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myhauntedsalem · 5 months

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13 Terrifying True Tales of Abandoned Asylums and Hospitals

Could there be anything more nightmare-inducing than an abandoned lunatic asylum? Not really. Haunted hospitals and insane asylum stories are the stuff of legends, often places of trauma and death it’s hardly surprising when they become a source for a ghostly tale or two.

Here are 13 frightening ghost stories of abandoned asylums and hospitals as shared by urban explorers and security guards

1. The Old Operating Room

Abandoned hospital in my town is very active. It was also used in the movie Bone Yard. When they blew the hospital up in the movie apparently they actually burned some of it. So they abandoned it completely. Still have tables, desks, chairs, boxes and boxes of files. Not sure if half of the sightings are squatters or paranormal but friend of mine snuck in and had a series of lights turning off and on that lead him (and his friends) to an operation room. The light turned off and they panicked and ran out. They also had batteries drained and could only make out the light outside through the roof access hatch they used.

Also had a co-worker who worked at a renovated sanatorium turned tree farm. The basement had screams and grabbings. Still had an attendance board where the old nurses still signed in for duty even though there wasn’t any chalk. Some other things, that I cannot remember, happened that led him to quit.

2. 911 Calls

I’m a nurse that worked at a psychiatric hospital for five years. That place was haunted as shit. Police would call us in the middle of the night saying some little girl who identified herself as Satana was calling 911 from a certain extension in the hospital.

That extension? The arts and crafts room. Nobody goes there at night. Nobody. I assure you. Yet there’s obviously something there. And it calls 911 a lot.

Lots of other stories from that place but that’s the craziest, creepiest one.

3. The Power Was Still On

When I was a teenager (20+ years ago) my friends and I trespassed on a condemned insane asylum called Eloise in Southeastern Michigan.

The worst thing wasn’t that it was at night with shitty flashlights, the dirty patient records scattered on the floor, the broken furniture, the torn up walls, the leaking water pipes or the huge fungal bloom from the leaking water. The worst part was finding a tunnel and following it to a place inside where power was still on. There was a light, an ominous looking double doors and an active security camera.

It was like why is this here? What’s going on?

Later on, I found out that the asylum and a nearby hospital were connected. However, the wikipedia page says it closed in 1984 but we were there several years after that.

I think I saved one of the patient records somewhere.

4. The Footsteps Above

I was the night watchman at an abandoned mental hospital turned state park for a summer in college. The only creepy thing that happened was one night I was with one of the state park police and we saw flashlights in one of the buildings. Kids constantly broke in and other people broke in to gut the old buildings of any copper they could find.

So as I was saying one night we saw flashlights moving around so we went in. The officer pulled her gun and flashlight and in we went. We could her footsteps on the floor above us and we slowly and quietly went upstairs. We checked every room and found nothing. Then we heard footsteps above us again. This happened for a few floors until we were on the top floor below the roof. We heard footsteps up on the roof so we went up there. Still nothing. We never found anyone or any indication that anyone had been there. It was friggin creepy.

5. Things Moved In The Night

There is this abandoned mental hospital in my town called Prudhoe hospital which is sort of the scary place kids go to show bravado. It’s surrounded by woods so obviously you hear lots about it.

You hear lots of stories from people after it was abandoned but the spookiest things come from when it was still in service.

My mam worked at an auxiliary nurse there for years and she said at night the crippled kids who couldn’t move due to severe diseases and birth defects would somehow get out of there cribs and into the middle of the floor on the wards. Whatever was doing this would also go around and remove blankets from all the patients and again pile them in the center of the room.

Eventually security was hired believing it was someone getting into the hospital at night and doing all these things to scare people or to just be trouble.

However even with security they never found out who was doing these things at night.

6. The Praying Nun

My dad worked at a mental hospital that used to be connected to an abandoned nun’s home by underground passage. He says that one night he was walking down there when he saw a praying nun. He walked by her and said hello. She did not acknowledge him.

My dad does not believe in ghosts but he says there was a nun down there that night.

7. The Séance

I had a guy I worked with who used to be a hospital wardsman. He was telling me about a night where a few young nurses and some of the other wardsmen were going to hang around late one night and conduct a seance in one of the older unused wards.

Anyway, he agreed and one night they did it. He didn’t believe a word of it but took part for fun. He said they called through one spirit who identified himself as ‘Nigel’ and when asked if he was good or evil the planchette flicked straight to evil. At this stage my mate assumed people were pushing it and just laughed it off. After some more unintelligible responses the planchette started going ballistic, flicking from one letter to the next. Someone asked the scribe what it was saying and this guy goes ‘I can’t make it out….errrr hang on it’s saying ‘KILLBABYCASSYKILLBABYCASSYKILL??? Is it saying Cassy Kill Baby?’ One of the female nurses ran screaming and absolutely lost it, one of the girls running to help her.

Turns out this girl was named Cassy and she had had a secret abortion two weeks prior. She had told no one about the pregnancy, not even her boyfriend.

8. The Late Night Walk

A few years ago my cousin and his friends were walking in the woods outside of Fredrick and found an old abandoned Insane Asylum. It was all boarded up, grown over, dark, dusty; it looked like it was out of a movie.

Obviously my cousin and his friends broke in to look around.

The first room they went into was full of file cabinets holdings records of all the patients that used to be there, and they found a bunch of really creepy ass pictures. Another room was nothing but concrete and drains on the floor. The walls had chains attached to them, and in the center of the room was a table that had what looked like torture tools and beating sticks. Other than that they didn’t really see anything but they claim to have heard talking, footsteps, and demented giggling.

9. The Little Boy

I work night shift as a CNA in a hospital. I had a patient last year. He was in his 50s, totally with it. I had him for a week or two and never showed signs of confusion at night or otherwise. He liked to keep his door open at all times and he was in a room close to the nurse’s station, so he saw myself and plenty other staff walk by throughout the night.

One night, around 2:30 in the morning, he sees me walking by and calls me into his room.

“Is that your son or something”?

“Who”?, I asked.

“The little boy that’s been following you all night”.

I proceeded to ask what he looked like, because I could not see him. He said he looked to be about 7 years old, with short, dark hair and a baseball cap. Both of us were freaked out about the situation and he requested to keep his lights on after that.

I’m getting chills thinking about it now

10. What was running around with us in that asylum?

It was about 16 years ago (I’m old now haha), when I lived in Topeka, Kansas. Now some of you will know what I’ll be talking about already, but for those of you who don’t, keep reading. I was a keen urban explorer, there was just something thrilling about breaking into abandoned buildings and exploring them. I had always known about the Topeka State Hospital due to the numerous ‘haunted’ stories around it, but I had never really thought about exploring it. My friend of mine, Reece, was also an avid urban explorer, and one night he suggested to me that we go check it out at night. Not believing in ghosts or scary stories as such, I instantly agreed to go. We got our bags ready with torches, phones and a snack or two (you have to travel light) and waited for sunset.

