#united states folklore

[hecatesdelights]

The Rougarou (original French loup-garou) is a familiar legend throughout French Louisiana. There are many variations, but the story generally involves a person who gets cursed, and becomes a flesh eating werewolf (or, occasionally, some other type of were-creature). Frequently the curse can be passed to another individual by biting them or draining their blood.

[psychopomp-recital]

2/18/24

Feeling like I wanna work with the folk devil and/or Satan. Anyone got any good resources or recommendations?

[whereserpentswalk]

They say there's a city, somewhere in the US, nobody is allowed to know exactly where, where nobody lives. It could be in any state, some people say it's between Philadelphia and New York along the roads of New Jersey, some people say it's out in the Californian desert in the shadow of Los Angelos, others say it's out in the fields of Illinois south of Chicago. Maybe it's in all of them, maybe there are many, maybe they move.

People have driven through it. They're not allowed to say that they did but some of them do. It looks like a normal city at first, not particularly interesting, very modern in all the worst ways, with an endless sprawl and built up downtown, no way to walk anywhere and no public transportation, it would be a small unremarkable city if not for the emptiness. If you're there during the day there just aren't any people, there at all. If you look closely, you'll notice there aren't any animals or plants either, the lawns are Astroturf, and the trees are plastic, rats and birds and crawling bugs know well to avoid it. Even the cryptids and vampires and flying saucers know to steer clear of it. Only humans lack the instincts to avoid it.

Most who come by it just drive through it, maybe it'll seem off, but most forget it, cities built like that are rather empty anywhere. But if you have to get out it becomes so much worse. You'll step into a gas station, or a store, or fast-food place. And you'll just be faced with nothing. Oh, everything they need to have in there is there, it's perfect, everything is so very clean, and well stocked, it's the perfect model location. But there's nobody there, there's nobody anywhere. You can go anywhere there, from the Starbucks to the 7-11, and it'll be the perfect model that even a ceo would be proud of, like an ad, like a stock photo, everything in it's perfectly regulated place, it's just empty. The only thing everything is missing is people. It's not abandoned, just empty.

Now, fewer have been there at night, so we cannot be sure of this, but there are of course theories. Some say, that when it gets dark, truly dark, when there's no sun at all, under the starless sky of a country filled with light, the residents come out of their homes. They may look human at first, but the smell, the blank eyes, the pale skin, will make it clear they are not. The living dead, in every house there's at least one, and most houses have more, zombie husbands and wives with their 2.5 zombie children. They're not slobbering monsters though, they may be zombies, but they're civilized zombies, and at night they go about their business, copying the human world perfectly.

Undead businessmen will get in their cars and drive to their offices, typing random nonsense on their computers, and going to meaningless meetings, with their zombie bosses yell at them. Zombie housewives will expressionlessly take their children to school, where they'll sit as their zombie teachers babble word salad, something that almost sounds like human speech but has no meaningful words, at them, pretending to teach them something humans would learn. And zombie service workers will happily go to their jobs as cashiers, exchanging money they could never know the amount of, for good and/or services, and in their restaurants making food for customers to look at, and sit with, and pretend to eat, even though they of course cannot it. It's all unconfirmable, but it's at least been officially denied. And of course, for those foolish enough to stay the night there, the town will find itself with new residents.

And some even say the zombie's necromancer is somewhere in the city. Perhaps she's a lich now, having built up the city from a small town of zombies decades ago, now living somewhere at the center of the city, pickled in a glass tank, or siting on a throne of humming wires and tubes all grey and shriveled. Or perhaps she has passed on the torch, and it's now her granddaughter or great granddaughter, watching over the city, making sure it runs perfectly, sitting there in secret with a little black dress and sunglasses and a black hat over her golden hair, somewhere in the endless sprawl, making sure her children are all well behaved and functioning properly. It's normal to wonder why she does this. They say a witch's or warlock's mind is unknowable but it's safe to speculate. Some people think she's building an army, but there are faster ways to do that, ways that don't require an entire city. Some say she makes money off of it somehow, but I know enough about these things to know she can't. Personally, I think she was just trying to create her idea of the perfect city, a place with no social problems, a little lobotomized utopia in the void.

