is her image before me now, as in the early days of her light-heartedness and joy! Oh, gorgeous yet fantastic beauty! Oh, sylph amid the shrubberies of Arnheim! Oh, Naiad among its fountains! And then—then all is mystery and terror, and a tale which should not be told. Disease—a fatal disease, fell like the simoon upon her frame; and, even while I gazed upon her, the spirit of change swept over her, pervading her mind, her habits, and her character, and, in a manner the most subtle and terrible, disturbing even the identity of her person! Alas! the destroyer came and went!—and the victim—where is she? I knew her not—or knew her no longer as Berenice.

Illustration for Edgar Allan Poe’s story “Berenice” by Harry Clarke (1889-1931), published in 1919.

Among the numerous train of maladies superinduced by that fatal and primary one which effected a revolution of so horrible a kind in the moral and physical being of my cousin, may be mentioned as the most distressing and obstinate in its nature, a species of epilepsy not unfrequently terminating in trance itself—trance very nearly resembling positive dissolution, and from which her manner of recovery was in most instances, startlingly abrupt. In the mean time my own disease—for I have been told that I should call it by no other appellation—my own disease, then, grew rapidly upon me, and assumed finally a monomaniac character of a novel and extraordinary form—hourly and momently gaining vigor—and at length obtaining over me the most incomprehensible ascendancy. This monomania, if I must so term it, consisted in a morbid irritability of those properties of the mind in metaphysical science termed the attentive. It is more than probable that I am not understood; but I fear, indeed, that it is in no manner possible to convey to the mind of the merely general reader, an adequate idea of that nervous intensity of interest with which, in my case, the powers of meditation (not to speak technically) busied and buried themselves, in the contemplation of even the most ordinary objects of the universe.

To muse for long unwearied hours, with my attention riveted to some frivolous device on the margin, or in the typography of a book; to become absorbed, for the better part of a summer’s day, in a quaint shadow falling aslant upon the tapestry or upon the floor; to lose myself, for an entire night, in watching the steady flame of a lamp, or the embers of a fire; to dream away whole days over the perfume of a flower; to repeat, monotonously, some common word, until the sound, by dint of frequent repetition, ceased to convey any idea whatever to the mind; to lose all sense of motion or physical existence, by means of absolute bodily quiescence long and obstinately persevered in: such were a few of the most common and least pernicious vagaries induced by a condition of the mental faculties, not, indeed, altogether unparalleled, but certainly bidding defiance to anything like analysis or explanation.

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Yet let me not be misapprehended. The undue, earnest, and morbid attention thus excited by objects in their own nature frivolous, must not be confounded in character with that ruminating propensity common to all mankind, and more especially indulged in by persons of ardent imagination. It was not even, as might be at first supposed, an extreme condition, or exaggeration of such propensity, but primarily and essentially distinct and different. In the one instance, the dreamer, or enthusiast, being interested by an object usually not frivolous, imperceptibly loses sight of this object in a wilderness of deductions and suggestions issuing therefrom, until, at the conclusion of a day dream often replete with luxury, he finds the incitamentum, or first cause of his musings, entirely vanished and forgotten. In my case, the primary object was invariably frivolous, although assuming, through the medium of my distempered vision, a refracted and unreal importance. Few deductions, if any, were made; and those few pertinaciously returning in upon the original object as a centre. The meditations were never pleasurable; and, at the termination of the reverie, the first cause, so far from being out of sight, had attained that supernaturally exaggerated interest which was the prevailing feature of the disease. In a word, the powers of mind more particularly exercised were, with me, as I have said before, the attentive, and are, with the day-dreamer, the speculative.

My books, at this epoch, if they did not actually serve to irritate the disorder, partook, it will be perceived, largely, in their imaginative and inconsequential nature, of the characteristic qualities of the disorder itself. I well remember, among others, the treatise of the noble Italian, Coelius Secundus Curio, “De Amplitudine Beati Regni Dei;” St. Austin’s great work, the “City of God;” and Tertullian’s “De Carne Christi,” in which the paradoxical sentence “Mortuus est Dei filius; credible est quia ineptum est: et sepultus resurrexit; certum est quia impossibile est,” occupied my undivided time, for many weeks of laborious and fruitless investigation.

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Thus it will appear that, shaken from its balance only by trivial things, my reason bore resemblance to that ocean-crag spoken of by Ptolemy Hephestion, which steadily resisting the attacks of human violence, and the fiercer fury of the waters and the winds, trembled only to the touch of the flower called Asphodel. And although, to a careless thinker, it might appear a matter beyond doubt, that the alteration produced by her unhappy malady, in the moral condition of Berenice, would afford me many objects for the exercise of that intense and abnormal meditation whose nature I have been at some trouble in explaining, yet such was not in any degree the case. In the lucid intervals of my infirmity, her calamity, indeed, gave me pain, and, taking deeply to heart that total wreck of her fair and gentle life, I did not fail to ponder, frequently and bitterly, upon the wonder-working means by which so strange a revolution had been so suddenly brought to pass. But these reflections partook not of the idiosyncrasy of my disease, and were such as would have occurred, under similar circumstances, to the ordinary mass of mankind. True to its own character, my disorder revelled in the less important but more startling changes wrought in the physical frame of Berenice—in the singular and most appalling distortion of her personal identity.

During the brightest days of her unparalleled beauty, most surely I had never loved her. In the strange anomaly of my existence, feelings with me, had never been of the heart, and my passions always were of the mind. Through the gray of the early morning—among the trellised shadows of the forest at noonday—and in the silence of my library at night—she had flitted by my eyes, and I had seen her—not as the living and breathing Berenice, but as the Berenice of a dream; not as a being of the earth, earthy, but as the abstraction of such a being; not as a thing to admire, but to analyze; not as an object of love, but as the theme of the most abstruse although desultory speculation. And now—now I shuddered in her presence, and grew pale at her approach; yet, bitterly lamenting her fallen and desolate condition, I called to mind that she had loved me long, and, in an evil moment, I spoke to her of marriage.

And at length the period of our nuptials was approaching, when, upon an afternoon in the winter of the year—one of those unseasonably warm, calm, and misty days which are the nurse of the beautiful Halcyon (*1),—I sat, (and sat, as I thought, alone,) in the inner apartment of the library. But, uplifting my eyes, I saw that Berenice stood before me.

Was it my own excited imagination—or the misty influence of the atmosphere—or the uncertain twilight of the chamber—or the gray draperies which fell around her figure—that caused in it so vacillating and indistinct an outline? I could not tell. She spoke no word; and I—not for worlds could I have uttered a syllable. An icy chill ran through my frame; a sense of insufferable anxiety oppressed me; a consuming curiosity pervaded my soul; and sinking back upon the chair, I remained for some time breathless and motionless, with my eyes riveted upon her person. Alas! its emaciation was excessive, and not one vestige of the former being lurked in any single line of the contour. My burning glances at length fell upon the face.

The forehead was high, and very pale, and singularly placid; and the once jetty hair fell partially over it, and overshadowed the hollow temples with innumerable ringlets, now of a vivid yellow, and jarring discordantly, in their fantastic character, with the reigning melancholy of the countenance. The eyes were lifeless, and lustreless, and seemingly pupilless, and I shrank involuntarily from their glassy stare to the contemplation of the thin and shrunken lips. They parted; and in a smile of peculiar meaning, the teeth of the changed Berenice disclosed themselves slowly to my view. Would to God that I had never beheld them, or that, having done so, I had died!