On arriving it was already pitch black, there were no lights as the place had been closed since 1990, so we flipped on our torches and crunched our way up the gravel to the front entrance. It was locked, as we expected, so we made our way around the red bricked exterior, looking for a way in. About halfway around, we came across a boarded up window. I offered Reece a parting glance and a slight nod of his head indicated we were thinking along the same idea. I braced my shoulder and bashed into the window. The sound echoed around the empty halls and the surrounding forest for what seemed ages. A second bash proved successful as the wood splintered and fell to the ground in a large bang. Reece whispered in my ear ‘honestly if nobody comes after us after that then we’re safe’.

I climbed in through the small gap, before lending a hand to Reece to do the same. Once we were inside, we flipped on our torches and were met with a view of peeling wallpaper and a heavy, musty smell. We crunched our way through the first room, just enjoying the rush of adrenaline as we tiptoed our way through the halls before we heard footsteps running in the room above us. Immediately my heart skipped a beat and I glanced at Reece who put up his finger to his lips and indicated that we should turn our torches off. In the pitch black, I must admit I started getting scared, but I carried on and we made our way up to the second floor to see who was with us in the house. After three minutes of looking, we turned up empty and were about to leave when we heard more footsteps running, and this time we were sure that we weren’t just hearing things as a light rain of dust fell from the room. We immediately thought we were being pranked, so we ran up to the third floor in hope to catch this person. But once again, it turned up empty. We had had enough and just started going down when we heard a door creak from above. This was it, our chance; we sprinted up, barged though the door and we ended up on the roof of the Asylum. Empty. Just then we heard a door being slammed from the floor beneath us and some guttural whispering noise.

11. She Was Right Behind Me

A friend of mine was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis and was so upset over it that she made a suicide attempt. She landed in the mental health wing of the big hospital and I went to visit her one evening. Had a hell of a time finding the right place and felt like I’d walked through miles of increasingly decrepit hospital before I found the right wing. Went through a set of double doors and found myself staring down a dimly lit hallway with an incredibly creepy, weathered-looking old lady in a housecoat standing right in the middle of it.

I walked down the hallway nervously, not taking my eyes off of the old woman. She didn’t take her eyes off me, either. I flinched as I walked by her, but she didn’t move. Ten feet beyond her was the doorway to the waiting room of the ward I was looking for. I breathed a sigh of relief as I reached the doors, then glanced over my shoulder to see if the woman had moved.

She was right behind me, staring into my face. I don’t know how she managed to silently cover that ten feet just as fast as I had moved, but she did.

12. The Night Shift

A few years back, prior to sworn LEO, I worked as a Security Guard at a hospital. Sounds cool and it was, except for the fact it was 9pm to 7am, I worked alone and the hospital I guarded was abandoned.

A year prior, the hospital built a brand new facility to replace their five story tall, 1900’s building. When the employees and patients left, they left everything in place. It looked like the people just disappeared in a hurry. Partially full coffee mugs, uniforms hanging on coat racks, wheelchairs in the halls, everything as it was, with a good coating of dust.

I was always a 3rd shift kind of person, I don’t get night ‘jitters’ or scare easily. But this place could do it to the best of em. Every night I would walk (or ride a wheelchair) through the halls that were supposed to be empty/unused. Every night I would end up having to close doors and re-lock them. I would walk one floor, move up to the next, and continue on.

I got a little shaky when an hour after already walking a hallway, I would have to turn off the same hall lights and close the same doors AGAIN in the building. Or when I would be walking a hall and then I would hear footsteps on the floor above me, doors opening and closing, elevators moving from floor to floor, phones ringing, nurse call lights going on, etc.

There were only 3 times I got the “I hate this sh*t” feeling. 1st time I was checking offices on the 4th floor. There was a light on in a locked hallway (no surprise). This hallway hadn’t been renovated since the place was built, short of electricity, so everything was from the 1920’s. Unlock the door, flip the lights, walk out, re-lock the door, and turn to leave. Behind me I hear the “flip” of a light switch. Through the frosted glass I see the lights went back on. I left the hallway alone that night.

2nd time was riding an elevator between floors. I was taking the elevator to the top floor, when at about #4 of #5 floors, I hear laughing and muffled talking. It kept getting louder as it got higher. Elevator makes it to #5, doors swing open, and absolute silence. Of course, every light was on on the floor, even in the patient rooms. I checked high and low, not a single living and breathing person in that place except for me.

3rd, and worst of all, was just an average night. I’m on the lower level locking a door in a corridor. The door had a glass middle but on the backside it was covered by white tape. The room it led to it was dark and the hallway a few feet behind me was partially lit, so the glass acted like a perfect mirror. Everything normal, key in, lock clicks, turning the key. When behind me I see the full outline of a person walk past me in the hallway. Clear as day, just a full shadow of a person walk past. I froze only for about a second, and then ran into the hall after the supposed ‘person’. No one, just silence.

Awesome gig, but after a year it felt like I should’ve been an exorcist with all this stuff happening. The other guards that worked on the days opposite to mine had the same stuff happen, except they always saw nuns walking into rooms just outside of an old rectory/chapel on the 3rd floor. Better nuns than something else I guess.

13. The Ambulance

One fall afternoon a buddy of mine and I decided to visit a massive abandoned mental hospital to take some photos. We’re talking 11 wards of two floors and a basement all connected from ward to ward. In total it must be 200-300 linear yards of winding connecting hallways on each floor. You get in and see open cell after cell after cell, peeling paint and graffiti all over the walls. We check the basement, walk through the majority of the wards and are now at ward 8.

We got there early in the afternoon maybe around 2 or 3 because we were too pansy to go at night. Mind you, we’ve heard there are cult gatherings and people have been known to stumble across the occasional hobo on their visits, so we came equipped with a couple of kershaw’s, praying not to get in some fucking knife fight. But, shit, its better to have one than not right? So. Ward 8.

We’re in a connecting hallway with a couple of wired off windows that can see outside, and my buddy say’s “yo, yo get away from the window”. We look outside and there’s an ambulance, no lights on, creeping slowly around the hospital. He must’ve been going at about 5 miles per hour, so we thought dammit, if there’s an ambulance, there must be a cop somewhere. The ambulance disappears from our line of sight from the windows and must’ve driven around all of the other wards at the same pace because a minute or so later, we see the ambulance pass right alongside the hallway we were standing in. Still fucking creeping. Thank god, the ambulance drives away, so we think, okay shit that was just a scare, there’s no cops around, let’s just keep on going.

We slowly advance for another 3 or so minutes and come across a huge lobby, probably the cafeteria and start taking a couple shots of the collapsed ceiling. we walk a bit further into the cafeteria and are by the windows again. The see the ambulance again! Creeping, just like last time, along the perimeter of the building. We hide from the windows hoping that we weren’t seen as the cafeteria is full of windows to the exterior. This time, we start to shit ourselves a little bit more.

He disappears from our line of view again, and of course, comes across the other side of the building, circling it just like last time, 5 mph, just like last time. This time, however, he doesn’t go leave the complex, he drives up to ward 11, the last ward and parks in a cove with no exit that was right out of our line of sight. We hear the door open and close and another door open and close. We were able to tell that there was only one person in the ambulance from the first time we sighted it. What the fuck is going on?? Was this guy here to shoot up? seemed like a bad place for a trip. Was he here for some sort of drug deal? Or was he back to “play” with us because he saw us on his last ride around?