[syoddeye]

childhood fixations never go away, they just pop up in your fanfic

[crypt1d-z]

SCP-6448 [NOT DEER]

CONTAINMENT CLASS: KETER DISRUPTION CLASS: KENEQ RISK CLASS: WARNING

SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES

Containment of SCP-6448 should be focused on investigation of deer exhibiting anomalous traits within and around the Appalachian area.¹ All civilian sightings of SCP-6448 should be attended to by Mobile Task Force Gamma-4 (“Green Stags”). Possible deaths resulting from SCP-6448 should be attributed to hiking accidents, and sightings are to be blamed upon Chronic Wasting Disease.²

The Site-44 Cryptozoology Division is tasked with ongoing research into the ‘not deer’ phenomenon. Should an SCP-6448 instance be captured, it is to be brought immediately to Site-44 for containment and study.³

DESCRIPTION

SCP-6448 is an anomalous branch of the Cervidae family.⁴ All members of this group display heightened intelligence and are presumed to be sapient. Many specimens exhibit some form of physical malformation, causing them to stand out from non-anomalous deer. While the exact details of physical abnormalities differ between instances, repeat commonalities are as follows:

Legs bent backwards

Barrel chested/bloated abdomen

Emaciation

Eyes belonging to unrelated animals

Forward-facing eyes

Jerky movements

Loss of fear towards humans

Tendency to walk on two hind legs

General bodily disfigurement

Aside from physical disfigurement, instances show severe divergence from the behaviour of other cervids. Namely, SCP-6448 are known to watch, observe and stalk humans, often for hours or days. This includes following humans to and from their homes, wherein they will proceed to steal belongings, weapons and food. Very rarely will SCP-6448 attack victims while they are indoors.

SCP-6448 are most commonly encountered in deep woodland, particularly at night or dusk, when a person is alone. Any form of direct acknowledgment of SCP-6448’s anomalous traits in these situations will always result in the victim’s termination.⁵ In such situations, personnel are to observe the extract of Cervus Protocol attached below immediately.

CERVUS PROTOCOL

Presently, SCP-6448 are known to inhabit only the Appalachian region of North America.⁶

HISTORY

SCP-6448 was officially assigned anomalous classification in 1980, though they have been recognised by local people since 1947. SCP-6448 is a firmly cemented figure in Appalachian folklore, known colloquially as the "Not Deer" due to their striking similarity to the species they imitate. Many locals claim to have encountered instances of SCP-6448, or possess knowledge of an individual who has. A majority of local communities living in rural areas of high activity are aware of the precautions required to avoid hostile encounters, primarily due to urban legends and stories involving the entities.

SCP-6448 were previously researched at Site-41, located in ████, North Carolina. On 11/01/1994, a group of 3 SCP-6448 instances broke into the Site utilising a tunnel system carved over an extended period of time. This triggered containment breach alarm systems and the Site entered lockdown protocol. The single instance kept in containment, being prepared for dissection, was lost in the breach and not recovered. Over the following decade, a further 5 SCP-6448 instances would be captured and contained, all of which would escape the Site through tunnels carved by other SCP-6448 entities. The decision was made to transfer all instances to Site-44, overseas, to prevent further breaches. Since this decision, no capture attempts have been successful.

ADDENDUM 6448.1: Recently Recorded Civilian Encounters

The first reports of SCP-6448 surfaced around the week of 07/07/1947. In the time since the genus’ discovery, many members of the public have encountered the entities, though most accidentally stumbling upon them do not alert local authorities. This is typically due to the SCP-6448 instance either merely watching the subject or becoming hostile. The following is a log of all recorded 911 calls related to SCP-6448 phenomena since the year 2000.

02/01/2000

Victim (aged 41, female) dialed emergency services after hearing their name being called from the woods near their home. The victim recounts the vocalisation being likened to a scream in a voice that they do not recognise and requested assistance in locating the source. Emergency personnel requested the subject place their phone on the floor outside the home to listen for the alleged sounds. After 2 minutes, a vocalisation was heard that was calling to the subject by name, emanating from the nearby forest.

The subject was instructed to investigate the disturbance themselves and keep services updated on the situation. The victim then begins to walk into the woodland, getting about 50 metres into the underbrush before inexplicably stopping. They claim there to be a noticeably large deer standing in the way of the path. She begins to walk closer, though states it does not move. Subject diverts from the path and begins walking in a different direction. After 30 minutes, no source of the voice is determined. The caller returns to their residence.

13/06/2002

Victim (aged 28, male) calls 911 regarding a home break-in. The caller notes numerous items to be missing from their residence and requests an investigation. Operators dispatch two investigators to visit the home and discern a potential perpetrator. The pair note that, based on earlier CCTV images, all cutlery, sharp objects, firearms, lightbulbs and a single copy of the novel ‘The Day After Roswell’ are missing. Also noted is that there is a complete lack of any fingerprints at the scene, with no doors or windows having been broken into. Analysis of the home’s CCTV footage revealed there to be a two hour period of missing film, with the exception of a single frame containing a Cervus nippon⁷ on its hind legs, reaching towards the camera. Its frontal hooves have been warped to resemble fingers. No footage of the entity exiting the home was discovered.