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The shutting of a door disturbed me, and, looking up, I found that my cousin had departed from the chamber. But from the disordered chamber of my brain, had not, alas! departed, and would not be driven away, the white and ghastly spectrum of the teeth. Not a speck on their surface—not a shade on their enamel—not an indenture in their edges—but what that period of her smile had sufficed to brand in upon my memory. I saw them now even more unequivocally than I beheld them then. The teeth!—the teeth!—they were here, and there, and everywhere, and visibly and palpably before me; long, narrow, and excessively white, with the pale lips writhing about them, as in the very moment of their first terrible development. Then came the full fury of my monomania, and I struggled in vain against its strange and irresistible influence. In the multiplied objects of the external world I had no thoughts but for the teeth. For these I longed with a phrenzied desire. All other matters and all different interests became absorbed in their single contemplation. They—they alone were present to the mental eye, and they, in their sole individuality, became the essence of my mental life. I held them in every light. I turned them in every attitude. I surveyed their characteristics. I dwelt upon their peculiarities. I pondered upon their conformation. I mused upon the alteration in their nature. I shuddered as I assigned to them in imagination a sensitive and sentient power, and even when unassisted by the lips, a capability of moral expression. Of Mademoiselle Salle it has been well said, “Que tous ses pas etaient des sentiments,” and of Berenice I more seriously believed que toutes ses dents etaient des idees. Des idees!—ah here was the idiotic thought that destroyed me! Des idees!—ah therefore it was that I coveted them so madly! I felt that their possession could alone ever restore me to peace, in giving me back to reason.

And the evening closed in upon me thus—and then the darkness came, and tarried, and went—and the day again dawned—and the mists of a second night were now gathering around—and still I sat motionless in that solitary room—and still I sat buried in meditation—and still the phantasma of the teeth maintained its terrible ascendancy, as, with the most vivid hideous distinctness, it floated about amid the changing lights and shadows of the chamber. At length there broke in upon my dreams a cry as of horror and dismay; and thereunto, after a pause, succeeded the sound of troubled voices, intermingled with many low moanings of sorrow or of pain. I arose from my seat, and throwing open one of the doors of the library, saw standing out in the ante-chamber a servant maiden, all in tears, who told me that Berenice was—no more! She had been seized with epilepsy in the early morning, and now, at the closing in of the night, the grave was ready for its tenant, and all the preparations for the burial were completed.

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I found myself sitting in the library, and again sitting there alone. It seemed that I had newly awakened from a confused and exciting dream. I knew that it was now midnight, and I was well aware, that since the setting of the sun, Berenice had been interred. But of that dreary period which intervened I had no positive, at least no definite comprehension. Yet its memory was replete with horror—horror more horrible from being vague, and terror more terrible from ambiguity. It was a fearful page in the record my existence, written all over with dim, and hideous, and unintelligible recollections. I strived to decypher them, but in vain; while ever and anon, like the spirit of a departed sound, the shrill and piercing shriek of a female voice seemed to be ringing in my ears. I had done a deed—what was it? I asked myself the question aloud, and the whispering echoes of the chamber answered me,—“what was it?”

On the table beside me burned a lamp, and near it lay a little box. It was of no remarkable character, and I had seen it frequently before, for it was the property of the family physician; but how came it there, upon my table, and why did I shudder in regarding it? These things were in no manner to be accounted for, and my eyes at length dropped to the open pages of a book, and to a sentence underscored therein. The words were the singular but simple ones of the poet Ebn Zaiat:—“Dicebant mihi sodales si sepulchrum amicae visitarem, curas meas aliquantulum fore levatas.” Why then, as I perused them, did the hairs of my head erect themselves on end, and the blood of my body become congealed within my veins?

There came a light tap at the library door—and, pale as the tenant of a tomb, a menial entered upon tiptoe. His looks were wild with terror, and he spoke to me in a voice tremulous, husky, and very low. What said he?—some broken sentences I heard. He told of a wild cry disturbing the silence of the night—of the gathering together of the household—of a search in the direction of the sound; and then his tones grew thrillingly distinct as he whispered me of a violated grave—of a disfigured body enshrouded, yet still breathing—still palpitating—still alive!

He pointed to garments;—they were muddy and clotted with gore. I spoke not, and he took me gently by the hand: it was indented with the impress of human nails. He directed my attention to some object against the wall. I looked at it for some minutes: it was a spade. With a shriek I bounded to the table, and grasped the box that lay upon it. But I could not force it open; and in my tremor, it slipped from my hands, and fell heavily, and burst into pieces; and from it, with a rattling sound, there rolled out some instruments of dental surgery, intermingled with thirty-two small, white and ivory-looking substances that were scattered to and fro about the floor.

Source: The Gutenberg project

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The Mysterious Meaning of the Ballad: Maiden in the Moor Lay

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One of the more haunting and mysterious ballads of the middle ages is the ballad of the Maiden in the Moor Lay.

The poem of the moor lady has only been preserved in one manuscript found in the Bodleian library in Oxford and tells the strange tale of something that can remind of a haunting of a maiden. The ballad was once set to a melody that are now forever lost along with the name of the author. Probably we will never know what the song is really about and who this lady can be. It is probably from the fourteenth century and this is the lyrics:

Old English

Maiden in the mor lay–
    in the mor lay–
Seuenyst fulle, seuenist fulle.
Maiden in the mor lay–
    in the mor lay–
Seuenistes fulle ant a day.

Welle was hire mete.
wat was hire mete?

The primerole ant the–
      the primerole ant the–
Welle was hire mete.
Wat was hire mete?
    The primerole ant the violet.

Welle was hire dring.
wat was hire dring?
    The chelde water of the–
    the chelde water of the–
Welle was hire dring.
Wat was hire dring?
    The chelde water of the welle-spring.

Welle was hire bour.
wat was hire bour?
    The rede rose an the–
    The rede rose an the–
Welle was hire bour.
wat was hire bour?
  The rede rose an the lilie flour.

English Translation

Maiden in the moor lay,
    In the moor lay–
Seven nights full, seven nights full.
Maiden in the moor lay-

In the moor lay–
Seven nights full and a day.

Good was her meat.
What was her meat?
    The primrose and the–
    The primrose and the–
Good was her meat.
What was her meat?
    The primrose and the violet.

Good was her drink.
What was her drink?
    The chilled water of the–
    The chilled water of the–
Good was her drink.

What was her drink?
    The chilled water of the well spring.

Good was her bower.
What was her bower?
    The red rose and the–
    The red rose and the-
Good was her bower.
What was her bower?
    The red rose and the lily flower.

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Who was the maiden, or rather what was she? Christians claim her as Virgin Mary to make it more holy, folklore claim her as something older. Perhaps a germanic water sprite, a fairy. Some interpret the maiden as an ordinary girl, perhaps even a ghost? That is probably lost to history and both the origin of the song as well as the original melody is something we can only guess.

Musical version of Maiden in the Moor Lay

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How the TV-series Penny Dreadful is Influenced by Old Literature

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In honor of the new spin-off series, Penny Dreadful: City of Angels (2020), we took a nostalgic look back to the awesome Showtime series that started it all. RIP Original series, you were cancelled all too soon.


Penny Dreadful is a British-American horror drama television series created for Showtime and Sky by John Logan. It ran for three seasons from 2014-2016.

Iconic Vanessa Ives (Eva Green).
An original character and
also some of the most well crafted ones.

Penny Dreadful is an old term used during the nineteenth century to refer to cheap popular serial literature. Sort of like pulp fiction. It was also called penny blood, penny awful, or penny horrible. It means a story published in weekly parts, with the cost of one (old) penny. The main plot of these stories were typically sensational, focusing on the adventures of detectives, criminals, or supernatural entities.

This is exactly what Penny Dreadful was, and what it payed homage to. So we found some old stuff the series borrowed or was inspired by. And there is A LOT. So get your cigarette on a stick and let’s go on some vampiric monster hunt with out pals.

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Frankenstein

Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus is a novel written by English author Mary Shelley (1797–1851) that tells the story of Victor Frankenstein, a young scientist who creates a hideous sapient creature in an unorthodox scientific experiment. 

