THE GHOUL WHO WAS THWARTED (Revised by BOST 2025)

 THE GHOUL WHO WAS THWARTED 

(Revised by BoSt 2025)

In ancient times in Northern lands, there was a brilliant, tall, stout, handsome, long shoulder length blond haired, blue eyed, young man called Endre Bjorn who had successfully passed the State military examination in Capital, and had been ordered to go, by a specific date, to report for duty at frontier Telon Province.

As it was the rainy season, he was dressed appropriately with his belongings wrapped in waterproof skins and loaded on horseback. Following the main highways, he rode and whenever possible, galloped with eagerness to reach his destination in time.

On this day the weather had not been particularly cooperative. Gusting winds and sudden downpours hindered his progress all along the way. Dusk was fast approaching, and he was nowhere near a town or an inn where he could pass the night in relative, dry comfort.

01- ENDRE BJORN

The buildup of ominous clouds above persuaded him to veer off onto a side road leading to a small village nestled in the woods. He needed to seek (shelter) immediate accommodations before darkness blanketed the earth. He spotted a peasant, returning from the fields at the end of the day’s work loaded with fresh fodder for the animals and inquired as to a possible night’s lodging.

The peasant shook his head, “It’s not that we are inhospitable, but there are only impoverished families in this village. You are certain not to find any room in any of the huts.”  Then in conciliatory mood he directed the stranger to an old, dilapidated Temple still standing just outside of the village. At least there he could spend the night somewhat sheltered from the harsh elements.

Endre Bjorn thanked the peasant and rode away.  He eventually came upon the badly neglected structure, half buried in vines, runners and rampant vegetation. With some difficulty he pushed open the creaking door and stepped in. At once his lungs were assailed by a musky smell and dust lay inches high everywhere. Thick cobwebs hid most of the surfaces. In the niches he saw barely visible statues of gods so decayed through years of neglect that he could not distinguish one from the other.

The suffocating air forced Endre to go outside.  He gasped and gasped then looked about him when he could breathe bit more easily. As night cloaked the premises he fetched a candle from his bundle and lit it. Going around the main temple structure he came upon a portion of the second story that was precariously attached, barely hanging on to the main structure.   Following the trellises off to the side he found a protected alcove under an old flight of stone steps that ended abruptly, going nowhere.

“This will do for the night.” He grumbled under his breath then, fetching his knapsack, spread it out under the stone steps. He tied his horse to an old tree and placed some fodder before him. Next he took his flask from the saddle and wet his dry throat. He leaned back and began washing down some dry rations to satiate his sudden grumbling tummy. The rains came and went until the dark sky cleared of the ominous clouds which were replaced with scattered puffs that parted periodically to let the waning new moon peep through.

Endre Bjorn, rather exhausted from travel, had just closed his eyes in sleep when a rustling sound in the temple startled him awake. What’s more, a sudden icy breeze swept over his face making him shudder involuntarily.

The moonlight just then revealed a chalk-faced woman dressed in a dirty old style, long white gown coming out of the temple. She stole past quietly as though she were afraid of being seen.

Endre quickly swallowed his fear. Lying perfectly still he pretended to be asleep and covertly watched her with half-closed eyes. Curiously, the woman drew a rope from her sleeve and looked at it for a time before instantly vanishing into thin air.  This confirmed she was an apparition, most likely a ghost of one who had hung herself. He got up quietly and traced her steps. 

Sure enough, she went into the village and when she came to a certain house she slipped into the courtyard through a crack in the door.  As he was keen to find out her reason for haunting this premise, Endre abandoned propriety and leapt over the wall after her. Standing before him was a modest three roomed house. Crossing the rather empty courtyard, he reached the rear room where a lamp was burning dimly. Endre looked through the window into the room, and there he spotted a young woman of about twenty sitting on the bed, sighing deeply. Her kerchief however was soaked through with tears. Beside her in a crib lay a little child fast asleep.