19/11/2005

A cattle farmer (aged 54, male) reported to local authorities the sudden disappearance of over 30% of his largest herd. Response teams searched the nearby area for 4 hours though found no trace of the cattle. The victim was recommended to set up trail cameras and note any unusual activity overnight. At 01:11 AM, two SCP-6448 are seen walking through the field before fleeing. One places an object into the ground, later discovered to be a single fork. A week after this discovery, 200 discarded bovine hooves appear at the location.

04/03/2009

Victim (age unknown, gender unknown) dials 911 to request assistance from animal services. The victim is stood within a forest in front of a Cervus elaphus⁸ which is violently contorting. The animal is repeatedly ramming itself into a tree, covered in blood and viscera. The victim begins to state "You'd better get a vet or something, I don't think it's well" before a piercing screech is heard and the line falls silent. Recovered footage depicts the aforementioned animal squirming, seemingly in pain. A viscous churning is audible as a black mass erupts out of the instance and the video turns to static.

11/10/2012

Victim (aged 23, male) is a junior wildlife officer at Cherokee National Forest, Tennessee. They radio their supervisor in early evening regarding a herd of Odocoileus virginianus⁹ within the reserve. Supposedly, there is a single animal that upon first glance appears average, though possesses divergent attributes including backwards joints, an enlarged abdomen and forward-facing eyes. Upon stating this, a distant whistle is audible and the victim stumbles slightly. They begin to say “What the he- did it just whistle at me?” before the sound of hooves rapidly getting closer is heard. Notably, the hoof steps did not sound to be in the traditional gallop of a cervid.

12/10/2012

The aforementioned victim’s supervisor calls authorities following the victim’s absence from the reserve night shift. Following this, their radio begins to crackle. The victim’s voice can be heard on the other end and he requests the supervisor’s attention.

He calls regarding a herd of Odocoileus virginianus within the reserve. They claim there is a single animal that upon first glance appears average, though possesses divergent attributes including backwards joints, an enlarged abdomen and forward-facing eyes. Suspecting the creature to be a rare genetic malformation, the victim requests their supervisor to come to the location. The supervisor questions the victim about what happened the night previous. There is no reply. Upon the supervisor’s and law enforcement’s arrival at the site, a herd of approximately 80 Odocoileus virginianus was present. A single entity is in the field’s centre and appeares to be standing separately from the rest of the group. It flees the scene upon realising the law enforcement’s presence. Where it formerly stood layed a park ranger's standard two-way radio.

08/04/2016

Victim (aged 35, female) dials 911 using a satellite phone, distressed. They state that they are in ████ County Woods and are being followed. She claims that, despite seeing no one for the duration of her hike, she “feels as if she’s being watched” and has heard someone walking behind her at various points in the trip. The victim is unable to give an adequate description of her location, but knows the route to return to her residence. Operators request the victim to return to a point wherein she can provide a sufficient geographic description of her position.

The victim remains on the line for the duration of the hike back to a readily used portion of the wilderness trail. Along the journey, various unnatural sounds can be heard. These include footsteps, rockslides, coughing, whispering and whistling. Nearing the main trail, all woodland noises such as birds and wind cease suddenly, and the victim states she can see a malformed deer carcass coated in a thick layer of a black slime-like substance. At this time, human screams can be heard in the distance. Operators request the victim continue and ignore other stimuli. Agents embedded in local law enforcement, suspecting SCP-6448 involvement, notify Gamma-4 to the situation. 20 minutes later, the victim returns to the main trail. Gamma-4, now operating the 911 call, inform the victim to not respond to any further unusual activity and briefly outline Cervus Protocol. For the duration of the victim’s journey to her home, two sets of breathing are audible.

The victim successfully returns to her residence and shuts the door behind her. Now out of sight from SCP-6448, agents inquire upon the victim’s address and the victim promptly complies. Operatives instruct the victim to have possession of all firearms and weapons on the premises and to barricade herself inside a safe space with one exfil point. The victim swiftly begins grabbing all available weapons and throwing them inside a wardrobe. It is at this time that there is a knock on the front door. The victim does not respond and continues to hoard sharp objects from kitchen drawers. The knocking becomes more violent as the handle is being jostled and shaken incessantly. A voice on the other side repeats the phrase “Hello, it is me. Hello, let me in.” in a calm manner as the door begins to shake. The victim retreats to her wardrobe, armed with a small firearm. Upon sealing herself in the space, the knocking ceases and footsteps can be heard, decreasing in volume. The sound of galloping is audible as the front door caves in. Hoof steps can now be heard inside the home.