Harry Treadaway played Victor Frankenstein, an arrogant, reclusive young doctor whose ambition and research involve transcending the barrier between life and death. In this show, Dr. Victor Frankenstein likes to quote the romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley. Shelley’s second wife was Mary Shelley.

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Dorian Gray

The Picture of Dorian Gray is a Gothic and philosophical novel by Oscar Wilde, first published complete in the July 1890 issue of Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine. Fearing the story was indecent, the magazine’s editor deleted roughly five hundred words before publication without Wilde’s knowledge. It is Wilde’s only novel.

In the series he was played by Reeve Carney. A charismatic man who is ageless and immortal. And this Dorian Gray had a great, but utterly confusing story line. Where his purpose in the show was to throw great balls and parties and have sex with absolutely every character.

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Frankenstein’s bride

In Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus, Victor Frankenstein is tempted by his monster’s proposal to create a female creature so that the monster can have a wife: “Shall each man,” cried he, “find a wife for his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone?”

In Penny Dreadful, the bride of Frankenstein is Brona Croft (portrayed by Billie Piper), an Irish immigrant with a dark past who dies of tuberculosis at the end of Season 1. In season 2, she is brought back to life with no memory after Frankenstein’s monster demands a bride and given the new name “Lily Frankenstein” by Victor. That last scene of her speech will haunt television forever.

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The creature

Often called John Clare. He was a labour poet in the mid 1800’s England. But if it is a reference to the creature is unclear. What is clear though is that the creature often is called Caliban as well, a character from Shakespear’s The tempes. Half human, half monster. In some traditions he is depicted as a wild man, or a deformed man, or a beast man, or sometimes a mix of fish and man, a dwarf or even a tortoise. Another connection from the creature to penny dreadful is Dorian Gray. In the preface of The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde muses: “The nineteenth century dislike of Realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass. The nineteenth century dislike of Romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass.”

In the series he was played with Rory Kinnear, and had long storylines without many of the characters, alone.

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Dracula

Dracula is an 1897 Gothic horror novel by Irish author Bram Stoker. Dracula was a big influence from the start. From Mina being taken by him, the chase after Dracula and several character that appears in the series. Van Helsing included. But the series managed to make a twist of it all, and the influence of Dracula is almost as if just a eerily familiar setting and feeling of the series. He did however show up in series three in the flesh. Christian Camargo as Dracula, the brother of Lucifer who fell to Earth to feed on the blood of the living as the first vampire. In London, he takes the guise of kindly zoologist Alexander Sweet to captivate Vanessa.

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John Seward

In season 3 of TV series Penny Dreadful, Patti LuPone portrays Dr. Florence Seward, a female version of the character. It is originally a character from Dracula, a doctor in the insane asylum, He calls in his mentor, Abraham Van Helsing, to help him with her illness, and he helps Seward to realize that Lucy has been bitten by a vampire and is doomed to become one herself. He was in love with her and proposed to her, but was rejected. After she is officially destroyed and her soul can go to heaven, Seward is determined to destroy Dracula.

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Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde is a gothic novella by Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson, first published in 1886. It is about a London legal practitioner named Gabriel John Utterson who investigates strange occurrences between his old friend, Dr Henry Jekyll, and the evil Edward Hyde.

Dr. Jekyll (Shazad Latif) as a former classmate of Dr. Frankenstein’s.

Varney the vampire

Abraham Van Helsing gives a copy of Varney the Vampire to Victor Frankenstein, explaining that the story is more truth than fiction and that the mysterious creature the series’ characters are pursuing is a vampire.

Justine

Justine, or The Misfortunes of Virtue is a 1791 novel by Donatien Alphonse François de Sade, better known as the Marquis de Sade. Justine is set just before the French Revolution in France and tells the story of a young girl who goes under the name of Thérèse. Her story is recounted to Madame de Lorsagne while defending herself for her crimes, en route to punishment and death.

In Penny Dreadful she is the a homeless, brutalized young prostitute who becomes an acolyte to Lily played by Jessica Barden. In an interview with John Logan from the show, he also said the relationship between Justine and Lily was inspired by th Novella Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan LeFanu

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Wolfman

Larry Talbot was the main character in the movie series the Wolfman from 1941 and onward. There are sequels, reboots and several other medias tied into this franchise. He has his own interaction with all the Penny Dreadful characters from Dracula, Frankenstein and so on in his own franchise as well.

In the TV series Penny Dreadful, Ethan Chandler’s real name is revealed to be Ethan Lawrence Talbot, and he suffers from the curse of lycanthropy. This version of the character is played by Josh Hartnett.

Hecate

Hecate Poole is the witch played by Sarah Greene and is Evelyn Pool’s eldest daughter. She is the witch who pursues Ethan Chandler in seasons two and three. She shares her name with the ancient Greek goddess of witchcraft and the moon. Like Ethan’s relationship with the moon and her witchcraft ability as a Nightcomer witch.

The unquiet grave

“The Unquiet Grave” is an English folk song in which a young man mourns his dead love too hard and prevents her from obtaining peace. It is thought to date from 1400. It is heard in the mansion of the Nightcomer witches.

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Songs About Ghosts and Hauntings

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There are countless, countless, COUNTLESS ballads, songs, poems and plays about ghosts and hauntings throughout history. Here are a collection of some songs about ghosts that have a connection or is about an actual ghost legend or a haunting.

Murder of Maria Marten (1971)
by Shirley Collins and the Albion Country Band

This modern folk ballad is actually inspired by the real Red Barn Murder. Maria Marten supposed eloped with her lover, William Corder in 1827, in Polstead, county Suffolk, England. He wrote back to her family, claiming they were fine. But then, Maria started appearing to her stepmother in her dreams. The ghost of Maria told she was dead and were they would find her.

They found her body in the barn and Corder was found and executed. Corder’s skeleton was reassembled, exhibited, and used as a teaching aid in the West Suffolk Hospital. The skeleton was put on display in the Hunterian Museum in the Royal College of Surgeons of England, where it hung beside that of Jonathan Wild until 2004. The murder inspired plays, songs and movies, one of them sung by Shirley Collins, with her voice echoing the ye’ old England ballads.

Read more about Maria Marten and The Red Barn Murder:

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Jacob’s dream
by Allison Krauss

Few voices are as haunting than Alison Krauss. And the song, Jacob’s dream, even more so because of its backstory of The Lost Children of the Alleghenies. It’s a well known folk story from the Appalachia region of the United States. George and Joseph Cox, then aged seven and five , disappeared from their home in Pavia on April 24, 1856.

The legend tells that the night after the disappearance a local farmer, Jacob Dibert dreamt he walked a path through the woods past a dead deer, a child’s shoe and a fallen birch tree and eventually to a copse of birch trees in a small ravine. Here he found the bodies of the Cox boys. The dream recurred on the two following nights. He and his brother in law decided to make a search, culminating in the discovery of the bodies just as the dream had described – under birch trees in a small ravine reached along a track with a dead deer, a child’s shoe and a fallen birch.

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The Ride (1983)
by David Allan Coe

The writer, Gary Gentry swears the ghost of Hank Williams appeared to him in his darkened house one night. Gentry says he tried to summon Williams for a little inspiration. And he supposedly came. The ballad tells the story of a hitchhiker’s meeting with the ghost of Hank Williams, Sr. in a ride from to Nashville, Tennessee. The mysterious driver, “dressed like 1950, half drunk and hollow-eyed” and driving an “antique Cadillac” (referring to the baby blue 1952 Cadillac convertible that Williams died in), questions the narrator whether he has the musical talent and dedication to become a star in the country music industry.

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Elizabeth (2010)
by Ghost

The Swedish occult rock band could have had many listings on this particular list of songs about ghosts. Especially since they have dedicated their carrier to warn about the coming of the devil and other satanical topics. The song “Elizabeth” is about Elizabeth Báthory, not exactly a ghost, but who is remembered as one of the deadliest women and well… a vampire. In 2010, the band produced a three-track demo and the vinyl-only single “Elizabeth”, before releasing their first studio album, Opus Eponymous, on October 18, 2010.