We stay put, and at this point, we’re maybe 50 yards from ward 11 and 100-200 yards from the exit that we came in from. We know of no other exits except for the ones at each end. Trying to be as quiet as possible, we begin to hear footsteps on the floor above us. seconds later the footsteps turn into running. Towards us! NOPE, we both instantly go for our knives and begin to book the fuck out of there. The fastest 200 yard dash I will do to this day.

We finally reach the exit. We’re safe goddammit we’re safe. We continue to book it a ways out of the hospital till we’re on the path that gets us back to our car. On the way back to the little lot with my buddies car we see there’s a truck, one of those ford rangler types parked right next to my buddies car. We get maybe 50 yards away from it when he turns the car on and starts driving down the road towards us. In the car is another middle aged man, looked real real sketchy. He drives past and thats the last we saw of both of them.

I never got a shot of the ambulance as I was too scared to go near the windows and that my flash would go off, but I did get a shot of the rangler in the parking lot.

What the fuck were these guys doing there? An ambulance??? I’d love to hear what you guys come up with, we’ve been playing it over in our heads for quite a while now…

#13 Terrifying True Tales of Abandoned Asylums and Hospitals #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits #paranormal #haunted locations #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem #shared stories

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sh00kspeared · 2 months

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SilverV Week

Hey @silverv-week , I’ve been excited for silverv weekend for a while and have something to share! I really wanted to write something based on the prompts but didn’t get to it since I was hyper focused on a different project in which I’m translating Cyberpunk into Elizabethan/Shakespearean English (to the best of my abilities; I love Shakespeare but am not a scholar or anything).

Warning, this isn't overly polished and is still kinda only partially edited, so it's likely that not all of the phrases sound fully Elizabethan. I rewrote part of Johnny and V’s conversation in the Tower ending (with a few more outward declarations of love so that it would constitute as SilverV), so here there be spoilers!

Johnny: I am fain to see fair Night ere my skyward leave— marry, she is a fair nunnery.

V: I needs say farewell. Pray you, open the door?

Weiss: Be not afeared— eternity is a foreign word and thy leave shall be short.

V: I am not a man who casts lots. [aside to Weiss] Pray you, open the door.

(the cart door opens)

Johnny: Lo, ‘tis fair Night, slumbering at thy feet. Marry, she is smaller than she once was— or thou hast grown.

V: Thy ruse is disquieting. I am undeserving of much, but above all, I am undeserving of thy love.

Johnny: Thou knowest I’m an ever fixéd man— My ruse will thus remain so steadfast as An anchor’d barque by golden-dusted shores. As thou hast slavéd as a watchman’s dog I pray thee, wear thy pride upon thy brow A diadem of triumph o’er Thanatos.

V: Dost thou yet love me? Thy bidding is crushed by mine own hand.

Johnny: Aye– With thee I spake beside the quarry– thus Our peace was sown for evermore and naught Of all my promises hath changéd since. Once I dreamt of mirthful things which hath Been cloven since; and yet, above all else, Th’ dreams I held for those I loved Were crumbl’d more than aught else I held dear. My bidding is to lend my soul this rest, Or else to stay with thee till we needs part, For I am fill’d with mirth that thou wast this: He who remainest my life’s final friend.

V: May I still call thee friend when thou art slain by mine own hand? O, that I weren’t a murderer!

Johnny: Aye, V– in sooth, thou art my dearest friend, And such that ‘murd’rer’ is a foreign word. Our tales end ever seal’d in a stroud, With caskets graven with my name or thine. I forthwith choose the stroud which bears my name, For verily thy body is thine own.

V: I am loathe to see thee die.

Johnny: I know thy heart— ‘tis for thine own good.

V: I ponder a world where we are strangers.

Johnny: On my word, the rapier would have pierced thy brain and turned thee into a grave man. And, hadst thou survived the foil, thou would have been an even graver man sans my counseling.

V: There is yet sooth in a jest– thou art my savior.

Johnny: The Relic was thine anchor, but valor and will was thy true saviour. Our journey was most star-alignéd.

V: Thy reserve is unbefitting of our circumstance.

Johnny: Once I didst hide my weapon in th’ cheverel sheath of Hades– I am an adept of death.

V: Put aside thy jests.

Johnny: ‘twas e’ery day I felt death pressed to my back– insomuch that I spent my days entrapped in a dance with it. But, sooth– ne’er have I felt such peace than I do now.

V: I have brushed fingers with th’ broad welkin as well. ‘Tis a gast thing.

Johnny: I am afeared for thee— as I am a gravéd man, eyes palled cannot see thee, nor can they see the world. But, sooth— I would be ever more gasted wert thou to be palled in place of me.

Dr. Lorenzo: you are afeared. I will give you this elixir— you must be well-brainéd ere the Relic is removed.

Johnny: all so soon asleep, lambkin.

V: all so soon…

Johnny: give me thine oath, sweeting.

V: were mine ears with cotton stuff’d, still would I swear upon the holy writ with both hands.

Johnny: Thus, lend thyself this mercy: Find thee bliss, Water fresh, and ale gold, and vales green. Sheathe thy rapier, fill thy hands with softer things, Thy mouth with laughter and thine ears with hymns. But this above all else: be faithful to Thyself as shepherd’s dog, unto thyself So true that one may gaze upon thee and Proclaim, ‘Sure as stars doth glister, thou art V.’

V: Johnny… I…

J: Good night, sweet Vincent, and dream thou so sweetly that thou may never wish to wake. The sun falleth on a mirthful day.

#spot the sex joke challenge because I did write in a sex joke #you can probably guess who delivers it #silvervweek #cyberpunk 2077 #v cyberpunk #johnny silverhand #johnny x male v #male v #writing #shakespeare #fanfiction #cyberpunk spoilers #phantom liberty #phantom liberty spoilers

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 3 months

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Whomst?

I've read the book three times now, but I'm never prepared for the Buffalo Bill cameo.

His appearance is abrupt:

It was up at the Wee Fleet that Buffalo Bill stuck that night in 1904. His show was touring Britain in a train of American-type stock. With it the G.&.S.W. took great pains. Two 0-6-0 engines from Ayr shed, 316 and 318, were provided, with two good men, Tom Barry on the first one and Andrew Watt on the second. These stayed with the train during its tour of Ayrshire. For the extra heavy grades south of Girvan, No. 9 from that shed, one of Smellie's 0-6-0's rebuilt with domed boiler, was turned out, and two Girvan stalwarts, Driver John McKnight and Fireman Andrew Bowman, banked them through to New Luce. The Ayr engines turned home from Stranraer. The next move was to Dumfries. The Caledonian, very scornful of those puny Sou'West engines, sent down one of their 0-8-0s from Motherwell shed, with a Motherwell driver. Andrew McKenzie of Stranraer acted as conductor. Now they were repairing the Wee Fleet viaduct at the time, and a man was stationed there to give a caution signal to all trains, as the gradient falls steeply to the viaduct in both directions. Evidently the sight of Buffalo Bill bearing down on him in the darkness was too much for the watchman's nerves, for instead of giving them a green lamp he gave a red, and stopped the procession on the viaduct. So they only got half-way up the succeeding 1 in 76 when they stuck, and had to divide their train, taking it up to Loch Skerrow in two portions. If Buffalo Bill could have seen the country in which he stuck he might well have imagined himself back in the Black Hills of Dakota.

