OUTWITTING THE DRAGON LONGZE (STORY BY BOST, 2026- PART 1)

John had lost both his parents, due to a freak accident, a runaway carriage, at the tender age of six. His innate nature was willful and stubborn; and so, after his daring escape from the oppressive, state-orphanage, he’d pretty much grown up in the streets, relying solely on his own wits.  Barely nine years old, John had then attached himself to an old, excentric blacksmith that lived at the edge of town, and as his apprentice, he’d hence acquired a useful skill. After his mentor the blacksmith had passed away, John wanting to see the world, had travelled on foot, from place to place, eventually settling in a small border town, earning a meagre living, doing whatever jobs needed doing.

01- JOHN THE BLACKSMITH (7)JP

John celebrated his seventeenth birthday, by treating himself to a cold draft, for the first time ever, at the local tavern.  The proprietor had cast him a cautionary look but took his coin and provided him with the local draft without saying another word. He had sat in the dark corner and quietly sipped, savoring the brew, as this was his right of passage, while his eyes stealthily scanned the room for any potential danger. He always kept his vigil, never trusting anyone; however now that he was in his late teens, his strong athletic physique and stalwart (fearless, valiant) bearing and unfriendly demeanor, deterred most ruffians (thugs, hoodlums) from approaching or targeting him. He had long straight white-blond hair, brilliant blue eyes and was most fair to look at; some might even consider him quite handsome. He’d been smitten with a local farm girl, at the outskirts of town, and that was the reason he’d extended his stay within this region.

There happened to be an old, old castle at the edge of town perched on a hilltop by the fast-flowing river. The castle had been abandoned long ago by the original owner Lord Densel Keroy, whose family had once lived there, for untold generations. After the Lord’s wife’s sudden death, he’d married a mysterious woman, some thought she was a witch, and from thence, things had taken a turn for the worse. One after the other, Lord’s three offsprings, close relations and then the extended members (kinfolk) had all, through succumbing to accidents, bad luck, illness or pestilence, perished. No one knew what’d became of the Lord or the reminder of his family; they had simply, one stormy night, under cover of darkness boarded the moored vassal (river boat) and sailed down the river. They were never seen or heard from ever again; moreover, for unknown reasons, Lord’s name or any reference of him, thereafter, had all been erased (wiped out) from the historical records (this included the town’s genealogy’ books). Deemed a cursed place, the once magnificent castle (along with its manicured grounds sporting fountains and statues and exotic trees and flowers) meanwhile, was simply abandoned and left to rot (decay, deteriorate).

02- ABANDONED CASTLE IN RUINS (3)jp

No one went near this old castle, save for John. The castle was by then so decrepit that most of its walls and towers and turrets and gateways and arches, some overgrown by ivy, lay crumbled or in ruins; a comparatively small segment (of the east wing) had remained intact, as a reminder of its once old splendor. John, unfazed by the supposed, curse and the ghostly hauntings (roaming), however, had noted the advantage to be had here; he saw, for instance, that there were two perfectly habitable, almost cozy rooms, within this sector, that was perfectly adequate for his immediate needs. And so, it was here, that John the blacksmith had set up his forge.

John the blacksmith, soon as he’d turned nineteen, had of course married his sweetheart Betty and his deep love and devotion for his beloved had never once wavered (faltered), despite some marital difficulties. She’d been spoiled by her father and had little understanding of the economics of life. Nevertheless, eight months prior, she’d born to him, a lively little baby boy, which he absolutely adored.

Recently, because of some unavoidable setbacks- first was the fire that had gutted their old home, then afterwards, his wife had succumbed to robbery, loosing all their savings- this unfortunately, had left John at present in dire straits; therefore, lacking the adequate funds for  a proper dwelling, he’d of course considered the dilapidated castle, especially since the two perfectly good rooms were rent-free.  So here John blew his bellows and hammered his iron and did all the work which came his way. This was not much, because most of the trade went to the mayor of the town, who was also a blacksmith in quite a large way of business, and had his huge forge facing the square of the town.

03- THE MAYOR  MARCELL

The mayor Marcell employed twelve apprentices, all hammering like a nest of woodpeckers, and four supervisors (controllers, overseers) to order the apprentices about; he had a patent forge and a self-acting hammer, the mechanical (automated) bellows, and many more spiffy things, all handsome about him. So of course, the townspeople, whenever they wanted a horse shod or a shaft mended, went to the mayor.