The entity continues to repeat “Hello, it is me. Hello, let me in.” as it searches the small building. A bright light flashes overhead, seemingly circling the house. Eventually the entity enters the victim’s bedroom. Through a small slit in the wardrobe door, the victim can see a Cervus canadensis¹⁰ standing on its hind legs and surveying the room. Its movements are crooked and stiff, seeming to struggle to stand in a bipedal fashion. It slouches down to a quadrupedal crouch, similar to the stance of an arachnid. It inhales heavily, and its head locks on the view of the wardrobe. It is noted as possessing human eyes. It scampers towards the subject and opens the door. A single gunshot is heard. Responders found no trace of either SCP-6448 or the victim.

It should be noted that this represents a small fraction of human to SCP-6448 encounters, as the majority of occasions go unnoticed and undocumented. On each of these occasions, all associated video, photographs and objects were confiscated by MTF Gamma-4, whom also called off public investigation. Cover stories 356α “Home Break-In” and 898Γ “Missing 411” were successfully implemented.

ADDENDUM 6448.2: INCIDENT 6448-ALPHA

On 29/11/2019, MTF Gamma-4 (“Green Stags”) successfully detained and captured an instance of SCP-6448, with the assistance of MTF Nu-7 (“Hammer Down”)’s heavy vehicles division and highly experimental shock rifles. The resulting skirmish left a single instance unconscious, which was swiftly placed aboard an armoured CH-47 Chinook helicopter en route to Site-44 in England to prevent outside assistance. Upon reaching the Site, the sedated entity was transferred to a containment cell without incident. The following is a log of events thereafter.

DATE: 30/11/2019. LOCATION: Site-44, Foulness Island, England

[BEGIN LOG]

SCP-6448 instance is contained within a large reinforced steel containment cell, having just awoken from heavy sedation. Cryptozoology Specialist F. Ozz stands in front of a large one-way glass window that encompasses the room’s South side.

Researcher Ozz: Greetings, SCP-6448.

The instance suddenly bolts upright and stares at the intercom.

Researcher Ozz: Can you understand me? We’ve seen your genus speak English just fine in the past.

The instance does not respond. It begins licking its arm.

Researcher Ozz: Please, we know your secret.

The instance pauses.

Researcher Ozz: Admittedly it wasn’t exactly well kept. If you’d just look at yourself for more than a few seconds, it is very clear that you’re not… normal.

The instance is stood facing away from the window. Its neck swivels 180°, visibly breaking multiple vertebrae as there is an audible crack. It does not blink.

Researcher Ozz: (To containment staff) I thought you said this was one-way? (Staff mumbling) It is?

The instance’s gaze remains locked on Researcher Ozz.

Researcher Ozz: Are you something imitating deer? It is clear that, if so, you possess basic anatomical knowledge on them, though details are faulty. In fact, a better question would be… how? Assuming you are not what you pretend to be.

The instance opens its mouth, which contains abnormally sharp teeth. Its jaw moves in a manner that seems to imitate speech. No intelligible dialect is heard, rather, a sound similar to gagging or choking is audible.

Researcher Ozz: Shall we move on? What I’m more concerned with here is why you take our people. Is it to settle a vendetta? For food? Spite?

The instance blinks for the first time in the interview. The movement is noticeably forced.

Researcher Ozz: Responding is mandatory.

The instance shows no reaction.

Researcher Ozz: (Sternly) If you will not comply, maybe you’d like to see your brand new containment cel-

SCP-6448: R-

Researcher Ozz: (Pauses)

SCP-6448: R- Rasaerch. Research. (The instance speaks in a distorted version of Ozz’s own voice)

Researcher Ozz: Research? What kind of-

SCP-6448: July 7, 1947.

The instance suddenly rams the 20 inch thick one-way glass, cracking it slightly.

Researcher Ozz: (Stumbles backwards)

The instance begins to collapse. It contorts violently and begins screaming. Its abdomen bulges and writhes.

Researcher Ozz: Get the Stags in here now!

A black, viscous, tendrily mass erupts out of the instance's side. It leaps and squirms around the cell before shattering the viewing window. The remaining carcass is entirely hollow.

Site-44 Breach System: Containment breach detected. All personnel report to the nearest safe room. Containment Sector 4 blast doors will seal in 10 seconds.

The tendrilous mass swiftly manoeuvres outside of Sector 4 in seconds, clearing the lockdown area. It travels in the direction of the main exit.

Site-44 Breach System: Full Site lockdown initiated. Locking main exit in 5 seconds.

The mass clears the main desk. It shatters the glass on the front exit and disappears into the outside shrubbery.