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Angels (1997)
by Robbie Williams

Yes, that is correct, a songs about ghosts. The romantic breakout hit of former Take That singer and solo singer, Angels, was actually inspired by paranormal occurrences that Robbie Williams experienced himself as young. “There hasn’t been a moment of my life when I haven’t been aware of the presence of something unseen,” he said. “The very first song I wrote was Angels and it’s about actual angels.”

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Here is our list of songs about ghosts and hauntings. Do you know of anyone else? Feel free to notify us about it.

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The Plague of the Past (?)

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In these strange and scary pandemic times, its nice to live in a world of modern health care, science and the wide spread information about the internet. But pandemics and epidemics have always been a part of the human experience through history, and it’s really just in the last couple of centuries, we’ve really been able to combat the spread of viruses. So in that regard, we took a look at past pandemics and epidemics and how they affected the society and how they at that time, tried to combat it.

The plague of Justinian (541-542 AD)

St Sebastian pleading for the life of a gravedigger afflicted with plague during the 7th-century Plague of Justinian.
(Josse Lieferinxe, c. 1497–1499)

This plague is the first well documented occurrence of a wide spread pandemic. And according to some historians, the most deadliest. In 2013 it was confirmed that the bacteria was the Yersinia pestis, the same that caused the Black death.

“During these times, there was a pestilence, by which the whole human race came near to being annihilated” – Procopius

The name comes from the Emperor Justinian of the Byzantian empire, a peasant son that had been chosen as emperor Justin, his uncle, to rule in these times. Justinian and members of his court, physically unaffected by the previous 535–536 famine, were afflicted, with Justinian himself contracting and surviving the pestilence. He was said to have been a stern and vicious ruler in the plague times, not budging on collecting the taxes from his starving and sickly farmers.

Mosaic of Justinianus I – Basilica San Vitale (Ravenna)
Photo by: Petar Milošević 2015

Merchant ships from Egypt came into the city of Constantinople the seat of the Roman Empire, carrying infected rats in the grain ships. We have a lot of first hands accounts of the Byzantine historians, like Procopius. He recorded that at its peak, the plague killed 10 000 people in the city of Constantinople, daily. There was no room to bury the dead, the bodies had to be stacked on top of each other. In the streets, in the houses, unburied, left unattended, feared. No one was left to bury them. There was no room for funeral rites and the once so great city reeked of death.

Proocopicus, hated the Emperor Justinius, and blamed him in his “Secret History”, claiming the emperor was a demon that created the plague, or at leas, was a punishment for his malice. He told of supernatural beings in human disguise that spread the disease after appearing to people. He claimed other dies after seeing visions in dreams, or heard voices, telling them that they would be getting the plague.

1975. This patient presented with symptoms of plague that included gangrene of the right hand causing necrosis of the fingers. Author=CDC/Dr. Jack Poland

In the end, the tombs were filled, so the soldiers built trenches for the bodies to be thrown in. That too failed, as it in the end, was no where left to dig. In the end the people carried the bodies of the dead down to the sea and threw them in to rid themselves of the stench of death and piling of bodies.

In the VIth century the inhabitants of Philippi embarked on the construction of an imposing basilica on the site of the town’s palaestra; the size of the planned building clearly exceeded the needs of the town, thus indicating that Philippi attracted many pilgrims. In 547 the so-called Justinian plague devastated the countries of the Mediterranean basin and in the early VIIth century an earthquake struck the region of Philippi; these two catastrophic events could have halted the completion of the basilica, standing as a proof and evidence on how plagues can alter the history as intended.
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The Black Death (1347-1351)

Physician attire for protection from the Bubonic plague or Black death from 1656. A so called plague doctor. The purpose of the mask was to keep away bad smells, known as miasma, which were thought to be the principal cause of the disease, before it was disproved by germ theory.

It swept cross Europe in medieval times, laying towns, countries, cultures and riches in ruins. It did not start in Europe, but it remained as an imprint on it, to this today, some would even claim, a fear for it, that still rings today. And in the western world, every plague since then, has been compared to the infamous Black Death. So many myths, so many legends spun around it, who was to blame, were did it come from. It left plague pits, its own cemeteries and around 25 million dead in Europe alone.

People would die suddenly. They would be in the market, at work, at home, and the, suddenly fall dead of the illness. Doctors refused to attend the patients and priests declined administering last rites. Even worse, healthy people from families would often leave their infected loved ones to die and escaped to other places.

Contemporary sources say that the plague originated in Mongolia. It traveled all the way before it hit Europe in full force in 1347/48 along the coast. Giovanni Boccaccio, most known for his book, Decameron, was a first hand witness to the plague. In his book, he describes the harsh reality of it:

“The pestilence was so powerful that it was communicated to the healthy by contacting the sick, the way a fire close to dry or oily things will set them aflame.”

They established their camps in fields near towns and held their rituals twice a day. The ritual began with the reading of a letter, claimed to have been delivered by an angel and justifying the Flagellants’ activities. Next, the followers would fall to their knees and scourge themselves, gesturing with their free hands to indicate their sin and striking themselves rhythmically to songs, known as Geisslerlieder, until blood flowed. Sometimes the blood was soaked up in rags and treated as a holy relic. Painting by Pieter van Laer (1599–after 1641 ) from ca. 1635.

In Milan, if a person was found to be infected, they would close them inside the house, the house would be walled up, windows and doors filled with bricks, with all the people still inside.

Several people were blamed of the disease. Jews were burned throughout Germany or banished. In Esslingen, the Jews gathered in their synagogue and set it on fire. In Strasbourg the town counsel tried to protect them, but they were burned in their own cemetery.

The pestilence paved way to a scary brotherhood, The Flagellants, the Brethren of the Cross. Devout Christians looked at the plague as a punishment from God fro their sins. In Germany, this movement spread like the plague itself. They wore dark clothes with red crosses, hiding their face and walked in a line behind their leader. They would parade in a circle before throwing themselves on the ground, the leader beating them all for their sins. Then they would get up before beating themselves with a scourge, a stick with three tails with knots. They would whip their backs bloody. This they hoped, would appease God. Many died from these marches that raged in Germany and France.

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Theodor Kittelsen – Pesta i trappen, 1896 (Pesta on the Stairs).

The plague reached far, even to outskirts countries like Iceland and Greenland, The plague managed to hit Norway in 1349 when a wool-carrying ship from England halted at Bergen port. Within days, the entire ship crew were dead and then the rampage started in rest of Norway. Norwegian called the plague “pest”. Folklore thought that the plague was an old woman, “Pesta” and that she came to town with either a rake or a broom. If she used her broom, everyone would die. If she used the rake, some would live. Today, people are named after the deserted and dead farms. Ødegård (desolate farm), a common surname among Norwegians to this date.

This wasn’t the last Europe saw of the plague however. It came and went in waves during the next centuries.

The Third Plague (1855 to the 1950s)

This plague started in Yunnan, China, and eventually led to the discovery of a cure for it. It was then the connection to rats were discovered and a more planned combat against the plague could go forth.

Picture of Manchurian Plague victims in 1910 -1911 that has been historically mislabeled as “Body disposal at Unit 731” A much higher resolution photo, with Russian text stating that these were “Dead plague bodies held in storage awaiting scientific research” can be seen here.

Shi Tao-nan wrote a poem about the plague called: Death of Rats.

Dead rats in the east,
Dead rats in the west!

As if they were tigers,
Indeed are the people scared.

Few days following the death of the rats,
Men pass away like falling walls!..

The coming of the devil of the plague
Suddendly makes the lamp dim,

Then it is blown out,
Leaving man ghost and corpse in the dark room

The writer of the poem died of the plague only days after it was written.