John the blacksmith, meanwhile, struggled on as best he could, with a few odd jobs from travelers and strangers who did not know what a superior forge the mayor's was. The two rooms John and Betty had occupied, were warm and weather-tight, but not very large; so, the blacksmith John got into the way of keeping his old iron, his odds and ends, his fagots, and his two pence worth of coal in the great dungeon down under the castle. It was a very fine dungeon indeed, with a handsome vaulted roof and big iron rings whose staples were built into the wall, very strong and convenient for tying captives to, and at one end was a broken flight of wide steps leading down no one knew where. Even the lords of the castle in the good old times had never known where those steps led to, but every now and then they would kick a prisoner down the steps in their lighthearted, hopeful way, and sure enough, the prisoners never came back. The blacksmith John, brave as he was, had not the occasion to go beyond the seventh step, so he did not know or cared to know, what was at the bottom of those stairs.

04- BETTY  (28)JP

Beknows to John, when his wife was not doing the housework or nursing the baby, she would pensively sit on the steps or quietly shed some tears, for she was secretly very unhappy. She often ruminated on the happy, carefree days of old when she lived with her father in a stately (splendid) two-story farmhouse, in relative comfort and luxury, in the pristine setting of the countryside. She had two personal servants then tending to all the household chores and her, fulfilling her every whim. Additionally, they had seasonal workers that harvested the fields, they had three dozen sheep and, seventeen cows.

Then one day, while gathering wildflowers in the field, she’d chanced on John; he was so handsome, so dashing a young man, she had immediately been quite taken with him.  Young and reckless, they had married soon after. She with a wry smile on her lips recollected now, sitting quietly by the window, the time John used to come courting her in the summer evenings, as smart as could be, with a posy fastened in his jacket’s buttonhole. And now, her father had passed away, and John’s hair had lost its lustre (sheen); and though they’d survived many hardships, recently fairing worse, there’d been hardly ever enough to eat.

As for the baby, it cried a good deal at odd times but particularly at night; often, when Betty had settled down to sleep, it would always begin to cry, quite as a matter of course, so that she hardly got any rest at all. This made her very tired. The baby could make up for its bad nights during the day if it liked, but poor Betty couldn't. So, whenever she had nothing to do, she used to idly sit and cry, because she was tired out with work and worry.

05-JOHN THE BLACKSMITH (11)jp

One evening the blacksmith John was busy with his forge. He was making a goat-shoe for the goat of a very rich lady, who wished to see how the goat liked being shod, and also whether the shoe would come to fivepence or sevenpence before she ordered the whole set. This was the only order John had had that week. And as he worked his wife Betty sat and nursed the baby, who, for a wonder, was not crying.

Presently, over the noise of the bellows and over the clank of the iron, there came another sound. The blacksmith and his wife looked at each other.

"I heard nothing," said he.

"Neither did I," said she.

But the noise grew louder—and the two were so anxious not to hear it that he hammered away at the goat-shoe harder than he had ever hammered in his life, and she began to sing to the baby—a thing she had not had the heart to do for weeks.

But through the blowing and hammering and singing the noise came louder and louder, and the more they tried not to hear it, the more they had to. It was like the noise of some great creature purring, purring, purring—and the reason they did not want to believe they really heard it was that it came from the great dungeon down below, where the old iron was, and the firewood and the two pence worth of coal, and the broken steps that went down into the dark and ended no one knew where.

"It can't be anything in the dungeon," said the blacksmith John and smiled reassuringly, then using the small strip of cloth he wiped the sweat off his face. "Besides, I shall investigate it proper, when I have to go down there anyway, to fetch more coals in a minute."

"There isn't anything there, of course. How could there be? But you will still be careful, won’t you dear?" said his wife concealing her trepidation (anxiety, unease). And they, being so considerate (and loving) of each other, tried so very hard to reassure the other, that both very nearly did believe it.

Then John took his shovel in one hand and his riveting hammer in the other and hung the old stable lantern on his little finger and went down to get the coals.

"I am not taking the hammer because I think there is something there," said he, "but it is handy for breaking the large lumps of coal."