The woman repeatedly looked up toward the beam of the ceiling. She appeared in great dismay, one moment she would weep and the next she would gently, lovingly, stroke the child. Endre, following her gaze positioned himself so as to see more clearly the object of her attention.  His eyes avidly searched the high ceiling and finally he spotted the dark apparition dressed in white, sitting up on the beam. Momentarily she glowed. He could see clearly now as she, with an eerie smile, passed the rope around her neck and then, eyes bulging, tongue sticking out, she mimicked being hanged.  Egging on the poor woman on, the ghost hissed with hostility one moment then in the next beckoned alluringly with a hand gesture.

Each time the young woman looked up as though drawn by an irresistible command, remained focused as if mesmerized, then snapped out of her reverie only when the child wiggled or gurgled.  This went on for some time.

Unexpectedly the young woman in a resolute voice addressed the Ghost: "You say it would be best for me to die. Very well, then, I will die; but oh, I cannot bear to part with my baby!" Once more cupping her face, she burst into heart-wrenching tears, but the heartless ghost merely scoffed and threatened her. In an undecipherable communication the apparition next reached out softly in order to coax her.

When the exhausted young woman finally yielded to all that pressure and in resignation declared: "Enough, do not torture me any more… I’ll do as you wish, I will die. Just leave my baby in peace."

Endre for a time was lost for what to do. He could make noise or force his way in to stop or at least impede the evil apparition’s aim. The very real consequence of being chastised for impropriety or charged as trespasser however, made him hesitate.

“But can I just stand by and do nothing?”  As he struggled to find the right course of action, the young woman meanwhile had gone over to her chest of clothes, put on new garments, and painted her face before the mirror. Then she drew up a bench and climbed up on it. She undid her girdle and knotted it to the beam. She had already stretched forth her neck and was about to tie the other end around her neck when the child suddenly awoke and began to cry.

To Endre’s relief, the woman aborted the suicide, climbed down and, taking the baby to her bosom, stroked the infant's head and chest as she rocked her body slowly back and forth. Tears streamed from her eyes like a string of pearls and fell onto her child. She wept and wept.

 The irate ghost meanwhile heartlessly growled and hissed at this delay. She was so close to reaching her objective.  She had haunted this young woman for many months wearing away her resolve. In a short while the child had again fallen asleep, and the woman once more began to look aloft. Then she rose, again climbed on the bench, and was about to lay the noose about her neck when Endre, risking all, began to call out loudly and drum on the windowpane to stop her. Then, with one hard punch, he broke through the pane and climbed into the room. The shocked and frightened woman fell to the ground unconscious while the ghost vanished into thin air.

Fortunately for him there was no other about. Endre picked up the unconscious woman and gently laid her on her bed. Then gently slapped her cheeks tried to bring her around.  As she was about to regain consciousness, he drew away to a distance, intent on leaving. Suddenly however, something hanging down from the beam, like a cord without an end caught his eye. Knowing that it belonged to the ghost of the hanged woman he reached for it and tugged at it. Wrapping it into a coil he placed it in his inner pocket. 

By this time the young woman had gained her full faculties. She trembled with fright at the perceived danger from an intruder.

Endre Bjorn with a placating smile and in a soothing voice tried to reassure the young woman: "Forgive this intrusion. I mean you no harm, but I could not just simply stand by and have you throw your life away.  Your child needs you to take good care of him! You have but one life to lose in this world!"  Convinced that she was now calmer, he left her and went outside.

His thoughts, nevertheless, turning to the vindictive ghost and expecting retaliatory trouble from her, he headed straight for the Temple where he had left his sword right by his baggage.

He never made it to the Temple however, as halfway there, he encountered the angry ghost looking even more menacing, waiting for him in centre of the road.

