I love urban myths. Who doesn’t? They’re modern fairy tales and ghost stories that breathe new life into the drab, mundane cities we all live in. They make it seem like the world of the macabre and the fantastic is just around the right dark alley from the humdrum high streets.

One of my favourite urban myths is that of the notorious Spring-Heeled Jack.

Now, while Victorian-era England was ripe with superstitions and ghost stories, few really amounted to much more than pub gossip and slightly sadistic methods of keeping children in line, but in 1837 that all changed.

October 1837, London.

A young girl by the name of Mary Stevens is walking through Clapham Common on her way to her job as a servant in Lavender Hill. Out of nowhere, a figure leaps out of a dark alley and takes her in a vice-like grip and proceeds to tear at her clothes, paw at her flesh and kiss her face. Ms Stevens shrieks in terror and frightens the figure away, drawing the attention of locals who, despite an extensive search of the surrounding area, were unable to locate the culprit.

According to Ms Stevens her attacker had clawed hands that were “cold and clammy as those of a corpse” and a similar assault in the same area the very next day was described by witnesses as being perpetrated by a figure who escaped by leaping a full nine feet over a wall while letting out an unnerving, high pitched laughter as it went. The press soon got a hold of the story and dubbed the apparition Spring-Heeled Jack.

On the 9th of January 1838, Jack made the leap (so to speak) from local rumour to full blown menace when he was given official recognition by the Lord Mayor of London, Sir John Cowan, during a public session at the Mansion house; Jack’s “wicked pranks” having robbed several women of their senses and even frightening a few to death!

The most famous incidents occurred in February of the same year when Ms Jane Alsop and Ms Lucy Scales gave the most enduring and iconic descriptions of Jack which all others relate back to.

Ms Alsop described the man who attacked her on her doorstep as wearing a strange helmet, a heavy cloak, having eyes that burned like red fire balls and wearing a skin tight white outfit that resembled oilskin (a type of fabric treated with linseed oil to make it waterproof - isn’t learning fun?).

Ms Scales, who was attacked near Green Dragon Alley, described her attacker as more gentlemanly than monstrous in appearance. She also said that she was blinded by the blue flames he seemed to breathe.

While there had been dozens of attacks and supposed sightings of Jack between 1837 and 1904, no one was ever caught. There were a number of suspects and even more wild theories ranging from aristocratic youths pulling pranks to a demonic entity that was accidentally summoned by practitioners of the occult. Whatever Spring-Heeled Jack’s true identity may have been, the character gained a life of his own and endured over the years in penny-dreadfuls, novels and even a few films.

He may never have gained the same level of notoriety as a certain other Jack of the time, but he is by far the more interesting character and, I for one, love to speculate just who or what was Spring-Heeled Jack?

Any fan of folklore will be familiar with the poem Beowulf. Those who aren’t should at least have seen the 2007 CGI film. Any good Beowulf fan will also have guessed today’s subject; the son of the mother of monsters, Grendel.

Grendel is the first of three monsters to appear in the epic ballad along with Grendel’s mother and the dragon. In the poem, Grendel is a ferocious, monstrous warrior who storms a mead hall and proceeds to decimate and consume the defending forces all for the simple reason that they were making too much noise for his liking.

The true nature of Grendel is hotly debated among scholars of Anglo-Saxon lore as there is very little in the way of physical descriptions in the poem. Most agree that he was a giant of some sort as it took a full four men to carry his severed head. But was he just a human giant or something more?

The poem describes Grendel as the descendant of Cain, the first murderer from the bible, and, as such, he would be blighted by God as Cain was. He is described by scholars as being more beast than man. His body is covered in scales and horned growths that no iron forged by man could penetrate. But this is a vague description at best, especially considering that around 700-1000AD, when the poem was written, the only accepted difference between man and beast was the ability to walk on two legs. Grendel could have been a vaguely humanoid dragon for all we know.