[END LOG]

A two month long search proved inefficient in locating the escaped anomaly. Additionally, since this incident, there has been an unprecedented increase of CWD afflicted deer and UFO reports in the area surrounding Site-44. Further research is ongoing.

FOOTNOTES

Appalachia is a mountainous region in the Eastern United States that is known for its dense woodland.

CWD, sometimes called zombie deer disease, is a prion-based illness affecting members of the Cervidae family. It causes extreme loss of motor function control, may affect decision making and is always 100% fatal. While CWD is a legitimate disease, the majority of cervids in Appalachia exhibiting traits are known instances of SCP-6448.

Site-44 is located in Essex, England. See History for details.

More commonly known as deer. This includes true deer, muntjac, reindeer, elk and moose.

Though treating SCP-6448 instances as normal cervids triggers no reaction.

[UNDER REVIEW FOLLOWING INCIDENT 6448-ALPHA]

Sika Deer

Red Deer

White-Tailed Deer

Elk

[thefaezoo]

Rawheadandbloodybones was first cited between 1548-1550, which lists “Hobgoblin, Rawhed, and Bloody-bone” with punctuation that implies the latter two are separate beings. It wasn’t until the 19th century that the names were joined together and became known as one.

Around 1693, John Locke (the enlightened thinker, not the guy from Lost) wrote a nursery rhyme about the creature. Yeah, I know. I thought that was random as fuck too.

Rawhead and Bloody Bones

Steals naughty children from their homes

Takes them to his dirty den

And they are never to be seen again

Although originally from East Anglia, Lincolnshire, Warwickshire, Lancashire, and Yorkshire, Rawheadandbloodybones appears quite a bit in folklore from the American midwest and south. He is a pretty traditional boogeyman in behavior - he lives in dark cupboards or under the stairs, and captures children. In many stories, he appears either as a skinned pig or as a hog skeleton. But in Ireland they say he looks like a hairy, goblin-like creature.

[rachel-sylvan-author]

"The United States of Cryptids: A Tour of American Myths and Monsters" by J.W. Ocker

Thank you @thecaseofbooks for the rec! ❤️

[ariel-seagull-wings]

THE LITTLE BOAT THAT COULD SAIL ON LAND AND ON SEA

@isareadsandwatches

@themousefromfantasyland @adarkrainbow @the-blue-fairie @thealmightyemprex @piterelizabethdevries @thevampiricnihal @princesssarisa @professorlehnsherr-almashy @amalthea9 @barbossas-wench @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @fairytaleslive

@strawbebehmod @softlytowardthesun

(French-American Folktale from Missouri)

It's good to tell you that once upon a time there were an old man and an old woman who had three sons.

The old king had said that anyone who could make a boat that would sail on land and on sea would have his daughter in marriage.

The oldest of the couple's three sons said to his mother, "I'm going to make one of those."

He made some biscuits for himself in the ashes and went on his way.

When he got into the woods, he met and old Grandmother. She said, "Good day, little boy."

He answered, "Hello, old witch."

"Where are you going, little boy?" she asked.

"It's none of your business," said the boy. "I'm just going to make wooden plates."

The old woman answered, "Well, then, wooden plates is what I wish for you."

The boy arrived in the woods and began to cut down some trees. But all of the chips that he got changed immediately into wooden plates. He chopped until around noontime, but all he had for his efforts was a pile of wooden dishes.

So finally, he tucked one or two of his wooden dishes under his arm and left. When he got home, his mother asked him what he had gotten done.

"I made some wooden dishes," he answered.

Then the second of the three brothers said, "I'm going to go out and try to make the boat tomorrow morning." The next morning, he fixed his little lunch and left as the first one had.

When he got into the woods, he too met the old Grandmother. She said to him, "Good morning, little boy."

But her answered, "Hello, you old hag!"

"Where are you going, little boy?" asked the Grandmother.

"I'm going out to make some wooden spoons," he answered.

"Well, wooden spoons is what I wish for you," she said. He got into the woods and began to chop down trees, but everything that he chopped turned right away into wooden spoons. After a while, he got tired of making all those wooden spoons.

He took two or three of them and brought them to his mother and said, "Here's what I made today."

The next morning, the youngest son said that he was going to go out and try too. He said, "But I don't know what I'll end up making."

The next morning, he fixed his little lunch and left.

He met the old Grandmother, too. She said to him, "Good morning, little boy."

He answered, "Good morning, Grandmother."

Then, she asked, "Don't you have any biscuits that you could left me have?"

"Ah!" he answered. "I do have some, Grandmother, but they are so unappetizing that I'm kind of ashamed to give them to you. I made them myself in the ashes this morning."