Barring his way, the ghost growled: “You have interrupted my plans and have thus wronged me terribly. I was the former wife of that faithless man; one so callously cast me aside in favour of that woman because of my inability to give him an offspring. His cold and cruel ways drove me in the end to suicide where I am now condemned to roam the Earth and suffer this vile existence for all eternity. He happens to be away for a long time, and I used this opportunity to affect my revenge on him. She was blameless yes, but …” The phantom appeared for a moment or two truly remorseful but then quickly rebounded and again glowered (looked daggers). “As you have interceded, there remains little for me to do now. Unfortunately I cannot depart without that thing I left behind me in my hurry. I know you have it, and so I demand you return the item that rightfully belongs to me."

Endre Bjorn showed her the rope, "Is this the thing you mean? I’m sorry for what has happened to you. But why exact revenge on an innocent being? Your grievance is with your husband not her. I fear if I were to give it back to you may once I’m gone try again to snuff out an innocent life.  And that I cannot be party to."

With these words he wound the rope around his arm and said: "Now be off with you!"

The ghost in her desperation now grew furious. Her face turned greenish-black, her hair fell in wild disorder down her neck, her eyes grew bloodshot, and her tongue hung far out of her mouth. She stretched forth both hands and tried to seize Endre, but he struck out at her with his clenched fist.

Ghoul fought back fiercely and at one instance her long razor-sharp talons (fingernails like pincers) succeeded in inflicting a deep cut right through the cloth in Endre’s arm and from the deep slash oozed blood which stained his sleeve crimson. Endre did not wince (flinch, recoil) instead, he cooly, dipped his finger at the wound and flecked (splattered) those few drops of blood targeting her face and, since the ghosts cannot endure human blood, with a shrilling hiss she ceased her attack, jumped back (moved off) a few paces to safe distance. Her fury unleashed, growling she next hurled threats and vile abuses at him. Fortunately, just then, announcing the daybreak, the cock in the village had begun to crow. Then the ghost let out an ear deafening shrill cry and disappeared before the first rays of the morning sun hit her.

In the meantime, the farmer-folk of the village having been apprised of the happenings, had rushed forth to thank Endre Bjorn. It seems that after he had left the woman, her husband had unexpectedly come home early and despite her effort to conceal it, recognizing her still lingering, traumatized state, had asked to learn the reason for it.  Subsequently, for the first time ever, he had learned of her long-suffering ordeal and, what had transpired that very night. Her husband and the busybody neighbours, hence, had set out together in haste to intercept and (forgiving his, albeit unintentional, impropriety) thank the stranger for thwarting the evil ghost’s design.

When they came upon Endre, he was still beating the air with his fists and talking wildly. So they called out to him and he told them what had taken place. The rope could still be seen on his blood drenched arm; yet it had grown fast to it and surrounded it in the shape of a red ring of flesh.

Later that morning, dismissing all the fuss, and refusing any reward, Endre, anxious to resume his journey, quietly packed his belongings, then swung himself into his saddle and galloped into distance.

His heart was at peace, knowing that now that things had come to light, the husband and the villagers would effectively deal with the pesky, evil ghoul, if she dared, to ever try harming the innocent young woman again.  

The End

 

THE DRAGON OF LOSHY HILL

(A folklore retold by BoSt)

The Dragon of Loshy Hill or Nunnington dragon is a legendary beast from the folklore of Yorkshire, England.

This dragon had a terrible temper and a voracious(rapacious) appetite for meat; resultantly, wherever he went, he waylaid death and devastation in his path. Unfortunately, non of the numerous brave warriors and knights in the kingdom that had set out to destroy this bane (curse), had ever succeeded or returned alive. For this terrible dragon was known for having a deadly tongue with a poisonous lethal outcome and teeth that were reputed to be equal to the size of pitchfork prongs.

Peter Loschy was a handsome young warrior with long blond hair, blue-grey eyes, and a stunning (splendid, striking) physique (build, form, body). On his eighteenth birthday, this adventurous, heroic warrior, breaking many (girl’s) damsel’s hearts, set out on a quest to rid the kingdom, once and for all, of this terrible scourge. 