Another theory and, in my opinion, the most plausible, is that Grendel was a berserker. Such violent and animalistic warriors were common at the time and it would certainly fit the narrative better. The difference between Grendel and Beowulf himself is ambiguous much of the time and it could be argued that Grendel is simply Beowulf’s opposite number or a mirror image of Beowulf if he lost control and gave in to the beast within. His Other.

Whatever his true nature, Grendel is a fascinating character to read about. There were probably many characters like him throughout the span of Anglo-Saxon mythology that are lost but, luckily, his inclusion in the greatest Northern epic ever told has given the mysterious and gruesome Grendel his claim to immortality.

So, enjoy, keep the noise down and prepare for the next great adventure.

Christmas is coming and the goose is getting fat,

Hey look, its Saint Nick but what the hell is that?!

***

Everyone knows about Santa Claus and his yearly trip around the world to deliver presents to all the good little boys and girls, but did you know that he didn’t always like to travel alone?

Once upon a time he had a friend; a slightly, different friend.

With origins firmly rooted in Alpine paganism, the demonic sprite known as the Krampus used to accompany the benevolent Saint Nicholas to the homes of all the children at Christmas.

Often depicted as a horrific or bestial creature, with goat horns or reindeer antlers, and draped head to toe in animal furs, the Krampus acted as Saint Nick’s opposite number.

Where Saint Nicholas would reward the good children with presents, it was up to the Krampus to punish any naughty children with a lump of coal and a sound beating with birch twigs and rusty chains. If any children were particularly naughty, the Krampus would steal them away and toss them into the pits of hell! Or eat them. Accounts vary.

Despite being a decidedly ghoulish apparition on an otherwise merry holiday, the festival of the Krampus was a celebrated part of the Christmas season in several German and Austrian communities. Every year on the 5th of December, young men would dress as the Krampus and parade through towns ringing bells and sweeping birch twigs at onlookers. Some people would even get so much into the festive spirit that they would volunteer to be publicly beaten!

The question is, if the Krampus was once such an integral part of Christmas why isn’t he still?

In today's overly sensitive, politically correct society, do you even need to ask?

Around the turn of the twentieth century, Christian lobbyists attempted to remove any influences that could be considered unwholesome from Christmas celebrations. Unfortunately; with his malicious nature and demonic, almost devil-like appearance, the Krampus was the first to be ousted and, overnight, Santa’s workload was doubled as he was now responsible for handing out the presents and the coal.

He was even banned by the Austrian government in 1934, in the aftermath of the Austrian Civil War. The country had enough to deal with without a ‘demoralizing’ demon adding to their burden.

Luckily, post WWII, the birch-wielding monstrosity made his triumphant return and to this day has remained a favorite holiday tradition in Alpine communities far and wide.

Globally, he is still among the legion of the unknown, but I for one have high hopes. He has made a few small appearances in various media, including cartoons and computer games, and even had his own featured segment in a popular American satirical news show.

Is the Krampus on the up and up? Should he once again saddle up with Santa? In today’s economic climate would a few lumps of coal really be such a bad present? Let me know what you think and Merry Christmas.

There are two types of monsters: those based entirely on myth and folklore, and those based, at least in part, on fact.

Some would argue that all myths, regardless of content, are based on fact in some way, but judging from available evidence such claims are hearsay and conjecture at best. In order to understand how a real world incident can make the jump into folklore, we need a documented case study to analyze. One such case study would be the North American Wendigo phenomenon.

The Wendigo originated from the collective mythologies of the Native American Algonquian tribes such as the Cree and Innu. They claimed people could change into evil cannibalistic spirits or that such spirits could possess the living, especially if the person has partaken of human flesh.


The afflicted person would become gaunt and emaciated. Their skin would turn gray and rotten, their lips torn and bloody. They would become mad and violent and would reek of death and decay; cursed to eternally starve regardless of how much they ate.

Containing strong associations with winter and famine, the Wendigo is sometimes perceived as an anthropomorphic personification: the very embodiment of gluttony, excess and insatiable greed. To avoid running the risk of becoming a Wendigo, tribesmen encouraged a spirit of moderation and cooperation amongst their kin, especially during the harsh winter months when resources were scarce.

