/folklore/

When the winter winds blow and the Yule fires are lit, from the north of Scandinavia down to Switzerland, it is best to stay indoors, safely shut away from the dark forest paths and the wild heaths. Those who wander out by themselves during the Yule-nights may hear a sudden rustling through the tops of the trees — a rustling that might be the wind, though the rest of the wood is still. But then the barking of dogs fills the air, with the hunters behind whooping “Wod! Wod!” a man’s voice cries from above, “Midden in dem Weg!” and the host of wild souls sweeps down, fire flashing from the eyes of the black hounds and hooves of the black horses.

In England we have something similar called 'The Wild Hunt Of Woden'
Said to be a spectral horde of hunters that appear on the moor at night led by the chief Anglo Saxon God Woden

I’m from England, I like the massive list of people that are said to lead the Hunt around Europe.

I'd imagine it would be Odin in places like Norway and Denmark although I've heard some suggest King Arthur here in England

Where I come from (Northern Maine) old timers will tell you about snow devils, things that hide between snowflakes and hail stones during blizzards, trying to trick those stuck in the storm off their path, to get lost and frozen in the cold.

Thanks!
Moar

While hunting in Glyn Cuch, Pwyll, prince of Dyfed becomes separated from his companions and stumbles across a pack of hounds feeding on a slain stag. Pwyll drives the hounds away and sets his own hounds to feast, earning the anger of Arawn, lord of the otherworldly kingdom of Annwn. In recompense, Pwyll agrees to taking on Arawn's appearance and trade places with him for a year and a day, and takes his place at Arawn's court. At the end of the year, Pwyll engages in single combat against Hafgan, Arawn's rival, and mortally wounds him with one blow, earning Arawn overlordship of all of Annwn. After Hafgan's death, Pwyll and Arawn meet once again, revert to their old appearance and return to their respective courts. They become lasting friends because Pwyll slept chastely with Arawn's wife for the duration of the year. As a result of Pwyll's successful ruling of Annwn, he earns the title Pwyll Pen Annwfn; "Pwyll, head of Annwn".

Do you know if this stuff comes from Indian lore?

Excellent.
Now, i wonder how i know this is welsh...

I can recommend the Mabinogion where this story comes from, beautiful eerie verse.

Sounds like a very common folk tale, makes sense to warn people from straying from paths in ancient times.

Don't know, maybe. The Mikmaq people are from there, where I grew up. I only heard the story from old white pic-relateds though

Would that be Aroostook?

Witte Wieven (wise women) are the spirits of dead witches or herbalists. They would appear (usually during the early morning mists) around the place they died. These resting places would often be hunebedden (dolmen). They are portrayed in a number of ways, both being brought offerings for blessings and being shunned for witchery and evil. Witte Wieven appear in the folklore of former Saxon land (Eastern Netherlands). Variations of Witte Wieven appear throughout the Netherlands, Belgium and even France (dame blanches)

Bingo

Where do you guys hear this? Are you just telling of stuff you've read, or have some of you heard it from actual people? And where? Out in the countryside?
I've never actually heard any folklore from anyone, just read about it and seen it on TV. No grandparents told me about old magics, or even of things like ghosts in abandoned factories. Feels bad.

In my case >4242061 it's just stuff your dad tells you to scare you. Those mists are extremely common during summer (nearly every morning) so the story is told pretty quickly. Then you do some research (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Witte_Wieven) and realise there are a million different variations on the said story.

I'll need to read a million of these to spook any children I may have. I don't want them to grow up without folklore.

Shit that spooked me as a kid was this
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yde_Girl

We were walking through the forest where they found the bog body and saw a sign that marked the spot where they found it. My dad completely made up some bullshit story but drowning in quicksand or a bog has spooked me ever since throughout my childhood

Strikes me as spooky country, although I've never seen it myself. Is it pretty lonely up there?

Old Northeners are weird and have weird senses of humor, they'll bullshit with you all day if you're at all interested

Very lonely outside of town. Long drives from one town to the next. It can be spooky, if you start thinking in that mindframe. For me it was always pretty comfy. Maine woods are best woods, especially if you cross-country ski.
Fuck this is making me nostalgic.
When there's a lot of snow on the ground, some big pines will have natural igloos at their base- empty space between the lowest level of branches and the ground from the branches acting like an umbrella

I want to hang out in there

The Lobisón is the Argentine version of the werewolf. Some say the legend may have been inspired by sightings of pic related, the freaky-looking South American Maned Wolf (also known as Warrah in English).

Anyway, according to the legend, if a family has 7 male children in a row, the seventh-born son is born with the curse, and is thus destined to turn into a Lobisón during nights of full moon, a feral, gigant wolf with flaming eyes, that eats cattle and people alike.

As a result, in the early 19th century, it was said that some families would abandon the 7th born son because he was cursed. To stop this from happening, it became tradition (and eventually law) that the President of Argentina automatically becomes the Godfather of every 7th born son in the country, giving them a gold medal, and a scholarship. Much like the US President pardoning the Turkey at Thanksgiving, this law continues in the books as a quirky historical tradition, though obviously today there aren't almost any 7th born sons or people believing in the Lobison.

That's a young specimen btw.
They can grow quite large

People have died because of this pic. The tree is full of snow and the snow will fall on you.

I wouldn't suggest living in there long term user, but nobody I know has ever experienced that. I haven't even heard a "my cousin's friend's nephew" story of that happening. Certainly never happened to me. (The white capped pine trees are strikingly beautiful though)

Sounds like a recipe for suffocating under an avalanche desu

A wooden statue of Jesus (Called Black Jesus) washed up on the shores of Portobelo and it's become a huge religious symbol in the village. Story is that the statue was carved in Spain and sent to for Colombia, but a storm caught the ship and it was forced to dock in Portobelo, a popular port at the time of the Spanish Empire. Whenever the ship would try to sail, storms would force it to return to the port. This happened over and over again until the sailors just threw it overboard and went on their merry day.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cristo_Negro_(Portobelo)

Inb4
>WE

Also a Costa Rican tale. The Tulivieja is a feminine phantom that seeks to find her lost baby, because in her lust for a man, she left her baby beside a river and it disappeared. Because of this, she constantly wanders from rural villages to another in search of her baby, attracted by the sound of wailing babies. She would breastfeed them, and sometimes steal them.

She's described like a harpy with a straw hat, low of stature, thick of body, badly dressed,
and with tangled hair. Her chest is bare, revealing her breasts that are so engorged with milk that she's constantly lactating.

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