At the time of his departure, Peter’s reverent grandfather, quietly pulled him aside and presented him with a rare, an heirloom gift, one his grandfather had inherited long time ago but had never used, as he was an intellectual, a scholarly sort. These legendary blades plus the heirloom sword held a special significance, as they had had both been secretly fashioned (crafted) by capable silversmiths, from the metal meteorite that had long ago fallen to Earth.

Peter Loschy was ecstatic and remained speechless, understanding the true value of this gesture.

Short time later, armed with this advantage (wearing the suit of armour that was studded with sharp blades (vanes, fins) and brandishing his sword, the very picture of a legendary hero, he bid his farewells to his kinfolk and galloped his horse into the distance.

Peter stanchly (resolutely) sought and valiantly confronted the dreaded dragon; after a deadly bout (turn), the dragon getting the upper hand, at one point coiled around Peter, intending to finish him off. The mighty dragon unfortunately, instead, was cut to pieces by the especially durable blades; these serious lacerations (tears, gashes) caused the dragon intense pain.

Despite the foe dragon’s rising ire and consequential powerful strikes, Peter with agility, moreover, dealt the dragon two strategic stabs (thrust), the Loschy’s sword blade penetrating that hard outer shell of the dragon, to reach major organs. But the Nunnington dragon had the power of regeneration; and so, he kept repairing and reconnecting the severed parts, to become whole again.

Varying his strategy, Peter this time hacked away at dragon’s tongue, until it was mostly gone, and the dragon had finally expired. Each instance (whilst) Peter’s faithful hound had carried the pieces of the tongue to a hill about a mile away, this prevented any chance of its (tongue’s) regeneration.

It is said that the hound was so happy to serve his master that after completing the task he licked his master's face. Alas this served as an ill-omen for both of them, with the poison taking hold.

Both (Peter and his hound) are said to be buried in Nunnington Church.

Fin

 

THE CENTIPEDE AND THE DRAGON PRINCESS

(An Alternate Version of Rice-bag Toda (Tawara Toda)

 

Once upon a time a warrior called Fujiwara no Hidesato was crossing the Seta Bridge at Lake Biwa. Suddenly a monstrous serpent appeared and lay across the roadway just ahead of him.  The hero was not least bit perturbed and, shrugging his shoulders, calmly stepped over the giant snake and continued his way. No sooner had Fujiwara passed than the serpent slid into the lake only to reappear again a few feet in front of him in the form of a beautiful woman, blocking his way.

Sporting an enchanting smile, she bowed to him in formal greeting and said, “For two thousand years sir, it’s been my unfortunate fate to be kept away from my home, held prisoner under this bridge. In all that time, I have never seen such a courageous man as you. It is for that reason that I dare ask this favour.”  In a sorrowful voice she related her tragic story to the hero. She told him how once she’d been a Dragon Princess from a far away sea. Wanting to see more of the world, she had forsaken her safe home, snuck away and travelled far and wide. After many years, as she grew older and matured, she relented and wished to go back home but could no longer find her way no matter how hard she tried. Alone and forlorn, constrained to remain in human form, she had been fortunate enough to meet a brilliant scholar and married him.

For a time, they lived happily with their three children, but then one unfortunate day a monstrous centipede emerged from a valley beyond the ridge of hills and, having spotted her, abducted her and hid her in a cave where no one could find her. While she was captive, the centipede had gone back and murdered her loving husband and children. Claiming the region around their old home and the river as his own, he’d brought her back to that precise spot and, from that time on, condemned her to the life of a captive slave.

He used his power to endlessly torment her. She had made her home in the depths of the river, forsaking solid land as it had reminded her too much of what she had lost. Still, she could not attain any solace. She was forced to give him whenever he wanted each time, he came to call on her. She had been most miserable since then, powerless to escape the clutches of the trickster centipede. The few times she’d sought help from wandering warriors, or anyone courageous enough to be willing to help, it had ended disastrously. The monster, delighting in torture, had eaten each champion slowly and painfully in front of her.