Despite appearances, the Wendigo myth, at its core, isn’t intended to scare people. Rather, it is a cautionary tale about the repercussions of cannibalism. The Algonquian tribes believed that eating another person, even as a last resort, to stave off starvation was the ultimate taboo. In the face of starvation, they believed suicide or the simple acceptance of death was the only right way.

That is the myth but what of the facts?

In psychology, there is something called Wendigo Psychosis. This is a person who is overcome with the desire to consume human flesh regardless of the availability of other food sources. Such a condition is usually the result of a prior experience with famine or cannibalism due to near starvation.

      An example of this would be the 1878 incident when a plains Cree trapper, named Swift Runner, and his family was on the brink of starvation. There was a supply station twenty five miles from their location and, despite a difficult trek,, they could have easily made it. Instead of making the journey however Swift Runner killed his wife and five children and ate them all. He was later diagnosed with Wendigo Psychosis and sentenced to death by the authorities.

To this day Wendigo Psychosis is a hotly debated topic amongst scholars. Whether it is a genuine psychosis in and of itself or simply a more aggressive form of cannibalism, no one can decide. Regardless, it is the perfect example of how a real world condition or incident can influence the folklore of a people. It has been well documented and can be analyzed from a psychological or mythological perspective with equal clarity.

Maybe other folktales have equally historical origins. I may take a look at them at a later date but in the mean time, what do you think? Do you have anything to add to the Wendigo debate or do you know any other monsters with a similarly blurred line between fact and fiction? Let me know and be sure to eat right.

Why do vampires and werewolves dominate the horror scene today? Why zombies and demons? Mythology and folklore are overflowing with strange and fascinating creatures which the average reader could never have imagined but due to the popularity of a few, the rest lay forgotten by the way side.

I’m Irish and as such I grew up with stories of magic, fairies, giants and bizarre spirits that I can almost guarantee you’ve never heard of. Ireland is the land of myth and magic and I’d like to talk about one of its denizens that everyone is aware of but few people know anything about.

No, it isn’t a Leprechaun!

Do you know what a zombie is?

If I had asked that question 80 years ago hardly anyone in the western world would have been able to say ‘yes’. Enter 2011 and the exact opposite is true. If a person nowadays has never heard of a zombie then they’re living in an isolated wasteland, devoid of media.

But why have the 20th and early 21st centuries embraced this once obscure cultural entity to the point where it has become an archetype as recognizable as the vampire or werewolf?

Let’s start at the beginning.

While the modern term “zombie” can be traced back to the Haitian word “zonbi”, literally meaning an animated corpse brought back to life through mysticism, we have to go a little further back to 18th and 19th century Africa to discover the origins of the shambling creatures themselves.

Raising the dead is a common feature in many African myths. Methods vary from the vaguely believable, like psychoactive drugs inducing a brain dead, zombie like state, to the totally bizarre: capturing the dead’s souls in bottles and redistributing them or raising corpses by exposing them to young children!

My personal favorite is the West African belief in the Bokor or sorcerer who could raise the dead and bend them to his will like puppets. This seems to be the most likely predecessor to the Haitian voodoo culture and by extension our own modern zombies.

Haitian voodoo was indeed a big part in influencing the modern zombie archetype but it was by no means the only one. The walking dead have existed as far back as ancient Mesopotamia where a passage from the Epic of Gilgamesh speaks of the goddess Ishtar breaking the gates of the underworld and allowing the dead to rise and feed upon the living.

Some more recognizable influences would be the literary works of such famous authors as Mary Shelley, Edgar Allan Poe and of course H.P. Lovecraft. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in particular, while not technically a zombie story, did introduce the ideas of raising the dead through science, and of the dead being more violent by nature than the living.

Further popularizing the idea of science as the cause of the zombie condition, the viral plague scenario we all know so well today was first introduced into the mainstream in the 1936 film Things to Come based on the novel by famed science fiction writer H.G. Wells. That’s right: an alien invasion wasn’t the only apocalyptic scenario the sci-fi master left us with.