Citation needed, Davie. Citation needed.

- Tales of the Glasgow and South Western (David L. Smith)

#also HELL YEAH #it's not a very exciting tale #nor an emotional one #but in this book it's always a grand auld W whenever the caley eats shit #(when i make a bingo card for reading this book that's definitely gonna be a square)#real true railway stuff #ttte plot inspiration #glasgow and south western engines #caledonian engines #scottish engines #david l. smith

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english-history-trip · 9 months

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Tudor Week 2023, Day 3: Best Tudor Myth

The Tale of Henry VIII's "Walking Stick"

With this staff, the wardens tell you, the king walked round the city sometimes, to see that the constables did their duty; and, one night, as he was walking near the bridge-foot, the constable stopped him, to know what he did with such an unlucky weapon at that time of the night; upon which the king struck him; but the constable calling the watchman to his assistance, His Majesty was apprehended and carried to the Poultry compter, where he lay confined till morning, without either fire or candle. When the keeper was informed of the rank of his prisoner, he despatched a messenger to the constable, who came trembling with fear, expecting nothing less than to be hanged, drawn, and quartered; but instead of that, the king applauded his resolution in honestly doing his duty, and made him a handsome present. At the same time, he settled upon St. Magnus parish an annual grant of 23£, and made a provision for furnishing 30 chaldron of coals and a large allowance of bread annually for ever, towards the comfortable relief of his fellow prisoners and their successors, which the wardens say is paid them to this day. -- William Pinnock, The Guide to Knowledge, 1833

While the story itself seems unlikely, the weapon known as "Henry VIII's Walking Stick," a long wooden staff with an attachment of a combination spiked mace and concealed gun, is very real, and can still be seen in the Tower of London.

#in any case it's a hell of a weapon #I've been slacking on Tudor Week #tudorweek2023 #tudors #weaponry #also 'The Guide to Knowledge' is a great name for a book

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twittercomfrnklin2001-blog · 9 months

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The best film I watched in August and probably the whole year will probably be a no brainer since I showed a friend Fritz Lang’s M (1931, Max, Prime) last night. Lang’s first sound film was a breakthrough in its use of tracking shots and a musical leitmotif to tell the tale of the hunt for a child killer (Peter Lorre) by the police on one side and the criminal underworld on the other. The film’s cynical view of power structures and cinematographer Fritz Arno Wagner’s painting with light and shadow would become major influences on the rise of film noir in the 1940s, while, with Alfred Hitchcock’s THE LODGER (1927), M would inspire decades of police procedurals with its panoramic view of the social effect of Lorre’s crimes. It also contains an unforgettable performance by the actor, who manages to make his character both animalistic and surprisingly sympathetic. His climactic monolog, delivered to a kangaroo court of criminals whose livelihood has been threatened by the police search for him, is one of the greatest acting moments on screen.

What surprised me on re-viewing the film for the first time in years was how much humor Lang had injected into the film. Scenes of the public panic, as anybody seen talking to a child or in police custody is presumed to be the killer, are mordantly funny, while the quirks of the various legal and criminal authority figures create a great gallery of comic grotesques.

As an early talkie, the film maintains a lot of the visual story telling of the silent era. You can tell the washerwoman featured early on is the mother of young Elsie just from the way Lang cuts between the two, and Elsie’s death is communicated through simple details — her ball rolling across the grass and the balloon Lorre had bought her tangled in some power lines.

Lang also uses editing for social criticism, as he repeatedly cuts between a criminal meeting to discuss the murder investigation and a meeting of the city’s leaders. This is one of the film’s most subversive elements, the equation of the city government and police force with the criminal underworld. Is there that much difference between the police indiscriminately raiding underworld hangouts and the criminals breaking into an office building and torturing the night watchman? And when Elsie’s mother says at the end, “One needs to keep closer watch over our children, all of you!” the film becomes almost prescient, or at least benefits from our knowledge of the children (and adults) who would be slaughtered when the Third Reich came into power.

#fritz lang #peter lorre #german expressionism #film noir #police procedural #great films

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bluestonebliss · 5 months

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HELLO my tumblr twin, it’s your turn to share something spooky from where you’re from!

Tales From the Perth Regions

Okay I dragged my Dad into helping me answer this ask because that man knows everything there is to know about The Happenings of this area.

These are my favourites.

The Satanists of Kings Park

To those unaware, Kings Park is one of the largest gardens within a city in the world. That place is fucking massive, and contains a lot of thick bush. One of the landmark buildings in the park is the DNA tower, named after its shape.

Also, unrelated but the vantage point from the top of the tower is pretty neat.

Popular local legend goes that from the mid to late 70s a group of Satanists and Devil-worshippers would gather on full moons at midnight to have meetings and dances on the tower, terrorising any outsiders that dared to get close. Over the years a few homeless people who slept in the park have gone missing or found dead leading many to believe they were sacrificed in a ritual.

My Dad never personally got chased out my a mob of Satanists, but many of his mates claim to have seen their dances.

Personally, I find this one rather rude. Im a bit miffed I didnt get an invite to these meetings. Mayhaps the kings park satanists are a tradition in need of revival.

The Wreck of the SS Alkimos

Boy oh boy this is a long one. Buckle up.

No idea about how much of this is factual, but as requested this is as much of the story as I can recount as it is told through the broken game of telephone.

Upon its construction, the Alkimos experienced its first tragedy. The story goes that during construction, eleven workers were trapped between layers of metal. They all suffocated to death. Some say their bodies werent found for days, while others say their corpses were never removed.

The ship saw active service in WW2 when its second tragedy occured. Some radio operator was killed in a muder-suicide on board which was covered up as an enemy attack. Apparently the radio opperator was the first Toronto woman to die in active duty during WW2. Her name was... Maud? I think? Her ghost is said to haunt the Alkimos. Now, this is a detail thats neither here nor there, but Dad says many radio broadcasts were made back in the 50s on the Alkimos wreck trying to document it for the public, but almost all of them failed or experienced a malfunction during transmission. Bit of an odd coincidence, no?

Now on to the weird shit.

On a trip to W.A., the Alkimos wrecked on Beagle Island. It was salvaged and towwed to the Freo ports for repair. It was then towwed out by an ocean-going tug boat to Kong Kong when the tow cable broke, and sent Alkimos right back to wreck on the coast of Freo. They flooded the hull to keep her stationary, and posted an onboard watchman. Dad says this watchman was driven off the job, claiming the ship was haunted. The Alkimos was repaired one again, and was leaving for the Philippines but the tug assisting got recalled due to a storm and Alkimos took anchor. The anchor broke, and sent the Alkimos back to run aground at Yanchep, only an hour-ish from Freo port. They gave up trying to restore her after that, and there she still remains to this day.