“I have been most frank and now you know just what is at stake. Dare I hope for your help, for salvation from my nightmare?” She cupped her face in her hands and sobbed tragically. As he had not taken to his heels in fright and still hung about, she came to believe that he might be the one to save her and again implored the hero to do all he can to destroy the centipede and rescue her from this dire predicament.

Fujiwara was as compassionate as he was brave and he consented after only a very brief consideration. “Rest assured dear lady, I’ll do all I can within my power to help you.” he promised her. “Please go home to your place in the lake and await the results.”

That evening armed with a bow and arrow he planted his feet solidly in the centre of the bridge and waited patiently for the arrival of the centipede. It was a particularly cold night, cumulous clouds rode the sky, driven by strong winds that buffeted his sleeves and thrashed at his face. Often, they hid the moon’s rays, leaving him in pitch darkness. Adding an ominous choir to this dramatic scene were the continuous cries of the wild beasts.

Suddenly from the top of Mt. Mikami, following in the wake of a flash of lightning, two enormous lights burst into the black sky. The vast blinding light, resembling two hundred lit torches, had suddenly turned night into day. It took Hidesato only an instant to recognise the two beams of light as the centipede’s eyes.

Unafraid, Hidesato sightlessly launched three consecutive arrows directly at the blinding lights. Being a great marksman, he hit his mark, and the blinding lights were instantly snuffed out; the monster was no more.
The Dragon princess was overjoyed at the news of his decisive victory. Filled with gratitude, she invited Hidesato to be her guest for a time at her own Dragon abode. With her powers now at full capacity after the death of the centipede she was able to transform the simple dwelling into a palace more befitting a Dragon Princess. There she regaled him with music, tasty, delectable dishes and rewarded him with fine gifts: a roll of fine silk, a temple bell, a sword and armour, as well as a tawara bag of rice. She told him in no uncertain terms that these were magical items; that the silk roll, no matter how much he cut from it, would not diminish in size, nor would the bag of rice ever empty no matter how many scoops he took from it, and that the magic would last as long as he lived.
Hidesato returned home and lived comfortably till a ripe old age.  At one point, he did come to know how the Dragon Princess, with her continually growing powers, had eventually attained her ultimate goal of returning home. She was eventually reunited with her parents, who forgave her after learning of all that she’d gone through; she had married another dragon and they both lived happily ever after.

 Before the end of his life Hidesato saw fit to donate the bell to Mii-dera temple at Mount Hiei. Unfortunately, it was stolen by a priest from rival Enryaku-ji temple. When the bell spoke to the culprit priest, he took fright and threw the bell over a cliff and into a valley. The long drop and the landing on hard rock made a long crack appear in the side of the bell. Eventually when the cracked bell was returned to Mii-dera a small snake, perhaps an offspring of the Dragon Princess, used his tail to repair the damage. She was known to visit the lake from time to time, to pay homage to her late human husband and deceased children, whom she’d never forgotten.
 

Note: In another version of the story, set during the Genpei War, when Hidesato encounters the Dragon Snake on the bridge it is transformed, instead of a beautiful woman, into a “strange small man” instead, who was none other than the Dragon King himself. There is a Shinto shrine near the Seta Bridge at Lake Biwa where, even to date, people worship Tawara Toda, “Rice-bag Toda”.

 

 

 THE THREE EVILS (REVISED)

(A Chinese Folktale re-written by BoSt)

 Once upon a time, there lived an eccentric young man by the name of Dschou Tschu. He wore a high hat on his head adorned with two pheasants’ wings; his garments were woven of embroidered silk, and at his side hung the Dragon-spring sword.  He had a wild and mischievous nature which became far worse when he was inebriated. He always intruded into other's business and any ongoing disputes; meanwhile, wherever he went his pranks and tomfoolery, as well, his inclination to forcefully take that which belonged to others, beget or fostered quarrels and brawls. He was hence, furtively detested throughout the neighborhood and whoever offended him had good reason to dread the ensued terrible consequences. As he was blessed with an extraordinary super-human strength however, the law enforcement officers and the village elders dared not rebuke (reprimand, admonish) or punish him seriously. And so, he’d persisted with his unruly ways for many a year.