"I quite understand," said his wife Betty, who had brought the coal home in her apron that very afternoon, and knew that it was all coal dust.

So, John went down the winding stairs to the dungeon and stood at the bottom of the steps, holding the lantern above his head just to see that the dungeon really was empty, as usual. Half of it was indeed empty, except for the old iron and odds and ends, and the firewood and the coals. But the other side was not empty. It was quite full, and what it was full of was Dragon.

06 - DRAGON LONGZE - JP

"It must have come up those nasty broken steps from goodness knows where," said John to himself, with a frown on his lip, as he tried to creep back up the winding stairs. Facing this unexpected danger, his anxious thoughts had been more about the safety and welfare of his wife and child.

But the dragon Longze was too quick for him—it put out a mighty big claw and caught him by the leg, and as it moved it rattled like a great bunch of keys, or like the sheet iron they make thunder out of in pantomimes.

"No, you don't," said the dragon in a grumbling voice that revibrated in the air.

"I beg your pardon," said John, stockily, “I meant you, no disrespect.”  His fearless eyes looked straight at the Dragon, though he was helplessly trapped under the claw of the dragon. Truth be known, he was inwardly awed, staring at this magnificent creature; he’d never seen a dragon before, he’d always been told that they had long been extinct. Subsequently, John shrugged his shoulders, resigned to his fate, and mumbled:  "Alas, here's a nice end for a respectable blacksmith!"

07-DRAGON LONGZE (3)JP

The dragon Longze seemed very much struck by this remark.

"Do you mind saying that again?" said he, quite politely.

So, John said again, very distinctly: "Here—is—a—nice—end—for—a—respectable—blacksmith."

"I didn't know," said the dragon. "Fancy now! You're the very man I wanted."

"I’m at your disposal." John refused to beg for mercy and so had boldly ejected: “Go ahead, incinerate me.” He’d secretly hoped, that after his demise, the dragon would then go back satisfied, to whence he came from, and that his wife and child be safe.

"Oh, I didn't mean that.”  said the dragon Longze, "Though, I should like you to do a job for me. One of my wings has got some of the rivets out of it just above the joint. Could you put that to rights?"

John exhaled in relief and said, “I might, sir," rather politely, for he always was polite to any potential customer, even if he be a dragon.

"A master craftsman—you are a master, of course? —can see in a minute what's wrong," the dragon went on. "Just come around here and feel my plates, will you?"

John tentatively (timidly, cautiously) went around when the dragon took his claw away; and sure enough, there was a part where the dragon's wing was hanging loose, and several of the plates near the joint certainly wanted riveting.

The dragon Longze seemed to be made almost entirely of iron armor—a sort of thin strip of rust color beneath the blue-silver plates, it was from damp, no doubt—and under it he seemed to be covered with something furry.

All the blacksmith welled up in John's heart, and he felt more at ease.

08-JOHN THE BLACKSMITH (14)jp

"You could certainly do with a rivet or two, sir," said he. "In fact, you want a good many."

"Well, get to work, then," said the dragon. Longze could not detect any usual nuance (tone) of prejudice in John’s vernacular, nor could he sense the typical, intense fear in latter’s heart; therefore, rather intrigued by this unique individual and wanting to experience more of his mettle (valour, bravery), plus, unable to resist intimidating him, Dragon Longze said: "You mend my wing, and then I'll go out and eat up all the townsfolk, and if you make a really smart job of it, I'll eat you last. There!"

"I don't want to be eaten last, sir," said John.

"Well then, I'll eat you first," said dragon Longze.

"I don't want that, sir, either," said John.

"Go on with you, you silly man," scoffed the dragon, "you don't know your own silly mind. Come, set to work."

John drew closer- gave the dragon a bit of a nip or a dig under his rivets—took note of the damage…assess what it would take to fix it … fire and smoke. Then he hesitated; he seemed to be rather ambivalent (indecisive) about his next move.

"I prefer not to tackle (handle) this job, sir," finally John ejected, "and that's the truth. I know how easily accidents could happen… Then you’ll blame me, suspecting me of being deliberately malicious.”