And now the bat-shit stuff.

Multiple scrapping companies attempted to scrap parts of the Alkimos over the years after everyone gave up trying to fix her. One company reported that every time they tried, a fire would break out on board. Every time they came back the fire would somehow restart and drive them away. A few of these companies went bankrupt soon after. Thus, the legend that removing any part of the Alkimos was an omen of terrible luck.

It is said that many ghosts haunt the wreck. The most famous being Henry, the ghost of an elder man in gumboots and an oil skin. Apparently he's nice enough. My Dad's mate, Jack Sue, wrote a book about the ship ( The Ghost of the Alkimos) and during his stay on board the ship for research he bunked there over night. He said that he woke one night to pained moans from the nearby bunk, and upon turning on his torch, the sheets of the bed went sailing across the room. He said that you could hear voices aboard and the smell of cooking despite it being abandoned. He took a spice rack off the ship, and immediately was hospitalised with some sort of lung infection. However, his lungs were already fucked by the war, so its not like it was very out of the blue. He died fully convinced the ship was haunted, and he was not the sort to shake easy.

Around the late 1960s, champion swimmer Herbert 'Shark Bait' Voigt attempted an unassisted swim from Cottesloe Beach to Rotto, an island off the coast of W.A. (from which the main access point is via the Freo port) Anyway, he was never seen again. A few weeks later, about an hour north of his departure point, his skull was found floating above the wreck of the Alkimos my an escaped prisoner. Some versions of the story say is was found over the wreck, some say about 200m off the wreck, and others say it was found in the flooded engine room. Nobody knows for sure. Regardless, the cause of death was never determined.

The Alkimos has been blamed for so many misfortunes, deaths, mishaps and the like in the area that its impossible to tell you all of them. My Dad even blames a missing half a tank of petrol on the Alkimos from when he rode there.

If you want to learn more, i bet that book would be a great place to start.

Either way, seems like a great scuba place to me! I will for sure be diving what remains of the ship the second I get the chance. And I will be taking what ever I can get my mits on from the wreck.

Sadly, almost all the ship is underwater these days, but nothing a snorkle cant fix! If I go missing after announcing a trip there, you will know why.

#rewriting this whole ass essay bc tumblr didnt save my draft #batshit aus things #western australia #you may be a trains autistic but i am a shipwreck autistic. specifically haunted shipwrecks.#i froth at the mouth over a good ship wreck #i wanna go there so bad #i dont usually believe in ghosts but the Alkimos is WEIRD #kings park satanists plz invite me #i dabble in satanism and i wanna be a local legend #asks #moots my beloved #Lost is my tumblr twin #Oh! and also the perth hills people believe there are panthers and tigers and shit in the local bush

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redladydeath · 4 months

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how i order my personal evillious playlist

Worldplay

Watching Us

The Frog’s And My Love Romance

Barisol’s Child is an Only Child

Bloodstained Switch

Prophet Merry-Go-Round

Queen of the Glass

Project Ma

Escape of Salmhofer the Witch

Moonlit Bear

Ma Survival

The Whereabouts of the Miracle

Recollective Music Box

The Song I Heard Somewhere

Tale of Abandonment on a Moonlit Night

Chrono Story

The Lunacy of Duke Venomania

The Portrait Glassred Drew

The Flower of the Plateau

Evil Food Eater Conchita

Drug of Gold

Red Shoe Parade

Neomaria of the Inverted Gravestone

Swear an Oath on that Bridge

That King was Born from Mud

A Hero’s Armor is Always Crimson

Twiright Prank

The Daughter of Evil

The Servant of Evil

Regret Message

The Daughter of White

Tree Maiden ~Millennium Wiegenlied~

Blink

Handbeat Clocktower

The Journey of Two Mages ~Great Wall and Watchman~

The Letter She Kept Waiting For

Clockwork Lullaby

Gift from the Princess who Brought Sleep

Fifth Pierrot

Wendy

The Tailor of Enbizaka

The Weathered Head at Onigashima

The Flames of the Yellow Phosphorus

Full Moon Laboratory

And Then the Girl Went Man -Ending Tale on a Moonlit Night-

The Last Revolver

The Contradictory Grim the End

Miniature Garden Girl

Judgement of Corruption

The Muzzle of Nemesis

Heartbeat Clocktower

Lu Li La, Lu Li La, The Resounding Song

Evils Forrest

The Master of the Graveyard

Ending Boy Hansel

Genesis Girl Gretel

Evils Court

The Master of the Court

Capriccio Farce

The Master of the Hellish Yard

Seven Crimes and Punishments

The Master of the Heavenly Yard

Re_birthday

The Song of the Third Period

At the End of a Millennium Vow

Waltz of the Departed

Outlaw & Marionette

Banica Concerto!!

GrEAT Joruney

The Blind Girl and the Angel

The Song of the Cowardly Black Bird

White Brick and Black Mourning Dress

Atelier Horloge

The Twin Rabbits Cometh and Play Their Flute

Sister Clarith’s Curious Night

The Messengers of the Infinity Mirrors

The Steel Lady, Rilia-Renée

Fictional Masquerade

Torture Tower Doesn’t Sleep

The Karma of Evil Will Not End

Madam Merry-Go-Round

Screws, Gears, and Pride

Desert Bluebird

Unlock Blackbox

Ten Minutes Love

To You of Few Words

South North Story

*You Only Have to Double Jump and Halfblood are not included because they were made for other properties and appear to be entirely disconnected from Evillious. Fictional Masquerade would also be excluded if it weren't referenced by Rilia-Renée.

#redlady speaks #evillious chronicles

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thenicestthingiveseen · 4 months

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Prompt- I’m the necromancer and you’re the dead guy in the museum that I accidentally brought to life

in which the Weasleys are "witches". (or, "were" witches once upon a time if you have Arthur tell it)

“In my defense,” Gideon starts. “I didn’t think it would actually work. I mean, seriously, who keeps a dead body in a museum?” It’s a weak excuse and he knows it.

The three - well, four - of them are standing in a circle, just staring at one another.

When he’d managed to nick the keys from Filch, the night watchman, Gideon expected to horse around with his sister and their friend and run through the different archives. But suddenly, their party of three turned into a party of four (although she’s not fully human, Gideon is counting her presence fully) and it is not how Gideon expected to spend All Hallows Eve. It was meant to be a stop on their night of spooky activities – what’s a cheeky séance between friends? It wasn’t supposed to work, his father swore his powers were dormant at best and very weak at worst. Centuries of evolution and blood dilution had rendered their family’s powers somewhat useless in this day and age. Their mother considered it a blessing, people didn’t look too kindly on witches these days, especially witches who tended to harness powers on the darker end of the spectrum; like Gideon and his older sister Penelope - the two of the most likely to possess some sort of mediumship compared to the rest of their family. Turns out, Gideon’s powers are potent or potent enough, and now a beautiful young girl is standing in front of him and he’s lost all further cognitive ability.