The plague continued to rage, from Hong Kong it spread with ships to the world. To US, Latin America, India and South Africa. India was particularly hit by the plague, and over the next thiry years, over twelve million people died of it in India alone. It died out in the 1950s. In 1894 the Hong Kong doctore, Alexandre Yersin found evidence of the Yersinia Pestis as in the Justinian plague and Black Death.

Today, fewer than 200 people die of the plague worldwide each year, mainly due to lack of treatment. Plague is considered to be endemic in 26 countries around the world, with most cases found in remote areas of Africa. The three most endemic countries are Madagascar, the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Peru. The latest victim to it being a couple in Mongolia after eating the raw kidney of a rodent. Commonly considered a folk remedy for good health.

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Sources

Orent, Wendy. Plague: the Mysterious Past and Terrifying Future of the Worlds Most Dangerous Disease. Place of publication not identified: Free Press, 2012.

https://www.history.com/news/6-devastating-plagues

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Third_plague_pandemic

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timeline_of_plague

Stories

The Vanishing Hitchhiker

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A Moonmausoleum original writings based on the Urban Legend – The Vanishing Hitchhiker

I was driving back home after a work seminar out of town. It was a long stretch, and I thought I would just drive through the night to get back. It was a narrow road, hardly any lights along the road. It was still a couple of hours until I would reach home, and I was listening to the weird night radio at the local radio station. It was mostly static.

Suddenly, I almost had to weer off the road. Right there, right by the side of the road, a girl was standing, her hands out, hitchhiking. I didn’t see her before my headlights shone right at her, making her appear out of nowhere.

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I floored the breaks. When the car stopped, my pulse was going off the charts, my breathing uneven, Shaken, but unharmed, I looked back to the girl. She was still standing there, unharmed as well. I exhaled, happy I hadn’t run her over. She was standing so still, just looking at me, her thumb, still held high in the air, waiting on a lift. I opened the door and stepped out.

“H-hello? Excuse me, but do you need a lift?”

Photo by Riccardo Mion on Unsplash

She turned her head and meet my eyes. She was wearing a white summer dress in the chilly night. Only a rugged denim jacket, filled with patches of bands and slogans shielded her from the unforgiving autumn wind.

“Are you ok?” I asked, now beginning to fear I had scared her with the car. She was still standing at the side of the road, not moving.

“Can you give me a ride?” she asked then, her voice was just a weak shiver. I looked around. There was nothing here. I had hours left before I reached home and was going to work tomorrow. But I couldn’t leave her here. Not when I also almost ran her over.

“S-sure. Jump in. Where to?”

She started to move, she came towards me, not making a sound as she walked over the road. She got in the backseat. I thought that was a bit weird, but didn’t say anything. Perhaps she felt safer at a distance. I got back behind the wheel and started the car.

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“Where do you live?” I asked. She didn’t answer at once. She was looking out the window, the moon hitting only half her face.

“Take me home,” she said, just a breathing. I wondered if I should call the police then. Clearly, something had happened. I had chills, and looked around. There was nothing coming out from the surrounding trees but the wind’s whisper.

“Where is home?” I asked, just driving, looking in the mirror, trying to figure out what to do. She sighed.

Photo by Michael Mouritz on Unsplash

“The blue house. The blue house at the right turn after the old bridge,” she said.

I had no idea where we were, but just continued forward, hoping to reach the bridge soon. I looked back again. She was beautiful, pretty in this sad way. Her face was pale though, and she looked out the window, staring at something in the distance.

“Did something happen? Tonight I mean?”

She turned her head and met my eyes in the reflections in the mirror. She nodded.

“Yes,” she said.

“Do you need to call someone?”

“Just drive me home.”

We continued in silence a couple of minutes. Every other time I checked in the mirror, she was staring out the window in a daze, other times, she was staring right back at me, her gaze direct.

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After driving for a while we reached a bridge.

“Hey, is this it? Is this the bridge?” I asked and turned. It was like she woke from a slumber, she sat up and got sight of the bridge.

“Yes, that is it, that is where it happened,” she said, her voice low, getting closer to me as she leaned forward to the drivers seat to get a better look. I could sense a smell, something sweet, something familiar. We were approaching the bridge.

“Where what happened?” I asked, the smell getting stronger, that familiar smell. That sweet smell. The smell of rot and decay.

“This is were I died,” she said, and I jumped. Her mouth right next to my ear, her low voice loud because of it. Again, I floored the breaks. The wheels spun, leaving a black mark on the road right by the bridge.

When I got control of the car again, I turned around. But she was gone. Only her denim jacket was left. I got out of the car, but saw nothing of her. The forest around was dark, the water under the bridge darker. The night grew colder. I got in my car and hurdled out of there, not stopping before I reached home.

Days went by, by I couldn’t get that lonely, pretty girl out of my head. I drove back and reached the bridge. In daylight I was able to find the turn she talked about and made it. When I saw the blue house, I sighed with relief. I wasn’t going crazy, she had really been there.

The garden was overgrown, the blue paint weathered and needed another coat. I rang the bell and waited with the denim jacket in hand, hoping to return it to the strange girl I had met.

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But it was an old woman that opened. She peered out at me, looking at me suspicious.

“Yes?”

“Ah, yeah, hallo, so… I met a girl a couple of nights ago, she said she lived here.”

“No girl lives here, it’s only me,” the old lady said. I was left standing there, confused and lost. The woman was about to close the door again when she stopped dead in her tracks. She opened her mouth, her eyes shocked.

“Why do you have that?” the lady asked, looking straight at the jacket I was holding in my hand.

“Oh this? It’s the girl’s, she forgot it in my car when I gave her a lift.”

The woman before me turned white. She had to support herself to stand upright. The door creaked and opened as she leaned on it. And when it did, I saw the picture. A faded picture of the pretty girl, smiling.

In a whisper the old lady said:

“No, no, that is my daughter’s. She died in a car accident on the old bridge over ten years ago.

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Cryptozoology

The Legend of the Mothman

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A haunted town, or just a townie with the biggest hoax of all time? The legend of the Mothman reached a craze in the small town of Point Pleasant in West Virginia in the 60’s. It has everything from a classic pulp science fiction movie from that time. UFO’s, monsters in the sky, an abandoned chemical plant from the war and a Black 57′ Chevy. This is the story of the Mothman that terrorized the people of the small town. And… today?

First Sightings

It was a November, five grave diggers dug a grave in a cemetery in West Virginia. One of them was Kenneth Duncan, and he was digging the grave for his father-in-law. It was 12th of November, 1966, and he was about to be the first ’official’ witness to the Mothman.

The first sightings of the Mothman at this time, was reported first in hindsight after the big reports came in.

Suddenly he saw something right above the trees. It was no bird. It looked more like a human being. But at the same time, it was not. Thus creature had wings.

— It was gliding through the trees and was in sight for about a minute, Duncan said.

The four other men together with Duncan did not see the creature before it flew away, and the men didn’t talk about this strange encounter with others than their close friends. Perhaps it would be forgotten, hadn’t other people started reporting seeing the exact same thing.

The Legend Was Born

This November sighting was not to be the last, however. Perhaps the most reported about and famous sighting was the Scarberry and Mallette sighting on November 15th in 1966 in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. This is the first sighting to be reported to the media and got any public attention.

Two couples, Linda and Roger Scarberry and Steve and Mary Mallette, were riding around north of the city. In a place used as a so called ‘lovers lane’, Joyriding around they reached the abandoned North Power Plant. It is known as the TNT area, or the TNT plant. There they saw the eyes of creature, reflected from the headlights of their Black 1957 Chevy.

The ’57 Chevy has become somewhat of a holy grail for the Mothman fans. It was reportedly scratched from the creature, but were it is now, remains a mystery.

— There was no glowing about it until the lights hit it, Linda said in her handwritten account of the incident.

They were glowing red after this, belonging to a gray figure, 6 or 7 feet man-like with wings. They said the creature wobbled, like it couldn’t keep its balance.