"You may carry on without fear; I will not harm you even if you cause me hurt. “Dragon Longze, noting the blacksmith’s lingering qualms, assured John. “I’ll take all that you said under advisement; now, if you please delay no more, rivet me, and I'll eat you last”. Longze was inwardly laughing up a storm, noting the flicker of terror and calculation simultaneously registering in those human eyeballs (cornea, orbs); subsequently, all of it immediately being replaced with the stubborn, defiant fervour (commitment, zeal).

"I know you wouldn't do it on purpose, sir," said John pensively, "but any gentleman will give a jump and a sniff if he's nipped, and one of your sniffs would be enough for me. Now, if you'd just let me fasten you up?"

09-DRAGON LONGZE (20)jp

“You are way too brazen; I give you that! " The Dragon Longze silently derided; then looking straight at John, outwardly objected: “But that would be so undignified."

"We always fasten a horse up," said John, "and he's the 'noble animal.”

"It's all very well," said the dragon, "but how do I know you'd untie me again when you'd riveted me? Give me something in pledge. What do you value most?"

"My hammer," said John. "A blacksmith is nothing without a hammer."

"But you'd want that for riveting me. You must think of something else, and at once, or I'll eat you first."

At this moment the baby in the room above began to cry. Its mother had been so quiet that it thought she had settled down for the night, and that it was time to begin.

"Whatever's that?" said the dragon, starting so that every plate on his body rattled.

"It's only the baby," said John.

"What's that?" asked dragon Lonze. "Something you value?"

"Well, yes, sir, rather," said the blacksmith John, trying his best to conceal his rising inner dread. He’d so hoped the baby would for once sleep peacefully through it all, and the Dragon would not be aware of their (his wife and son’s) existence.

"Then bring it here," said the dragon, "he’ll be an apt collateral (guarantee); you shall tie me up, I’ll keep an eye on it, till you've done riveting me."

"All right, sir," John reluctantly acceded, "but I ought to warn you… Babies are poison to dragons, so I don't deceive you. It's all right to touch—but don't you go putting it into your mouth. I shouldn't like to see any harm come to you."

The dragon was beginning to lose patience; he inwardly scoffed: “Likely story; you think me so ignorant? But to reassure you, hmm, very well, I’ll simply play along.”

The dragon Longze condescendingly purred and said: "All right, I'll be careful. Now go and fetch the thing, whatever it is."

So, John ran up the steps as quickly as he could, for he knew that if the dragon got impatient before it was fastened, it could heave up the roof of the dungeon with one lurch (motion, toss, heave) of its back and kill them all in the ruins.

Upstairs he found his wife with eyelids closed and in deep slumber, curled up in a ball, lying in bed besides the baby; for despite the baby's cries, she’d been so utterly spent with all that worry that sleep had abruptly claimed her. His sad eyes for a short spell lingering on Betty, John then leaned forward and gently picked up his son. The baby affectionately cradled in his arms, John hastened back to the dungeon and, showing great faith in the creature, he then gingerly placed his precious boy in front of the dragon's front paws.

11- JOHN'S BABY BOY PLACED IN FRONT OF lONGZE.

"You just purr to it, sir," he said, "and it'll be as good as gold."

So, the dragon Longze did just that, and his purring pleased the baby so much that he actually ceased (discontinued, stopped) his crying.

 

(END OF PART ONE- THE STORY CONCLUDES IN PART TWO)

 

                                                                                        ~

STORY OF DARKNESS (BY BOST, 2025)

Many cultures have a creation myth; it so happens that Chinese culture has incorporated the dragons in their creation myths.

How wonderful is that?

01- LONGZE READS THE CREATION  STORY OF DARKNESS

A Brief History:

The Book “Epic of Darkness”, compiled in primeval China, is a collection of folklore and legend relayed in epic poetry. Preserved by the inhabitants of the Shennongjia mountain area in Hubei Province, it includes accounts from the birth of Pangu till the historical era.

In August 1982 an old local farmer submitted a rare songbook to Hu Chongjun. The booklet (leaflet), written in brush and ink with about 3,000 lines of seven Chinese characters each, was split into four sections. These sections were: a) The beginnings of the Universe; b) The Birth of Pangu; c) The Great Flood; d) The birth of mankind up until the beginnings of the Three Sovereigns and The Five Emperors. Believing “The Epic of Darkness” to be finest written representation of the oral Han creation myth, Hu went on to study and compile more manuscripts as well as the oral accounts from the elderly living in Shennongjia. It took him 9 years to eventually finish the documentation. Hu had to sort through more than 30, 000 lines of collected manuscript to compile a 5,500-line summary.