“So,” Rowan draws out the vowels as she surveys the specter before them. “What do you suppose we do with it?” The ghost looks a lot like the girl from the fairy tale that their mother used to tell them when they were kids. A princess held captive by her evil relatives, waiting for her parents to return, who has a mad King determined to kill her to maintain his claim to a throne that’s rightfully hers.

“Not call them, ‘it’ for starters,” Hector mumbles under his breath.

“Do something.” Rowan hisses at Gideon and it shakes him out of his stupor. He blinks slowly - brown eyes locked on eyes that might’ve been blue or green in another life - and has to drag himself away from her to look at his sister. Confused as to what she expects him to do. This was supposed to be fun. How was he to know that ghosts lurk in places that aren’t crypts?

He pauses for a moment before turning back to the girl and he’s already asking her her name without any consideration for whether or not she can even utter a response. Because, it would be embarrassing if he was able to call a ghost back, but managed not to be able to get her to speak. His thoughts are interrupted by a barely whispered, “Hallie”.

Rowan and Gideon look at each other with matching looks of surprise and concern. Oh.

#hinny #writing #prompts #displayheartcode #fic

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dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd · 8 months

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Hammersmith Ghost: The Ghastly Tale of the London Haunting that Led to Murder

Through November and December of 1803, London was seized by pure terror. The Hammersmith district had been plagued with sightings of a macabre-looking ghost. Every night, reports of a malevolent apparition flooded the police station. According to most accounts, the specter was determined to frighten anyone nearby. It was described as wearing a white shroud or calfskin and having large glassy eyes. One of the most alarming encounters concerned an elderly woman and her younger, pregnant friend. The two women were allegedly so scared upon seeing the ghost that they died of fright in their beds a few days later. Another sighting occurred and caused a wagoner to lose control of his horses. His 16 passengers were injured. Finally, a brewer named Thomas Groom claimed to be strangled from behind while strolling through a churchyard. After grappling with his assailant, Groom turned around in time to see the ghost vanish behind a row of tombstones.

Local speculation eventually traced the ghost to the restless spirit of a man who had slashed his own throat 12 months prior; as a suicide case, his soul was unable to rest peacefully, so the theory went. But skeptics in the village believed they were being victimized by a prankster, and quickly formed a vigilante group.

On December 29, members of the group, including night-watchman William Girdler, spotted a shrouded figure lurking about the area. The group gave chase; halfway into their pursuit, the figure dropped his shroud and escaped.

Four days later, everything changed.

Thomas Millwood, a 32-year-old plasterer, was returning home along Black Lion Lane on the evening of January 3, 1804. Having just come from his parents’ home, Millwood was still wearing his white work clothes: an apron, waistcoat, and trousers. One of the vigilantes named Francis Smith spotted Millwood and immediately shouted: “Damn you. Who are you and what do you want? I’ll shoot you if you don’t speak!” Without waiting for a response, Smith fired two gunshots, one of which hit Millwood in the face and killed him instantly.

Hearing the shots from her house, Anne Millwood called out her brother’s name in the street but did not get an answer. She ran into the direction of Black Lion Lane and found him sprawled across the ground, covered in blood. Once it became evident that Millwood was the victim of mistaken identity, and that Smith had fired his gun in haste, Smith surrendered to police. Millwood’s body was taken to the Black Lion Inn and examined by the local surgeon, where it was confirmed that a bullet wound to the lower left jaw and subsequent spinal damage had been the cause of death.

Two days later, a man named John Graham came forward and admitted to being the Hammersmith “ghost.” Graham stated that he had created the ruse to scare his apprentices who had been frightening his children with ghost stories. Still, his reasoning did not explain why unrelated people had been attacked. Unsure about how to deal with him, the judges granted him bail while they deliberated. No records of further legal action against Graham exist.

#hammersmith ghost #ghosts #john graham #spooky #history

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chiropteracupola · 11 months

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i'm afraid i do not know what &c is but i am intrigued by tavern futures / lesbian handicrafts time

'this is my first the wolf and the watchman' fic', says the guy who swore so vehemently that they would write no fics for this book ever at all. as you can see, I have failed to follow through on that promise and am in fact writing Two now.

so I got absolutely knocked head-over-heels by the way that johanna makes her exit from the narrative of this book, and also by the end of it all was just very very tired of anna stina having nearly every awful thing that could possibly happen to her Happen. and thus I wanted to write something where 1) johanna is fine and 2) very few further tragical happenings occur and 3) as a treat for me they might even kiss about it. also because a few months ago I learned to spin yarn and now I am (as is usual) obsessed with applying Craft Skills I Learned into my fics.

so this is a story called Johanna Gets Out Of The Workhouse and this is a story called Where Else To Go Than The Safe Place You Made For Your Friend and this is a story called Taking The Skills You Used To Use For Keeping Yourself Alive And Using Them To Make The Future Better.

[also I'm going to go right ahead and pretend the sequels don't exist both for the sense of this fic and also just in general. I have a Foreboding that niklas natt och dag might be setting up for cardell/anna stina in the rest of the series and I have no interest in it*]

“Will you stop your fussing?” Johanna’s eyes glinted sharply, and Anna Stina was glad to see her friend’s familiar fire. So determined, as always, to have things her own way. “I think I’ve earned the right to a bit of fussing,” she replied, pulling her shawl a little more closely around Johanna’s shoulders. “Living with Tulip has made you as silly as he is,” said Johanna, but there was more of a laugh to her voice than Anna Stina had ever heard in all those dark nights when Johanna had sat at the foot of her bed and measured out tales in exchange for new-spun string. Now it was Anna Stina who sat at the foot of the bed, thick new-bought stockings keeping her feet from the cold of the floorboards. Things were not as they had been before at all, at all, and she drew her feet up under her skirts, resting her heels against the bed-frame. “Come and sit with me,” said Johanna, her knees tucked close to her chest under the quilt. It was a faded old thing, worn at the corners where it had not yet been mended, but still thick and warm despite its age. Perhaps it had been the childhood blanket of the real Lovisa Ulrika Tulip — Anna Stina had not asked, for fear of shattering the fine layer of falsehood that still lay between her and her foster-father. But no matter the girl whose quilt it had been, for she was years gone from Stockholm, and had only entered into Anna Stina’s life by the empty space she had left behind. There was another such empty place at Johanna’s side, in that bed in the upper story of the Scapegrace that ought to have been hers and her erstwhile husband’s, and Anna Stina fitted herself into it neatly.

#em writes stuff #actually. would it hurt to maintag this. there are four maybe five people on this whole website who Care and one of them is me.#we are being confident today I think and I Will maintag that #the wolf and the watchman #so yeah. Family Of anna stina and her kid and her not-really-her-dad and her girlfriend who is both Okay and Present.#*if you have read 1794/1795 and thus Have Information then please Keep Me In The Dark About It. thankee.#OH YEAH AND the '&c' is just for things that it didn't feel worthwhile to sort into their own full sections. it's 'etc' basically.

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mask131 · 1 year

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Cold Winter: Heimdall

HEIMDALL

Category: Norse mythology

Heimdall (or Heimdallr if you want to stick more to the original Old Norse spelling) is one of the most famous Norse gods, frequently popping up alongside other iconic Norse gods such as Odin, Tyr, Thor or Loki. But in truth… Heimdallr is a very mysterious figure full of enigmas and that we haven’t entirely deciphered yet. Let’s take a look, shall we? And as usual, we’ll take a look at the Eddas.

