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Folklore

The Real Identity of Alexandre Dumas’s The Man in the Iron Mask

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In Alexander Dumas’s 1847 novel The Man in the Iron Mask, the three musketeers are once again united to defend honor and the crown. This time, they work together to replace the King of France with his twin brother–the titular Man in the Iron Mask. Yet, while much of this story is literary nonfiction, the kernels of truth are compelling. In fact, there was a real Man in the Iron Mask. With that said, historical mysteries are interesting because when they remain unsolved for centuries, speculation tends to overshadow factual accounts. This is definitely true in the case of the man in the iron mask, who was an unknown figure in history, likely imprisoned for political crimes against King Louis XIV.

France during King Louis XIV’s Rule

During King Louis XIV’s reign in France, there were massive cultural shifts in arts and religion. Meanwhile, the king worked to expand his control over government. At the same time, workers and peons of the kingdom suffered a great deal. According to folkloric tradition, times of strife create engaging stories. As in this case, the aristocracy in the country held a great deal of wealth, while the lower classes were taxed excessively.

There existed a massive wealth gap in the country, and the newly built Palace of Versailles exemplified the extravagance of the administration. There’s nothing quite like pouring out a chamber pot into a dirty street and looking up to see a resplendent castle that you’d never enter in your lifetime. The Palace exemplified rich life, as Louis held lavish feasts and grand balls.

Accordingly, the lower class lived horrible lives of work and toil. They had difficulty obtaining food and lived through cold winters where death lingered just outside the door. Their clothes and homes were drab and they lived in “homely villages.” The lives of the lower class were a plague unto itself.

As stated: “For those who called the Third Estate home in the 17th and 18th century, their state of living was not as desirable as that of the high nobility. Often taken advantage of due to high tax breaks given to the upper nobility, the largest percent of the population was mistreated despite making up the identity of France.”

It is important to highlight the unfairness of this period. This is so because it relates to King Louis’s lack of empathy toward people in French society. The following story shows this to be true.

History of The Man in the Iron Mask

Life and Times

Meanwhile, authorities during King Louis’s reign kept a prisoner in France’s dungeons for 30 years starting in 1669. The prisoner was forced to wear a mask around his head. While the name “The Man in the Iron Mask” is dramatic, it’s very misleading.

Instead of an actual Iron Mask as per images and depictions, he wore a black velvet mask. The creator of the mask had stiffened it with whalebone and used “steel springs which permitted its wearer to breathe, eat, drink, and sleep, without difficulty.” The mask was fastened on the back by a padlock.

J. A. Brendon writes that the prisoner was kept under lock and key. The mask became a part of his everyday life. He writes that, “He slept in it, prayed in it, ate in it; and two musketeers were detailed to shoot him at once should he ever dare to unmask,” Brendon states. “In the end he was buried, still wearing the mask.”

Throughout his life, the crown moved him between prisons that “corresponded with the successive postings of the prison governor Benigne d’Auvergne de Saint-Mars.” The prisoner was not allowed to speak with anybody at great length. The king and governor allowed words exchanged with an attendant to his cell and doctors over matters of health–but that was it as far as communication.

After his death, authorities went through great pains to remove his existence from the world. They scraped his cell of all markings, burned his cell door, along with his clothes, bedding and furniture.

But Who Was the Man in the Iron Mask?

Anna Blackwell writes in an 1860 edition of London’s Once a Week that the prisoner’s demeanor did not reflect the vulgarity and violence that one would suspect of such precautions.

She writes: “M. Nélaton described the masked patient as of dark complexion, possessing a voice so sweet and touching that it could not be heard without awakening sympathy; making no complaint of his position; grave and dignitied in manner, and having the air of a person of distinction: a description which tallies with that which was given of him to Voltaire by the son-in-law of the physician of the Bastille.”

Some sources allege that he was simply an Englishman, or the illegitimate son of Louis XIV known as Duc de Vermandois. Other identities have been hinted at as well, including kinship to Oliver Cromwell, the Duke of Monmouth, and the Duke of Beaufort.

As published in The Illustrated Magazine of Art, the prisoner could only have been “an Italian of the name of Matthioli.” Antonio Matthioli, according to the author, held the position of diplomat to the third Duke of Mantua. His dealings with King Louis resulted in charges of treason when he attempted to negotiate the sale of the fortress Casale to France. After the money for the deal was exchanged, Matthioli informed Spain and the Holy Roman Empire of what has transpired. As some have claimed, this led to his imprisonment as the man in the iron mask.

Regardless of conjecture, historians still debate the identity of the man in the iron mask.

Works Cited

“Matthioli: The Iron Mask.” The Illustrated Magazine of Art, vol. 2, no. 10, 1853, pp. 222–23. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/20538126. Accessed 11 Feb. 2025.

Brendon, J.A. “The Man in the Iron Mask.” Historical Periodical. Feb. 1922.

Blackwell, Anna. “The Man in the Iron Mask.” Once a Week, vol. 3, Iss. 61, 25 Aug. 1860.