But the true father of the modern zombie was none other than the gore-master himself: George A Romero. Romero’s 1968 low budget horror film Night of the Living Dead changed the genre irrevocably. It was so disturbing and terrifying that, at the time of its release, children who saw it were left crying uncontrollably, frozen in their seats with terror.

This was before the modern rating system and probably one of the better arguments for why it exists today.

When asked in an interview, Romero stated that the creatures in his film were his attempt at breeding ghouls and vampires. They were a shambling, mindless, rotting horde whose only desire was to feed on the living and, despite never being named as such in the film, Romero himself described them as zombies frequently in an attempt to give them a traceable origin.

And that’s really it. That is the history of the zombies.

The years after Night of the Living Dead have seen countless remakes, rip-offs and original films all utilizing the creatures that have come to be known as “Romero Zombies”.

From that day to this, the archetype has remained virtually unchanged, although recent years have introduced the next big step: runner zombies. By allowing the once shambling corpses the locomotion and ferocity of a deranged psychopath, their threat level is increased exponentially and thus so has the fright factor.

It is surreal to think just how heavily influenced by zombies modern culture truly is. From custom weapons to survival guides, from jelly brains to organ cakes, anything and everything zombie-related is widely available. People even dress up as zombies as a form of protest, getting together in their hundreds and performing what has become popularly known as the zombie walk.
Before I go, did you know that in the original African myths, feeding a zombie salt was the only way to make it return to its grave? This certainly seems a lot easier than lopping its head off. I mean, who doesn’t have some salt lying around the house? Put it in a squirt bottle and add some water and you’ve got instant zombie mace! You never know, this tip may one day save your life!

Despite obscure origins and a seemingly ever-changing persona, the undead have clawed and shuffled their way right into the limelight. They’ve gone from being the mindless puppets of voodoo witch-doctors to the embodiment of the apocalypse, and whether you love them or hate them, these ghoulish horrors have staked their claim to fame. So lock your doors and bar your windows, the zombies aren’t going anywhere.

Remember when ghost stories were the height of horror? A time when gray ladies haunted castle lawns and searched endlessly for their lost lovers. The baleful wail of the banshee warned of impending death, and no one would dare set foot in a graveyard at night lest the restless dead claim you as their own.

 Such macabre stories seem to have fallen out of favor with the general public in recent years.

 Nowadays, if classic horror characters aren’t being completely rebooted to satiate the desires of a tween demographic, they are being cast aside entirely, to be replaced by the more gore orientated slashers and psychopaths who place shock value above genuine horror.

 These are well and good in small doses. I myself am a big fan of slasher movies when they are done right, but it would be a shame to lose sight of the golden oldies that chilled our spines long before the over-saturation of the multi-media.

 A perfect example would be the myth of The Flying Dutchman.

 Generations before a certain great white had us afraid to go back in the water, sailors whispered tales of a ghost ship that could never make port.

 From as early as the seventeenth century, sightings of the spectral Man-O-War dominated nautical folklore. It made its first written appearance in chapter six of “A Voyage to Botany Bay” in 1795 and has allegedly been witnessed by countless mariners and people of note such as Prince George of Wales (who later became King George V) and the renowned novelist, Nicholas Monserrat.

 The stories claimed that any ship who unwittingly flagged down the Flying Dutchman would be beseeched by the damned crew to take letters and messages back to shore, to loved ones long since dead. Any who accepted would be doomed to bad luck for voyages to come. For a sailor to suffer from bad luck, to be considered a Jonah, was tantamount to a fate worse than death.

 There have been several theories behind the Flying Dutchman sightings ranging from mirages to optical illusions caused by water refraction, but, in the end, logic and reason hold no sway over a ghost story.

 For as long as there are individuals captivated by the lure of the sea,  the Flying Dutchman will always be there in every sideways glance and in every restless dream.

 That is the kind of classic ghost story we have been missing. That is the kind of story that, when the gore runs dry and we tire of psychos, is destined to make a come back.