Terrified at the sighting, they drove off down Route 62, Linda yelling at Roger to speed up. As they went around a curve, they saw the creature on a hill by a large billboard. Spreading its wings it started to fly, flying back and forth over the car.

— We didn’t know what it was. I don’t think we’ve ever been so scared, Linda said.

Going a 100 miles an hour, they tried to speed away from the creature, but the Mothman still managed to keep up. They couldn’t get away, hearing the wings hitting the top of the car. They reported to have been scratch marks on the Chevy after the incident.

—It squeaked like a big mouse, Mary Mallette said.

It was first when they reached the outskirts of Point pleasant they managed to get away from the creature as it disappeared, veering off into a nearby field.

The mothman was said to be like a man with wings and glowing red eyes.
credit: Moth Man FreePNGImg.com

They stopped at the local Dairyland and tried to figure out what to do about it all. Linda wanted to go to the police to report it, but both Roger and Steve didn’t want to be laughed at. They wanted to go back, to see if the thing was still there. But the group was too scared and turned back to Point Pleasant. When they did, they noticed a dead dog along the road were the creature jumped out, going across the roof of the car before it disappeared in the field again. It was gone when they went back later. They drove back to town and stopped at Tiny’s Diner. There they contacted the police.

—If I had seen it while by myself, I wouldn’t have said anything, but there were four of us who saw it, Roger later told the local papers.

Deputy Millard Halstead was the one that met them. The couples told about a large winged creature with glowing red eyes. Halstead didn’t believe them at first. He knew they weren’t trouble makers, and saw they were terrified, so he went to investigate. The couples went with the deputy to the area. Halstead heard strange static disturbances from the radio, but found no trace of the creature. The couples sat in the car and said they saw shadows circling around nearby and dust kick up from the coal yard nearby. The Mallette was too scared to go home, and they stayed awake, all night in Scarberry’s trailer, lights on, terrified.

News clip of the Scarberry and Mallette couples shortly after the incident in 1966.
from the archives of the Athens Messenger.

The next day the couples went back to the area in the daylight. They found tracks looking like “two horseshoes put together”. Steve reported seeing something fly up when a door kicked open. They left the place before they could see what is was. The same day, the Sheriff, George Johnson held a press conference. The local press attended and named the creature Mothman. Batman had just gotten a television series at that time, so they named him after the character. After this more and more sightings was reported, including Duncan’s at the cemetary. It sparked national, even internationally attention in the media. Steve said to the local paper.

— We understand people are lauging at us. But we wouldn’t make up all this to make us look like fools.

Watch the clip when History Channel’s show, TheUnXplained made a story on the mothman, and interviewing Linda, all these years after.
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After the Scarberry and Mallette Sighting

After this particular sighting, several of the previous ones came forward.

People flocked to the wildlife area where the incident took place and the volunteer fire department had to direct the traffic. Two of those also came forward with tales of seeing a large bird with red eyes, the Gettysburg Times could report.

Moth Man Transparent Image FreePNGImg.com

One famous anecdote from this time, must be Newell Partridge and his missing dog. He was a contractor, living 100 miles north, and claimed the Mothman had something to do with the disappearance of his German shepherd dog, Bandit. He sighted “a thing” in the meadow near his home only 90 minutes before the sighting of the couples in Point Pleasant. He took a flashlight, and directed it towards the shadows. Glowing red eyes looked back, and Bandit started barking and ran after the creature. The dog never returned and the next morning, there was no trace of it.

At the time of the Mothman sightings, residents also reported chilling incidents of unexplained paranormal activity, vanishing pets. Remember that dog laying dead in the road? Also there were reports of television interference.

Rumors of Men in Black, UFO’s, weird dreams and shadows in the corner of their eyes. That is just some of the reported responses around this time in Point Pleasant and the areas surrounding it. Under, is just some of the newspaper clippings from around that time.

And it the legend spun, grew, and at last, culminated in a fatal tragedy of the people in Point Pleasant.

The collapse of the Silver Bridge

On 15th of December, 1967, the Silver Bridge collapsed. It connected Point Pleasant to Ohio and was an eyebar-chain suspension bridge built in 1928. When it collapsed under the weight of rush-hour traffic, it resulted it the death of 46 people. Two of the victims were never found.

Analysis showed the bridge carried more weight than it had been designed for and had been poorly maintained. The collapse of the bridge made so several other old bridges were maintained and inspected. Historian Henry Petroski called it a “cautionary tale for engineers of every kind.”

The Silver Bridge when it was first built in 1928.
photo credit: United States Department of Transportation employee

Several reports, including John Keel in his book: The Mothman Prophecies linked the Mothman to the horrible disaster. As it was at the height of the Mothman sightings.

The bridge were full of cars, coming back from work or out Christmas shopping, and they suddenly felt the bridge shake. Then came a moaning of metal before the screeching of the collapse. Then the bridge went down into the water.

Many citizens spooked by the torrent of eerie occurrences blamed the Mothman for this unexpected disaster. It was only thirteen months since the first Mothman sighting by Duncan.

The tragedy cost the life of 46 people and injured nine. Two were never found.

The strange thing about the connection is that several reports claimed they had strange dreams and nightmares about drowning and an oncoming disaster. This was also reported by Mary Hyre. She was a reporter and wrote the column Where the Water Mingles, in the Athens Messenger. She often reported on the weird occurrences in Point Pleasant, and often about the Mothman. She became therefore a good friend of John Keel. There were also tales about Men in Black coming down to her office to try to shut her down. She told Keel On November 19th 1967, a whole month before the disaster:

— I had a terrible nightmare. There were a lot of people drowning in the river and Christmas packages were floating everywhere in the water. Its like something awful is going to happen.

The Silver Brigde collapse, was one of the biggest and worst bridge-disasters in the States at that time.
From the Point Pleasant Register’s paper after the tragedy.

Some saw the Mothman as a premonition of the oncoming disaster, some saw it as the cause of it. In any case, this spurred the legend that the Mothman was an Omen of Doom.

This has not been the last time horrible disasters have been connected to sightings of strange creatures. Both before 9/11 and before the Russian apartment bombings, several claimed to have seen huge bird-like creatures with legs near the surrounding area of where the tragedy took place.

Aftermath

So what was it all? Was it just a hoax? Was it an actual thing? Something in between?

Cryptozoologist, Mark A. Hall said it could be an undiscovered species of a giant owl, dubbing it Bighoot, as evidence or reports of it has existed in the Point Pleasant area, long before and after the legend of Mothman was born. Is that it? Was it an enormous owl or other bird that terrified the inhabitants?

The statue of Mothman sculpted by Bob Roach. It’s located in Point Pleasant, West Virginia.
photo by: Jason W (2009): Source

There has also been theories about it being a big Crane, as the description could be fitted to the big Sandhill Crane as it has a wing span for around seven feet and can stand as tall as a man. That was what Dr. Robert L. Smith, professor in wildlife biology at WVU, said at that time.

Another theory is around the abandoned TNT area — the local left over bunkers that were used for storing toxic chemicals, during the Great War. It was used as an ammunition manufacturing facility that employed a few thousand people at its peak. What really happened in there? What exactly was stored in there? Could it be that it interfered with the neighboring wildlife preserve, creating something… new?

In May of 2010, one of the igloos at TNT, containing 20,000 pounds of unstable materials suddenly exploded. Fortunately no one was injured but the place had to be shut down and cleaned out before opening again. Was it enough? Is the danger gone now?

But is this the only occurrences of the moth man? For the particular interested, the Mothman fandom wiki has made a super interesting timeline of supposed Mothman sightings, both before the 60’s and after. Check it out here.

Today the Mothman is something of a legend, still living in Point Pleasant as a memory the people keep alive. It has its own museum dedicated to it with a 24 hour web cam around the area, a diner called The Mothman Diner, and has been run for almost fifty years now. It has its own statue in the town, even its own festival every September dedicated to one and only.