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The Ferocious Ogres of Folklore and Myth

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According to folklore, Ogres are, in fact, not like onions. That is, while they actually do have layers, they are far more terrifying than their portrayals in media. For instance, ogres come in many shapes and sizes. This includes their description in famous literature, to their awesome power in roleplaying games.

History and Interpretations of Ogres

Ogres are often described as “hideous giants” that eat humans and come from folkloric stories passed through communities. As such, there are many depictions of the ogre monster. For example, the giants in Homer’s Odyssey and the giants in Jack and the Beanstalk.

However, their title comes from French or Italian etymology, and seems to relate to orgo or orco (“demon”). There is also some relation to mythological figures, such as Orcus. Moreover, there is a connection to the “cyclops of myth and heroic literature.” They share many of the same physical traits: large, carnivorous, and violent. These attributes define the modern view of the ogre. It also seems to set it apart from, say, your run-of-the-mill cyclops or giant.

Ogres Appearances in Folklore

Meanwhile, we see various interpretations of the ogre in Tales of Mother Goose. Specifically in the stories “Tom Thumb,” “Hansel and Gretel,” and “Little Red Riding Hood.” In the latter, the ogre-like wolf attempts to consume the heroine of the story.

As Cambridge Dictionary states (and others), ogres are “a large frightening character in children’s stories who eats children” (Cambridge). The cannibalistic or at least flesh-eating inclinations of the ogre seem to steer it toward a more taboo-breaking creature, as a giant (say from “Jack and the Beanstalk”) doesn’t necessarily want to eat people, but would rather stay in its high castle.

Furthermore, the fairytale “Puss in Boots,” the protagonist, Master Puss, embarks on an adventure and encounters a castle that was under the ownership of an ogre.

“He was the richest ogre that had ever been known, for all the lands through which the king had passed were part of the castle domain,” the story states. The ogre allows Master Puss to come into the castle and reveals that he can shape change into many different animals. Master Puss tricks the ogre into changing into a mouse, and he then gobbles up the ogre in his hubris.

Ogres Appearances in Modern Media

Likewise, the terrifying ogre of Dungeons and Dragons fame is described as a “hulking giant” that is “notorious for (its) quick temper.” An ogre “lashes out in a frustrated tantrum until it runs out of objects or creatures to smash” (D&D). If you’ve ever fought one of these pea-brained monster in Dungeons and Dragons, then you know they are difficult combatants. They have a lot of hit points, and the ability to smash your character into a pink mist.

Lastly, and as hinted at, the most well-known modern interpretation comes in the classic kids-film Shrek, where the ogre is a big, green, and soft-hearted monster who lives in a swamp. Shrek stands in contrast to what we know of the ogre–for the most part–as it seems as though his monstrous personality is just a front to keep villagers away from his home.

Conclusion

Ogres, as with most monsters of folklore, aren’t just one thing. Think about vampires. How many stories are there that characterize vampires in different lights? From the viscous Vlad the Impaler to the sensual Lestat de Lioncourt from Anne Rice’s 1976 novel Interview with the Vampire, to the horrifying nightmare child in John Ajvide Lindqvist’s 2004 novel Let the Right One In.

Much in the same way, we find overlap in the ogres’ stories with that of other monsters, from the werewolf’s often lumbering persona to a zombie’s insatiable bloodlust. All of this to say: maybe ogres really are more complicated than we acknowledge.

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The Boggart, Folklore’s Little Prankster

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There are many iterations of violent cryptids out to harm humanity throughout folklore. You have your dragons, medusas, ogres, and vampires. Sometimes, though, you have some annoying but helpful ones. The Brownie in Scottish mythology is one of them, and so is this post’s topic: the Boggart.

History of the Boggart

In a traditional sense, a Boggart is anything supernatural in nature. This includes ghouls on the moors and spirits in the night. The creature is a short and smelly monster covered in hair, like a miniature bigfoot. Its very presence seems to be of ill-tidings for families. It has the ability to make the household pets run in fear and one’s milk to sour on its own. Imagine Death himself walking by a flower and watching it turn gray and die. That’s like a boggart, but with curdled milk.

The Boggart’s first appearance was in Traditions of Lancashire by John Roby. In it, Roby discusses the Boggart’s nefarious attitude toward a farmer and his family.

Roby writes that the Boggart antagonized the family “with numerous pranks.” The Boggart took the children’s food, threw their drink on the ground, and even scared them at night. Outside of Roby’s research, Boggarts are also known to play many more tricks on people. For instance, they rip the sheets off people while they are sleeping. They also lay their cold hands on them and pinch them.

Even if you and your family are sick of these little fellows, you can’t easily rid yourself of their menace. They typically follow families from place to place.

Conclusion

There seems to be only one way to rid a Boggart. This includes hanging a horseshoe upside down over a doorway to prevent their presence in your home. Nevertheless, though the Boggart has its own folklore, there are some discrepancies as to what the creature is actually. It may just be a spirit or a little gremlin from a dark fantasy film. A hobgoblin? Maybe all of these things!