THE POETIC EDDA

We know from the first of the Eddas that Heimdall dwells in Himinbjörg, a well-built house where he joyfully drinks mead and “holds sway over men”. Heimdall is described as the “watchman of the gods” or the “warder of heaven” – a thing that Loki uses against him during the flyting of the gods, claiming that Heimdallr was condemned to a “hateful life” as the watchman of the gods, who will forever have a “muddy back”. Described as the brightest/whitest of all the Aesir, and clearly depicted in stories as living among them, he is yet said to own the gift of foresight “just like the Vanir”. And it is this gift of foresight that apparently led him to suggest the idea, when Thor’s hammer got stolen by a jötunn wanting Freyja in marriage, to disguise Thor AS Freyja… Yep, this whole thing was Heimdall’s idea.

When Odin consults an undead völva to obtain knowledge of the future, she describes to him Ragnarök and mentons that Heimdallr will play a role in it – it is said that when the “sons of Mim dance” and when Yggdrasil starts burning, Heimdall will raise his horn, Gjallarhorn, and blow it so loudly even the dead in Hel will quake in fear (Gjallarhorn seemingly meaning “the horn of Gjöll”, which is one of the underworld-rivers of Norse mythology). And then comes a strange passage of her prophecies where she says that Heimdall’s horn (or “hearing” depending on the translation) is hidden under Yggdrasil – and it seems to be linked to a pledge (or wager) made by Odin and to a mighty stream/muddy torrent/foamy river-fall, which itself is tied to the pledge of Odin… It is overall a very strange passage that confused many scholars. For some it simply means that the horn is hidden near the underworld river it bears the name of ; for others it means that Heimdall left his ear in one of the rivers under Yggdrasil the same way Odin sacrificed one of his eyes in Mimir’s well… And just as mysterious are actually the opening lines of the völva’s prophecy, when she asks for all “the holy races/sacred children”, born out of Heimdall’s sons both high and low/great and small, to be silent and listen to her. What are those “children-races” of Heimdall? Well… for some people it might be humanity.

For you see, there is a tale in the Poetic Edda called the “Rigsmal” about a god of the Aesir called Rigr (or Rig). Rig is an old, wise, mighty and strong god. As he was walking on a seashore, he came to the farm-hut owned by a couple known as Ai and Edda (Great-Grandfather and Great-Grandmother). They offered him shelter, and a meal of poor, rough food. That very night Rigr slept in the couple’s bed, right between the two, and then left in the morning. Nine months later Edda had a son, who was swarthy/dark-colored. He was named “Thraell” (thrall/serf/slave), and he grew up strong but ugly. He married Thir (slave girl/bondswoman) and they had twelve sons and nine daughters, all named after ugliness and swarthiness. From them came the lowest of humanity’s social class: the serfs. When Rigr later encountered a pleasant house inhabited by farmers/craftsmen, Afi and Amma (grandfather and grandmother), he repeated the process – except that they gave him a meal of good food, and their son born nine months later had a ruddy complexion. Named Karl (churl/freeman), he married Snör (“daughter-in-law”) and they had twelve sons and ten daughters, all named after neatness and good quality. From them came the free farmers, the craftsmen and the herdsmen. Rigr finally performed his strange sleeping-rite on a third couple: Fadir and Modir (Father and Mother) who lived in a mansion and offered the god a splendid and excellent meal. Their child was blond, bright white in color, and named Jarl (earl/noble). When Jarl was grown up enough to start handling weapons, hawks, hounds and horses Rigr returned and the claimed the boy as his son – he gave him his own name, Rig, made him his heir, taught him the secret of the runes and advised him to seek lordship. Jarl conquered eighteen wealthy regions, married Erna (“brisk”) daughter of Hersir (“lord”) and had twelve sons, all given noble names meaning “son” – and they were the ancestors of the warrior-nobility of the Old Norse.

Why am I telling you this tale? Because the prose introduction to this part of the Poetic Edda claims that Rigr is none other than Heimdall. Such an angle thus would explain the völva’s words earlier as designing Heimdall as the “ancestor of humanity”, and by extension there would be a whole poetic signification of Heimdall being “warden of both gods and men”. And it is all fine and good but… scholars have actually started to wonder if this prose introduction to the poem wasn’t an old misunderstanding. After all, the prose introduction itself presents this tale as being “old” and its very presence is here to explain to the modern readers that the previous generations who told the tale of “Rigr” really meant “Heimdall”. But… when one looks at the story, Rigr seems rather to be Odin. A god wandering on earth among men, taking on a different name and identity… a “builder of world” creating an entire society through his actions… a god who favors warriors and nobility, and who teaches RUNES out all things to a human! In fact, later in the story, the youngest son of Rigr, named Konr, is described as becoming an expert not just as rune-craft but also at other forms of magic, such as being able to understand the speech of birds, to quench fire or heal minds – which in turns, gives him the title of “Rigr”. All these powers are clearly those of Odin, who like Konr (who “inherits” is name) is a warrior-sorcerer. So… Did ancient people mixed the gods together? Was the tale wrongly attributed to Heimdall when it was Odin’s? Or… is it possible that the “original” Heimdall, Rigr, was somehow “absorbed” by Odin? It is a common theory among Norse scholars, that most of the Aesir gods either were aspects of Odin that separated themselves from him OR that instead Odin as a mythological figure built itself by absorbing the other gods of the pantheon… Anyway.

THE PROSE EDDA

The Poetic Edda leaves us with a strange deity. Between the divine and the human, the celestial and the chthonic, the Aesir and the Vanir, Heimdall is an ambiguous figure… What did the Prose Edda made out of him? How did it build Heimdall as a more “understandable” character?

Well, Heimdall is described in there as the “white As” (As as in, the singular of Aesir), a great and holy god with teeth of gold, also called “Hallinskidi”, “Vindhler” and “Gullintanni” and who was birthed by nine maidens, all sisters. Yep, all nine of them gave birth to him – they are his Nine Mothers. The dwelling of Heimdall, Himinbjörg, is said to be near Bifröst, the rainbow-bridge allowing entrance into Asgard, the domain of the gods. In fact, if he lives there it is because of his job as watchman of the gods: he guards the Bifröst bridge from the jötnar by sitting every day on its edge. It is said that Heimdall requires “less sleep than a bird”, that he can see through night as if it was bright day – and that over a hundred leagues. His hearing is also extraordinary as he can hear “the grass growing on earth, the wool growing on the sheep, and all things louder”. He owns Gjallarhorn, a horn that is so loud it is heard across all the Nine Worlds when blown. He has a horse named Gulltoppr, and it is said that the head is often referred to as “Heimdall’s sword”.