He got out his little sack, and the old Grandmother took a piece of one biscuit. The youngest son said, "But take a whole one, Grandmother!"

"Oh, no," she said, "I just wanted to see what would you do. Where are you off to, little boy?"

"Well, I'm going to try to make a ship that can go on land and on sea."

"Well, that's what I wish for you," she answered, "a ship that will go on land. You'll have it all made before the sun goes down."

All the trees that Little John cut down were already hewn, notched, and put in their place. Around three o'clock, Little John began to look at this ship.

"I think it's done," he said. "I don't see anything left to do on it."

The old Grandmother arrived where he was, while he was looking at his ship.

"Have you finished, Little John?" she asked.

"I don't see anything else that it needs, Grandmother," he answered.

She said, "All it needs now are the sails. We can't finish those tonight," she said.

"Go and collect all the old rags you can find in the town," she told Little John.

"Put as many as you can carry on your back and bring them here. Tomorrow morning I'll come back to help finish your ship."

So the next morning, Little John brought all the old rags he could carry on his back.

The old Grandmother came back to help him, and they spread the rags out on the ground. She took her little magic wand and touched the rags with it.

They all turned into beautiful sails and appeared where they belonged on the ship.

The old woman said, "Now, get onto your ship and take on all the man you meet along the way."

He went quite a way and met a man who was lying next to a spring. He stopped his ship and asked the man what he was doing there.

The man said, "I've drunk up all the water in this spring twice now, and I'm waiting for it to come back again."

"Leave the spring alone," said Little John, "and come with me."

"That's all right with me. I'll be glad to come," said the man. Little John told the man his name, and the man answered, "My name is Great Drinker."

He went a little farther and saw a man who was licking stones. He said, "What are you doing, friend?"

The man answered, "Well, they used to make bread here. These stones were part of an oven seven years ago. I can still taste the bread."

"Well, leave your oven behind," Little John said to him, "and come with me. You might be able to find something better than that."

The man said, "My name is Great Eater."

They went a little farther and found a man who was blowing across the sea. His cheeks were all puffed out. Little John stopped the boat and asked him "What are you doing, my friend?"

"I'm turning a mill on the other side of the sea," answered the man.

"Leave your windmill alone and come with me," said Little John.

"I'll be glad to go with you," said the man. "My name is Great Blower."

They went a little farther and came upon a man who was lying down on a field that had just been plowed.

"What are you doing, my friend?" asked Little John.

"I'm listening to see if I can hear my oats growing. My name is Great Listener," answered the man.

"Leave your oats alone and come with me," said Little John to him.

"It's all the same to me. I'll come with you," answered the man.

Then, a little farther on, he met another man who was running behind a rabbit, and this man had millstones tied to his legs, to keep him from running so fast, so that he wouldn't outrun the rabbit.

Little John said to him, "What are you doing, good man?"

"Well, I'm trying to catch that rabbit, but I keep running too fast and passing him right by," answered the man.

Little John answered, "Well, leave that rabbit be and come with me."

"I'll be glad to go with you," answered the man. "My name is Great Runner."

When they got to the King's house, Little John stopped his ship right on the square in front of his house. He went in to tell the King that he had made the boat that could float on land and on sea and said, "Now will you give me the Princess to marry?"

"No," answered the King. "Not before you find a man who can drink all the liquor I have in my cellar."

Little John went back to his ship, angry.

Great Drinker asked him, "What's the matter, Little John?"

"Oh, he doesn't want to give me the Princess unless I can find a man who can drink up all the liquor he has in his cellar."

"Well, go tell him that you have found the man. I'll drink up all his old liquor!"

So Little John went and told the King that he had found the man. The King said to him, "Bring him here at nine tomorrow morning."

The next morning at nine o'clock, the King had all his barrels of liquor outside in the front yard.

Great Drinker began to tap into them. He grabbed them, drank them dry, and then threw the empty barrells away over to the side.

When he had drunk the last one, he called to the King to bring him some more.

But the King said, "That will be enough for you today." Well, then Little John said to the King, "Now will you give me your daughter to marry?"

But the King said "Not before you can find me a man who can eat all the food off a table that is set for one hundred persons."

Great Eater was standing behind Little John and said, "Well, tell him that you have a man who can do that." Little John said to the King "I have that man."

The King told him, "Bring him here at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

So the next morning at nine o'clock, the table was all set up.

Great Eater ate his way all around the table, and he ate every last crumb. He even ate the tips of the chicken thigh bones. Then he called out to the King, "Bring me some more!"

The King answered, "No, that's enough for you today. If that doesn't kill you, we'll do better for you another time."