Eventually a new Official was posted to that district; before the new magistrate formally took up office however, surreptitiously (covertly and under disguise) he first went about the countryside and listened to the citizen’s complaints. They in unison told him that there were three great evils in that district.

The magistrate still under disguise, decided to in person call on Dschou Tschu.

Late that night when most decent folks were fast asleep, the inebriated Dschou Tschu returned from the tavern, along the way slapping his sword and singing in a loud voice.

When he reached his house he noted the man with his head down seated by the door and asked: “Who are you; why are you weeping here so pitifully?”

The magistrate raised his head and glaring at Dschou, replied: “I am weeping because of the people’s distress.”

Dschou Tschu grimaced then threw his head back and guffawed.

“You are mistaken, my friend,” said he. “Revolt is seething round about us like boiling water in a kettle. But here, in our little corner of the land, all is quiet and peaceful. The harvest has been abundant, corn is plentiful, and all go happily about their work. When you talk to me about distress I have to think of the man who groans without being sick. And who are you, tell me that, which instead of grieving for yourself, are grieving for others? And what are you doing loitering at my door in this ungodly hour?”

“I am the new Magistrate,” replied the other. “Since I left my litter I have been looking about in the neighborhood. I find the people are honest and simple in their way of life, and everyone has sufficient to wear and to eat. This is all just as you state. Yet, strange to say, when the elders come together, they always sigh and complain. And if they are asked why, they answer: ‘There are three great evils in our district!’ I have come to ask you to do away with two of them, as to the third… perhaps I had better remain silent. And this is the reason I weep before your door.”

“Well, what are these evils?” enquired Dschou Tschu. “Speak freely, and tell me openly all that you know!”

“The first evil,” said the Magistrate “is the evil dragon at the long bridge, which causes the water to rise so that man and beast are drowned in the river.

The second evil is the voracious, predatory tiger with the white forehead, which dwells in the hills.

And the third evil, Dschou Tschu—is you!”

The crimson hue, the blush of shame swiftly infused the young man’s cheeks, and he bowed and said: “You have come here from afar to be the Magistrate of this district, and yet you feel such sympathy for the people? I was born in this place and yet I have only made our elders grieve. What sort of a creature must I be? I beg that you return to your residence; fear not, I will see to it that matters improve!”

Dschou Tschu at once took off and ran all the way without stopping till he reached the hills. There he hunted the tiger out of his cave. The latter leaped into the air so that the whole forest was shaken as though by a storm. Next he came rushing up, roaring, and stretching out his claws savagely to seize his pray. Dschou nimbly stepped back a pace, and the tiger landed on the ground directly in front of him. Then he thrust the tiger’s neck to the ground with his left hand, and beat him without stopping with his right, until he lay dead on the earth. Dschou loaded the tiger on his back and went straight home.

Dschou Tschu subsequently went to the long bridge. He undressed, took his sword in his hand, and thus dived into the icy water. No sooner had he disappeared, than there was a boiling and hissing, and the waves began to foam and billow. It sounded like the mad beating of thousands of hoofs. After a time a stream of blood shot up from the depths, and the water of the river turned red. Eventually triumphant Dschou, holding the dragon’s decapitated head in his hand, rose out of the waves.

He went to the Magistrate and reported, with a bow: “I have cut off the Dragon’s head and have also done away with the Tiger. Thus I have happily accomplished your two commands. And now I shall wander away so that you may be rid of the third evil as well. My Lord, please keep watch over my countrymen and, relay to the elders that they need sorrow no more!”

When he had said this he enlisted as a soldier. In combat against the robbers he gained a great reputation and once, when the latter were pressing him hard, and he saw that he could not save himself, he bowed to the East and said: “The day has come at last when I can atone for my sin with my life!” Then he offered his neck to the sword and died.

Fin