He is called “son of Odin”, “Loki’s enemy” and “recoverer of Freyja’s necklace”. Indeed, it is known that Heimdallr fought against Loki for Freyja’s legendary necklace, Brisingamen – the “famed rainbow defender, ready in wisdom” battled against “Farbauti’s sin-sly offspring” at Singasteinn, the “singing stone/chanting stone”… Oh, and did I mention they were both in the shape of seals? Unfortunately we don’t know more about this mythological event, merely talked about in references, so it is unclear how both of them turned into sea animals or how Freyja’s necklace ended up in such a strange situation.

What we know however is what will happen to him at Ragnarök: as the enemies of the gods will gather on the plain known as Vidrigr, Heimdall will blow into Gjallarhorn, which will awake all of the gods and prompt them to gather at an exceptional thing (a “thing” being an Old Norse judiciary and political gathering, a reunion of the entire community to take decisions impacting it). It said that when the gods will fight their enemies, Heimdall will have to face Loki and they will kill each-other – but Heimdall will raise his horn and blow it once more… when Yggdrasil, after the battle, will be devoured by the flames.

- - - - - -

And this is it. This is all we know about Heimdall – and people have been trying to solve the puzzle that he is for a VERY long time.

One element that has been put forward is Heimdall’s liminal nature. He is a guardian of border and frontiers, a watchman over a bridge – and if he is Rigr, he first manifests in the story on a sea-coast and then travel through roads. All are liminal places, and Heimdall is even the one who’s horn will announce the start of Ragnarök, THE biggest transitional event of all Norse mythology.

Another theory that has been put forward is that Heimdall is some sort of ram-god. Indeed, people have pointed out that several of the god’s alternate names, “Heimdali” and “Hallinskidi” both are used to designate ram and sheep ; this, added to an insistence in describing the god’s teeth (who are apparently made of gold), the fact he is said able to hear “the wool growing on the sheep”, and the link between head and sword were all used as proof of his ram connection (not only is the head said to be “Heimdall’s sword”, there are also talks in Prose Edda of a sword called “Vindhler’s helmet-filler”, which basically means “Heimdall’s head”… and the “sword” of a ram is his horns, that he bears on his head.

But one of the biggest mysteries of Heimdall is without a doubt his Nine Mothers. In the Poetic Edda, Heimdallr is described as the son of nine mothers who were all sisters, a claim taken back in the Prose Edda (which adds that the father was Odin). There is a certain poem that is often invoked as describing the true identity of Heimdall’s Nine Mothers – it is the “Völuspa hin skamma”, but note that if I did not include it in my main look at Heimdall it is because nowhere in this poem is Heimdall named in one way or another. The poem merely tells the birth of a “mighty god” from nine sisters, and how the boy-god grew up strong nourished by “the strength of the earth”, “the ice-cold sea” and the blood swine or boar. The Nine Mothers are here described as jötunn maidens who gave birth “at the edge of the world”, and each is given a name: Angeyja, Atla, Eistla, Eyrgjafa, Gjalp, Greip, Imdr, Jarnsaxa and Ulfrun. This entire description has notably led people to believe that the Nine Mothers of Heimdallr are actually the same as the “nine daughters” of Aegir and Ran, a duo of jötnar sea-gods who had birthed nine jötunn maidens personifying the waves (even though they are given different names than those listed above).

But this just muddles further the complex heritage of Heimdall… Descendant of jötnar, and yet counted among the Aesir, and yet said to have the powers of the Vanir… He basically bears the traits of all three divine groups of Norse mythology. And no, him being called a son of Odin doesn’t clarify anything because that’s done in the Prose Edda – and the Prose Edda turned basically all of the Aesir into sons of Odin. Just like Tyr – who went from the son of a jötunn in the Poetic to a son of Odin in the Prose.

#cold winter #norse mythology #norse gods #heimdall #heimdallr

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general-illyrin · 1 year

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Random Headcanon(ish)

I was reading Beren and Luthien recently, and I came across a fascinating detail about Barahir's dwelling while at Tarn Aeluin.

When Barahir and his band of outlaws retreat to the lake, their home is described in the following way:

"for where the highland brown and bare above the darkling pines arose of steep Dorthonion to the snows and barren mountain-winds, there lay a tarn of water, blue by day, by night a mirror of dark glass for stars of Elbereth that pass above the world into the West. Once hallowed, still that place was blest: no shadow of Morgoth, and no evil thing yet thither came; a whispering ring of slender birches silver-grey stooped on its margin, round it lay a lonely moor, and the bare bones of ancient Earth like standing stones thrust through the heather and the whin; and there by houseless Aeluin the hunted lord and faithful men under the grey stones made their den." (emphasis added)

What caught my attention about this passage is that the stones Barahir and his men lived under are said to resemble standing stones, which are prehistoric monuments specifically placed in the ground by humans. Standing stones don't occur naturally, which is an interesting thing to say about a stone, even if it's just a simile.

However, this description has noticeable parallels to a passage in the Unfinished Tales, when Turin and his band of outlaws encounter Mîm:

"Soon after, it chanced that as the grey light of a day of rain was failing Turin and his men were sheltering in a holly-thicket; and beyond it was a treeless space, in which there were many great stones, leaning or tumbled together. All was still, save for the drip of rain from the leaves. Suddenly a watchman gave a call, and leaping up they saw three hooded shapes, grey-clad, going stealthily among the stones. They were burdened each with a great sack, but they went swiftly for all that." (emphasis added)

And the note on this passage states

"The mystery of the other things in Mim's sack is not explained. The only other statement on the subject is in a hastily scribbled note, which suggests that there were ingots of gold disguised as roots, and refers to Mim seeking 'for old treasures of a dwarf-house near the "flat stones" \ These were no doubt those referred to in the text (p. 96) as 'great stones, leaning or tumbled together', at the place where Mim was captured." (emphasis added)

This passage was what made me start wondering whether the stones at Tarn Aeluin were also the ruins of a dwarf house. The descriptions were just too similar, and the idea kept nagging at me. But they are still just similarities, so I had to do more research. And this was when I found that dwarves, specifically petty-dwarves, had indeed been at Tarn Aeluin! In The Complaint of Mîm the Dwarf, Mîm says

"If only I could forgive, then I might be able still to create a leaf, a drop of dew on a flower, as it once glittered at Tarn Aeluin, when I was young and first sensed how nimble my fingers were."

I found this fascinating; it implies that petty-dwarves lived there or at the very least visited! And this is supported by more general information in the History of Middle-earth:

"The Dwarves were in a special position. They claimed to have known Beleriand before even the Eldar first came there; and there do appear to have been small groups dwelling furtively in the highlands west of Sirion from a very early date"

When one puts all this information together, it seems not unlikely that Barahir sheltered in abandoned dwarf homes. Any buildings the dwarves had built while living there would very likely still be around by the time Barahir showed up, even though Tarn Aeluin is explicitly said to have been uninhabited during the Long Peace (F.A. 260-455). And as long as they are sturdy enough, why would one build new homes instead of using those already available?

#Of course this does raise more questions - why were the petty-dwarves no longer living there?#Were they driven out? Did they abandon it? If so; why? Or did those living there simply die out?#barahir #mim the petty dwarf #petty dwarves #dwarves #tarn aeluin #the silmarillion #silm #silm meta

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