Then, Little John asked the King, "Well are you going to give me your daughter now?"

"Not before you find me a man who can win her by racing against her," answered the King. "Three miles from here there is a spring. They have to go to the spring to fill their bottles, and the man who will the Princess has to get back here to the Palace before her."

Little John said, "I have a man who can run fast."

The King answered, "Go get your man."

So Little John came back with Great Runner, and Great Runner and the Princess started their race.

Great Runner got to the fountain, filled his bottle of water, and was halfway back before he met the Princess still on her way to the spring.

He said to himself, "I think I'll take a little rest," and he lay down.

After awhile, Great Eater said to Little John, "Great Runner ought to be back here by now."

Great Listener said, "Wait a minute, I'll tell you where he is."

He put his ear to the ground and began to listen. "He's lying down asleep. I can hear him snoring. And the Princess has gotten ahead of him."

Great Blower said, "Wait a minute. I'll push the Princess back."

He puffed up his cheeks and began to blow. The wind got so strong that the Princess had to turn her back to it.

It also woke up Great Runner, who looked at the path and saw the Princess's tracks going back to the castle.

Great Listener said, "Stop blowing now. He's awake."

In just a few moments, Great Runner had arrived back at the castle. He brought his bottle of water to the old King.

It was a long time before the Princess got back too. The King asked her, "What were you doing?"

She answered, "Don't ask! I was ahead of him once, but this big wind came up that pushed me halfway back to the spring. That woke up Great Runner who was lying down taking a nap, and he beat me."

Then, Little John asked the King, "Well, are you going to give me the Princess now?"

"Yes," answered the King.

"I should have given her to you right away. I would have saved my liquor, and all the food Great Eater devoured. That would have been enough for the wedding feast."

So Little John and the Princess got married. Great Drinker, Great Eater, Great Listener, Great Runner, and Great Blower all stayed with Little John and the Princess for the rest of their days.

[nickysfacts]

When you’re such a bad neighbor that the locals start to believe that your wife gave birth to a literal devil!

😂😈

[superbly-charging-at-78-percent]

Theres five types of United States folklore:

It knows where you are. It’s always here. It’s gonna kill you

These cool guys did so many amazing things long ago and then died

My cousin saw a big frog in a pond ‘round ‘ere

literally just aliens

something weird happened nearby so be careful

[psychopomp-recital]

What is your favorite folklore story or mythological tale relating to death/death-associated entities?

[call-me-maggie13]

If anyone is wondering what the United States Navy listens to on deployment, I will tell you. It is mostly @taylorswift. There’s a little bit of Disney music and some country songs, but it’s mostly Taylor Swift.

Now picture this: the scariest man you know, big and mean and scary, screaming and crying and singing Marjorie into a mop handle. Now picture 20 or so young men choreographing a dance routine to Style. In their uniforms. Now picture a guys vs. gals dance-off to I Forgot That You Existed.

My chief would yell at anyone who tried to play a non-Taylor’s version of any of her songs. We would argue about the best Taylor ballads during watch and had album release parties the day after folklore and evermore dropped. You have not lived until you have dissected Taylor Swift song lyrics with four grown men in dress blues while an officer tries to redirect us. Nothing will ever compare to my SLPO sending us home early because he found out she was releasing folklore and he needed to “emotionally prepare” himself (he bought three bottles of wine).

I know everyone assumes we talked about sports or whatever but you can’t really keep up with those in the middle of the ocean, so we spent a lot of time listening to music because there are only so many stories a person can tell. Unless you’re Taylor Swift, then there’s a never ending supply.

These are the people the US government has defending the country.

One of my buddies just got back from deployment and she’s a submariner so they really really don’t get any news from outside the boat and she sent me a multitude of snaps of her reacting to midnights and the eras tour. There was a lot of screaming and crying and curses. I have never been happier to be out of the military than I was when I realized she has to catch up on the last six months of Taylor lore and Easter eggs.

[crunchyhummus]

[lavender-cherry-pie]

With the rust comes ghosts and gunpowder — Jersey isn't the only one who befriends their terrors. They say Jenny Wade was baking bread for the Union soldiers when that stray bullet came in her house, and that Augusta Bitner tripped down the stairs in her wedding dress. Our Bethlehem holds plenty of Spirit, but far less holy than its namesake. Don't call out to the ghosts of Devil's Den—the gunfire echoed so loud it blew out their eardrums so they can't hear you, anyways.

Then there's the buildings were they shoved the ones society wanted out of sight. That pain scratches a mark into reality and it is best you stay away, no matter how tempting the tours might be.