 

Here’s a brief retelling (with some liberties taken) of the Han Chinese creation myth:

In the beginning of time, all that was manifest was a cloud of gas, chaos and darkness. A Deity called Jiang Ku, after expending vast effort, created the first drop of water. Another God, Lang Da Zi, swallowed that drop of water and expired. Immediately his body was split into the five elements: Metal, Wood, Water, Fire and Earth. From these elements Pan Gu came into being.

02- PAN GU

The Legend of Pan Gu:

In the primeval Universe there was nothing but a vast formless chaos which, after 18,000 years, merged to form a giant cosmic egg. Inside the egg, the perfectly opposed principles of Yin and Yang eventually balanced, and Pan Gu formed as a primitive, horned, hairy giant, clad in furs. As soon as he emerged from the egg Pan Gu set about the task of creating the world. With a swing of his giant axe, he separated the Yin from the Yang and created the Earth (murky Yin) and the Sky (clear Yang). In order to maintain this separation, Pan Gu stood between them and pushed up the Sky. This task took another 18,000 years; as each day the sky grew ten feet (three meters) higher, the Earth ten feet wider and Pan Gu ten feet taller.

03 - THE CREATION

Pan Gu was aided in this task by the four most prominent beasts: the Turtle, the Qilin, the Phoenix, and of course, the Dragon. After the 18,000 years it took to separate earth and sky Pan Gu passed away. His breath then became the wind; his voice became thunder, his left eye transformed into Sun, his right eye transformed into the Moon and his facial hair turned into brilliant stars and the Milky Way.

His body, his four limbs turned into the mountains and other of the extremities that marked the four corners of the world. (This account bears a strange similarity to Norse myth of the Giant Ymir, and also of the Babylonian tale of Tiamat.) His fur turned into bushes and forests; his blood formed the rivers; his muscles turned into fertile lands; his teeth and nails became metals; his bones became rocks and valuable minerals while his bone marrow transformed into sacred diamonds. Mankind was yet to be created at this point. His sweat fell as rain and the fleas on his fur carried by the wind became the fish and animals throughout the land.

From the five elements and animals were born demons and gods who fought each other until a great flood overcame the land. From this great flood, emerged two mighty dragons, one black and one yellow, which fought a mighty battle.

04- BLACK AND YELLOW DRAGON FIGHT

A goddess, the Sacred Mother Wu Tien, helped the yellow dragon defeat the black dragon. In gratitude, the yellow dragon laid three eggs which the Sacred Mother swallowed and gave birth to three gods: Heaven, Earth and Hell.

Later still, five dragons emerged from the flood, and they discovered a gourd across the Eastern Sea. Wu Tien opened the Gourd and found two humans within. Fuxi and Nuwa, who were ordered by Wu Tien to copulate and thus the human race came into being after the flood waters receded.

05- THE GOURD

In a different version it states: A brother and sister became the only survivors of the prehistoric Deluge by crouching in a gourd that floated on water. The two got married afterwards, and a mass of flesh in shape of a whetstone was born. They chopped it and the pieces turned into large crowds of people, who began to reproduce again. The couple were named “Pan” and “Gou” in the Zhuang ethnic language which stands for whetstone and gourd respectively.

In another version:  Nuwa, the Goddess, supposedly had used the mud of the waterbed to form the shape of humans. These humans were very smart since they were individually crafted. Nuwa then became bored of individually making every human, so she started putting a rope in the waterbed and letting the drops of mud that fell from it become new humans. These small drops became new humans, not as smart at the first.

06 CREATION OF NEW HUMANS

Another interesting note:

When the earth had thus been shaped from the body of Pan Gu, ostensibly the three great rivers formed from his blood, then successively governed the world: as first the celestial, then the terrestrial, and finally the human sovereign.

They were followed by Yung-Ch’eng and Sui-Jen (fireman) who brought the fire down from heaven and taught man its various uses. The Prometheus myth, which by the way is not indigenous to Greece but also known in Mesopotamia and India, is another expression of this theme. There is a slight possibility therefore that the figure Sui-Jen has been derived from the same archetype as the Greek Prometheus.

 

Fin 

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