The legend has spun several books, movies, art, toys and the occasional reported sighting:

Read Also

5 Supernatural Horror Movies Based on True Events

What makes a true story a good story? This is five of the supernatural horror movies claiming to be true events. Is it? How much creative liberty can movie makers do before it is merely a work of fiction?

Last big one on camera was in 2016. A man was driving down the road and suddenly saw something jumping from the nearby trees. The man had just moved to Point Pleasant and claimed he didn’t know anything about the legend and that he didn’t edit the photos he took of the thing in the sky at all. Check it out here.

Let us just hope that the Mothman, in fact, is not an Omen of Doom then, at that if it is, the sightings will stop entirely for the sake of the people of Point Pleasant.

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Other sources:

Source: Hall, Mark A. 1998. Bighoot – the giant owl. Wonders 5, no. 3 (September): 67-79.

https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/tnt-area

https://themothman.fandom.com/wiki/TheMothman_Wiki

The Mystery Chronicles: More Real-Life X-Files by Joe Nickell, University Press of Kentucky. https://books.google.no/books?id=sComGoDFJZ4C&pg=PA93&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q&f=false

Uncategorized

5 Supernatural Horror Movies Based on True Events

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What makes a true story a good story? This is five of the supernatural horror movies claiming to be true events. Is it? How much creative liberty can movie makers do before it is merely a work of fiction?

The Rite (2011)

Cover of the book The Making of a Modern Exorcist by Matt Baglio.

The actual story: This movie is based on a Book from 2009, The Making of a Modern Exorcist by Matt Baglio. Baglio attended a seminar and saw and met Father Gary Thomas who the book is based on. He became an apprentice to an exorcist in Rome. Initially a sceptic and reluctant, he changed his mind as he saw what he believe is demonic possession. Father Gary Thomas himself was a consultant and said that the exorcisms in the movie was “very accurate.”

The movie: American seminary student Michael Kovak (Colin O’Donaghue) travels to Italy to take an exorcism course.

Director: Mikael Håfström

Starring: Colin O’Donoghue, Anthony Hopkins, Ciarán Hinds

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Veronica (2017)

A Spanish TV crew went inside the real house that inspired the movie.

The actual story: This movie is both a tragedy and very mysterious. It’s inspired by the actual Vallecas case where Estefanía Gutiérrez Lázaro died mysteriously. She suffered hallucinations and seizures after playing with an Ouija board in Madrid at her school. They were trying to contact a deceased boyfriend of one of her friends who died six months earlier. After this, things started to become– strange. Allegedly her house became haunted and she died where the cause of death is up to speculation.

The movie: Madrid, 1991. A teen girl finds herself besieged by an evil supernatural force after she played Ouija with two classmates.

Director: Paco Plaza

Starring: Sandra Escacena, Bruna González, Claudia Placer 

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The Mothman Prophecies (2002)

Signage of the Silver Bridge collapse in Point Pleasant. It was blamed on the myth of the Mothman.
Photo by Richie Diesterheft in 2010.

The actual story: This is one of the weirder ones. It is based on the book by John Keel from 1975 who in return is based on investigation of the West Virginia folklore, the Mothman. In Point Pleasant in 66-67 people reported to have seen a man-like figure flying in the sky, glowing red eyes, ten-foot wings. In 1967 the Silver Bridge collapsed and 46 people died. The incident sparked the legend even further when they blamed it on the Mothman and reported sightings of the creature to the bridge collapsing.

Read Also: The Legend of the Mothman

The movie: A reporter is drawn to a small West Virginia town to investigate a series of strange events, including psychic visions and the appearance of bizarre entities.

Director: Mark Pellington

Starring: Richard Gere, Laura Linney, David Eigenberg

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The Conjuring Series (2013-)

The Amityville house on 112 Ocean Avenue from 1973. One of the Warren’s more famous cases they worked on.

The actual story: Already somewhat of paranormal investigator celebrities before the movie came out, James Wan made them world wide famous with his Conjuring movies. Lorraine and Ed Warren worked as a team until they died in 2019 and 2006 respectively. and has been connected to some of the more famous hauntings, like Amityville and Annabelle. Ed is a self-taught and self-professed demonologist, while Lorraine says she is a clairvoyant and light trance medium.

The movie: Paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren work to help a family terrorized by a dark presence in their farmhouse.

Director:  James Wan

Starring:  Patrick Wilson, Vera Farmiga, Ron Livingston

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Winchester (2018)

Sarah Winchester, taken in 1865 by the Taber Photographic company of San Francisco.

The actual story: The movie is based on real life Sarah Lockwood Winchester (1839-1922). She was one of the wealthiest women in the world at that time. She spent her fortune and twenty years on building the Winchester mansion in San Jose, California. Legends arose from this, as she was convinced she was cursed, and to build her home was the only way to fight the curse.

The movie: Ensconced in her sprawling San Jose, California mansion, eccentric firearm heiress Sarah Winchester (Dame Helen Mirren) believes she is haunted by the souls of people killed by the Winchester repeating rifle.

Director: Michael Spierig and Peter Spierig (as The Spierig Brothers)

Starring: Helen Mirren, Sarah Snook, Finn Scicluna-O’Prey 

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Five Romantic Ghost Movies

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Want something ghostly and supernatural to watch on Valentine? Don’t have anyone to watch a horror movie with, but want to catch some ghosts? Her are ten romantic ghost movies to watch for ghost content without jump scares and demonic possessions.

Ghost (1990)

A, yes, the glowing Swayze

Better to just start with the obvious. Ghost was such a mega hit, it it almost a cliche. The cheesy story, weird 80’s CGI. Patrick Swayze in all his hairy glory, all of the haircuts to be honest. Its worth it, give in to your cheesy-80’s-romance-flick with a ghost!

After a young man is murdered, his spirit stays behind to warn his lover of impending danger, with the help of a reluctant psychic.

Director: Jerry Zucker

Starring: Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore, Whoopi Goldberg 

A ghost story (2017)

A bit weir, very stylized and a slow burner with beautiful cinematography. This movie pulls on your heart strings more than your thrill strings.

In this singular exploration of legacy, love, loss, and the enormity of existence, a recently deceased, white-sheeted ghost returns to his suburban home to try to reconnect with his bereft wife.

Director: David Lowery

Starring: Casey Affleck, Rooney Mara, McColm Cephas Jr. 

A Chinese ghost story – Sien lui yau wan (1987)

A Hong Kong classic, this Cantonese language movie is considered a classic. Hitting the list like on 1001 Movies to see before you die etc. It won a ton of awards in its time.

After a string of bad luck, a debt collector has no other choice than to spend the night in a haunted temple, where he encounters a ravishing female ghost and later battles to save her soul from the control of a wicked tree demon.

Director:   Siu-Tung Ching

Starring: Leslie Cheung, Joey Wang, Wu Ma 

Crimson Peak (2015)

For a true gothic romance in all its camp glory, check out Crimson Peak that had people confused. Was it suppose to be scary? Romantic? Sad? All of the above?

In the aftermath of a family tragedy, an aspiring author is torn between love for her childhood friend and the temptation of a mysterious outsider. Trying to escape the ghosts of her past, she is swept away to a house that breathes, bleeds – and remembers.

Director:  Guillermo del Toro

Starring: Mia Wasikowska, Jessica Chastain, Tom Hiddleston 

Truly, Madly, Deeply (1990)

Greatly overlooked because of it being released around the same time as Ghost, this is the UK version. With the award winning director (the Talented Mr. Ripley, Cold Mountain), and starring legends like Alan Rickman. The movie follows a well known premise though.

A woman dealing with inconsolable grief over the death of her partner gets another chance when he returns to earth as a ghost.