The Susquehanna carries its secrets deep and dark and too often tainted where we got too close and comfortable with it. Pretty to look at but it carries the name of ghosts right past the city and even if we don't care to remember, it does.

Step away from towns and realize why our name means Penns Woods and how you have to reassure yourself that sound like a baby crying late at night in the trees is just a bobcat and nothing worse. Speaking of night, don't drive after dark anywhere near the forest unless you can stop on a dime because the wildlife do not give a damn about your vehicle or your life and I've seen cars crumble and the deer go hopping off like the supernatural jackasses they are.

That's why we have nerves of steel out here, even long after the foundries went cold.

it’s all you americans talk about… liminal space this… cryptid that

[angela-yuriko-smith]

Asian/Pacific American Heritage Month: Spotlight on Alma Katsu's THE FERVOR

Celebrating Asian/Pacific American Heritage Month with Alma Katsu!

Today’s guest is Alma Katsu, author of The Fervor, a fantastic novel set in 1944, that tangles the lives of a newspaper reporter, a newly ordained minister, Japanese internees, and a Japanese scientist around a mysterious illness. The narrative alternates among several characters, drawing them together as more is revealed about the illness spreading through the internment camp and the appearance…

[neechees]

Historical Indigenous Women & Figures [6]:

Queen Nanny: the leader of the 18th century Maroon community in Jamaica, she led multiple battles in guerrilla war against the British, which included freeing slaves, and raiding plantations, and then later founding the community Nanny Town. There are multiple accounts of Queen Nanny's origins, one claiming that she was of the Akan people from Ghana and escaped slavery before starting rebellions, and others that she was a free person and moved to the Blue Mountains with a community of Taino. Regardless, Queen Nanny solidified her influence among the Indigenous People of Jamaica, and is featured on a Jamaican bank note. Karimeh Abboud: Born in Bethlehem, Palestine, Karimeh Abboud became interested in photography in 1913 after recieving a camera for her 17th birthday from her Father. Her prestige in professional photography rapidly grew and became high demand, being described as one of the "first female photographers of the Arab World", and in 1924 she described herself as "the only National Photographer". Georgia Harris: Born to a family of traditional Catawba potters, Harris took up pottery herself, and is credited with preserving traditional Catawba pottery methods due to refusing to use more tourist friendly forms in her work, despite the traditional method being much more labour intensive. Harris spent the rest of her life preserving and passing on the traditional ways of pottery, and was a recipient of a 1997 National Heritage Fellowship awarded by the National Endowment for the Arts, which is the highest honor in the folk and traditional arts in the United States. Nozugum: known as a folk hero of the Uyghur people, Nozugum was a historical figure in 19th century Kashgar, who joined an uprising and killed her captor before running away. While she was eventually killed after escaping, her story remains a treasured one amongst the Uyghur. Pampenum: a Sachem of the Wangunk people in what is now called Pennsylvania, Pampenum gained ownership of her mother's land, who had previously intended to sell it to settlers. Not sharing the same plans as her mother, Pampenum attempted to keep these lands in Native control by using the colonial court system to her advantage, including forbidding her descendants from selling the land, and naming the wife of the Mohegan sachem Mahomet I as her heir. Despite that these lands were later sold, Pampenum's efforts did not go unnoticed. Christine Quintasket: also known as "Humishima", "Mourning Dove", Quintasket was a Sylix author who is credited as being one of the first female Native American authors to write a novel featuring a female protagonist. She used her Sylix name, Humishima, as a pen name, and was inspired to become an author after reading a racist portrayal of Native Americans, & wished to refute this derogatory portrayal. Later in life, she also became active in politics, and helped her tribe to gain money that was owed them. Rita Pitka Blumenstein: an Alaskan Yup'ik woman who's healing career started at four years old, as she was trained in traditional healing by her grandmother, and then later she became the first certified traditional doctor in Alaska and worked for the Alaska Native Tribal Health Consortium. She later passed on her knowledge to her own daughters. February 17th is known as Rita Pitka Blumenstein day in Alaska, and in 2009 she was one of 50 women inducted into the inaugural class of the Alaska Women's Hall of Fame Olivia Ward Bush-Banks: a mixed race woman of African American and Montaukett heritage, Banks was a well known author who was a regular contributor to the the first magazine that covered Black American culture, and wrote a column for a New York publication. She wrote of both Native American, and Black American topics and issues, and helped sculptor Richmond Barthé and writer Langston Hughes get their starts during the Harlem Renaissance. She is also credited with preserving Montaukett language and folklore due to her writing in her early career.

part [1], [2], [3], [4], [5] Transphobes & any other bigots need not reblog and are not welcome on my posts.