Director: Anthony Minghella

Starring: Juliet Stevenson, Alan Rickman, Jenny Howe 

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Ghost of Tu-Po — The Hungry Ghost

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After the Chinese nobleman Tu Po was betrayed by his own king and fellow nobles, he became a vengeful ghost, or Hungry Ghost as it is known as in Buddhism. Even in his afterlife he sought revenge on those who betrayed him and fought to restore his honor.

The concept of a ghost with unfinished business is found around the globe. In the eastern part of the world they are often known as Hungry Ghosts and they are deadly.

China has such a varied an long history, diverse culture, with different regions, religions and traditions as most ancient countries has. The tales and beliefs changes according to the ebb and flow of time and the legends of the hungry ghosts are many and varied.

Read More about: Chinese Ghosts and Haunted Places

The Hungry Ghost in Chinese Mythology

Before delving into the legend about Tu Po and how he was betrayed by his own king, let us have a closer look at exactly what a Hungry Ghost is.

As much of Chinese folklore and mythology comes from Buddhism, there are many similarities to other Buddhist countries. In any case it has been believed that every living person will become a ghost when we die known as a guǐ 鬼. It will then weaken, and fade away, dying again for a second time.

As mentioned earlier, the Hungry Ghost is not only a Chinese phenomenon, but a Buddhist as well as Asian one. Ghost stories of vengeful ghost can be found also in Japan with the Onryo or Korea with the Virgin Ghost for example.

This concept of the spirit of the deceased weakening before disappearing is seen as only natural and how it is supposed to be. The ancestors are honored, given sacrifices and held in esteem, thinking they have a part in the world as much as the living. Ancestral worship is the original basic of Chinese religions, and it is a core belief there is an existence after death. A deceased person’s soul is made up of yin and yang parts called hun and po. They are not immortal, and need offerings before going to the underworld for eternal rest.

When Revenge is more Important than Peace

The trouble with ghosts however is when that spirit is driven by anger and malice rather than a peaceful afterlife. This is called a Hungry Ghost (餓鬼 èguǐ and quỷ đói) and only happens on rare occasions as most spirits only wants to be at peace.

The Hungry Ghost: The concept of hungry ghost is found throughout Buddhist traditions. This is from the Sixth section of the Japanese Hungry Ghosts Scroll located at the Kyoto National Museum. The scroll depicts the world of the hungry ghosts, one of the six realms of Buddhism and contains tales of salvation of the hungry ghosts. This particular section shows Ananda, a disciple of Shakyamuni, teaching an incantation to achieve salvation to a hungry ghost who continuously belches flames from his mouth.

The creation of a Hungry Ghost happens when a person’s death has been exceptionally violent or unhappy. The ghosts are often given quite animalistic traits in the ghost stories and records. Although there are different categories and types of hungry ghosts, one common trait among them are that they are seeking a type of revenge of those who wronged them, or simply those who got in the way.

Although most accounts of Tu Po doesn’t give him animalistic traits like a monster, he definitely sought his revenge on those who wronged him like most vengeful ghosts are looking for, and therefore given the title of a Hungry Ghost.

Before becoming a Ghost – Tu-Po the Emperor’s Minister

Before becoming an ancient ghost, Tu Po used to be an important man in ancient China. The nobleman Tu Po 杜伯 is sometimes translated as Du Bo and he was the Duke of Tangdu. This was a Dukedom situated west of State of Yi Lin around were the Shaanxi province in northwest of China is today.

According to legend, the Tangdu people were descendants of the people living in the State of Tang, a Dukedom destroyed by Zhou Gong Dan that now ruled the empire. They were allowed to form a new State of Du, and became known as Tangdu or Du shi (杜氏).

Tu-Po was not always remembered as a hungry ghost, but was a prominent minister to King Xuan of Zhou (also known as Emperor Hsuan) who reigned from 827-783 B.C. Emperor Hsuan was the eleventh king of the Chinese Zhou Dynasty in a time were the kings words were the law and his minister Tu Po had to pay the ultimate price.

The empire: Map over the Jin (Tang) state during the late Spring and Autumn period as it was called, around the time of Tu-Po’s death and after. This is were he, and his ancestors resided and ruled.//Photo: Hugo Lopez – Wikimedia Commons user: Yug

The king is mostly remembered for fighting the ‘Western Barbarians‘, most probably Xianyun, an ancient nomadic tribe that invaded the Zhou empire on the Huai River. He also meddled in debacles of successions in States of Lu, Wey an Qi and was, according to history, not a popular one. Sima Qian, considered father of Chinese historiography, said: “From this time on, the many lords mostly rebelled against royal commands.” And the way the king ended his reign, is rumoured to be the work of the hungry ghost of Tu Po.

So Tu Po was from a stately and very powerful family and not afraid to speak up for what he believed in, even to the most powerful man in the dynasty. And this would cost him his life and make him a hungry ghost, haunting the earth and seeking revenge.

The Fall From Grace and Becoming a Vengeful Ghost

There are not very many sources detailing what happened before the haunting of Tu Po’s hauntings started. But according to one account, this is what happened.

The King: King Xuan of Zhou (827-783 B.C). Formerly known as Emperor Hsuan or King Suan.

On the ninth year as King, King Xuan of Zhou called all the lords of his empire into a meeting that would seal the fate of Tu Po to discuss an oncoming attack.

A rumor was out that a woman was about to become a danger of the town of Jiangshan for some reason, and the King ordered a mass execution of women. Exactly how this one woman could be considered a danger to an entire town is not really explained.

No matter what the reason behind this mass execution of women, it was seen as a truly horrible act that Tu Po disagreed with. Tu-Po publicly opposed to the order he was given and he spoke against his king in a time when the kings word was the law and anything else considered treason.

This final act of opposition would cost him his life as King Xuan ordered his execution for this as he saw this act of opposition as treason.

Before Tu Po was executed however, King Xuan of Zhou was warned that Tu Po’s ghost would stay in this world even in his afterlife to haunt him as Tu-Po himself said:

“If my majesty kills me without reason, the dead may not know, well that’s it. However, on the other hand, I will avenge myself on him, within three years.”

But despise the warnings, King Xuan went through the execution. Even though he was considered innocent of treason by most, Tu-Po was executed around 786 B.C. But this would not be the last time he was seen.

The Revenge of the Hungry Ghost

Weather Tu Po’s final words were taken seriously, is not mentioned. Three years after the execution however, the King brought his dukes to hunt on his own hunting grounds. There were hundreds of chariots, thousands of escorts following them as well as a ghost that promised he would return for revenge.

Ghost festival: Lotus-shaped lanterns are lit and set afloat in rivers and out onto seas to symbolically guide the lost souls to the afterlife.

At noon, Tu-Po appeared as a ghost, riding a white horse and a cart, wearing a red coat with a red bow and arrow in hand. He took up the chase of King Xuan and shot the king in the heart and broke the king’s spine. At the time, it is reported that no one saw the killing and no one heard it. No matter what the real situation was like, The king fell and Tu Po got his revenge.

If King Xuan really died of an arrow is today a bit unclear. In some accounts it is said that King Xuan died of something else after dreaming that Tu Po shot him to death with an arrow.

In both cases, the innocent and wronged minister got his revenge and King Xuan’s son, was the last of the western Zhou to lead.

The story has gone down in traditional legends, ever since. The Chinese philosopher, Mo Zi (470-391 B.C), said this about ghosts and about Tu-Po’s revenge:

“If from antiquity to the present, and since the beginning of man, there are men who have seen the bodies of ghosts and spirits and heard their voices, how can we say that they do not exist?

If none have heard them and none have seen them, then how can we say they do? But those who deny the existence of the spirits say: “Many in the world have heard and seen something of ghosts and spirits. Since they vary in testimony, who are to be accepted as really having heard and seen them?”

As we are to rely on what many have jointly seen and what many have jointly heard, the case of Tu Po is to be accepted.”

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Ghost of Tu-Po — The Hungry Ghost