However, the Boggart does serve a purpose. If it is a bothersome pest in some area, it might just be a protector. Likewise, it offers a convenient excuse for kids to act nicely because the Boggart was a tool of intimidation. That is, children were more apt to act nicer if they knew a little hairy beast was watching. Either way, whether dastardly or helpful, the Boggart is truly a wonderfully strange creature.

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Wendigo Analysis: Origin, Description, and Symbolism

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The cold and forbidding forests of Canada and Northern Michigan are home to a plethora of natural wonders. Surely, the frozen landscape is beautiful enough. But when the winter wind howls and the trees crack–surely something evil creeps in the frightful dark. In Indigenous cultures, the beast goes by the name “wendigo.” This post will analyze the lore around this monstrous creature and see how the strength of folklore influences culture and history to this day.

The Origins of the Wendigo

The most pressing connotation of the wendigo is that of the abominable snowman—lurking in snowy forests in secluded regions around the world. However, as mentioned, the wendigo (or windigo) actually materialized out of the First Nations tribes in Canada, or Algonquin folklore.

Some sources tells us that the windigo “legend existed in Algonquian oral history for many centuries,” and previous to the arrival of Europeans on the continent. In 1722, a “French traveler Bacqueville de la Potherie” recorded the first appearance of the word, but it appeared as “Onaouientagos.” Explorers did not understand the portentous nature of the beast at the time. Nonetheless, through oral storytelling and sightings we now are more familiar with an abominable snowman-type beast.

Physical Description

Researchers have described the monster in a variety of ways. However, there is consistency to these descriptions.

Oftentimes, stories portrayed the beast as having “glowing eyes, long yellowed fangs, terrible claws and (a) long tongue.” This description provides a terrifying picture of the monster. As reported, the beast is a violent creature with “yellowish skin” and one that is “matted with hair or (has) decaying skin,” which gives me the impression of a large, rabid dog.

As described by Legends of America, the wendigo is a “monster with some human characteristics” and it has been “historically associated with cannibalism, murder, insatiable greed, and cultural taboos against such behaviors,” which paints a menacing portrait.

The Wendigo: A Symbolic Meaning

Explaining Madness

On the surface, the wendigo’s existence is that of a horrible monster, often huge and ravenous, menacing the frozen forests of the North. But connotatively, we have something far more nuanced. The wendigo is a representation of natural phenomena and the danger of nature. It is the wind, the trees, the hills…the snow.

When not representative of nature, the wendigo embodies the aforementioned characteristics of greed, cannibalism, and murder: “… the word also functions symbolically to connote gluttony and the ‘image of excess’” writes Marlene Goldman in “Rewriting Apocalypse in Canadian Fiction.” When new arrivals emerged from Europe, a straightforward way to explain their xenophobic, homicidal mania was to liken it to a beast of legend: why else would the invaders be so ruthless and bloodthirsty?

In addition to that, the legend of the wendigo explains a community member’s unexplained madness and violence. An uncle murdered your aunt and cut her to bits? If he had never even seemed remotely violent, wouldn’t that confound your relatives and the community at large? Why not suggest that the supernatural is plausible in a society that worshipped both spirits in a variety of forms?

Furthermore, as posited by Katarzyna Jusiak in “The Embodiment of the Taboo: The Images of Wendigo in Literature and Their Rendition in Modern Media.,” the wendigo is a multifaceted creature whose appearance, and meaning, is dependent on the presenter, whether that be the Canadian image, which adheres to a “traditional image known from oral culture,” or the image of the wendigo as a predator, “preying on grief of those who lost someone loved instead of the necessity of devouring human meat in the wilderness…” (Jusiak 31).

Remember: the cultures of days gone, whether those of antiquity or even farther back, needed to explain the world to their children through an oral medium. These could be Indigenous cultures or settlers establishing a state. Thus, creating a boogeyman helped people understand the bad-faith actors in other societies and their own. These people who were feverishly destroying cultures and propagating a new narrative of civilized life could only be literal monsters.

Explaining Imperialism

Aptly, in an article title “Boogie Men” on Mohawk Nation News, writer kahntineta writes that the Windigo is “sick because it’s cut off from its roots” and that “its hunger knows no bounds … When it sees something, it wants to own it.”

The author refers to this thirst as “Windigo Psychosis” or “Owistah disease.” While researchers hotly debate this idea, the terminology is in reference to despicable characteristics in humanity. For instance, the insatiable lust for destruction that resulted in the genocide of Indigenous cultures. And the violence that occurred to people when imperialism came to the shores of North America.

With that said, it is clear that the wendigo is not just a literal snow beast that lives in the snowy parts of the world. Rather, it is a metaphor for the actions committed by a person or society that commits violence and atrocities. In other words, those who murder, or rape, or cannibalize another’s life or community has the Wendigo disease–literally or figuratively. So, societies afflicted with this psychosis allow genocide and the mass destruction of cultural heritage.

“They (settlers) were unchained from the morality of human feeling,” kahntineta states.

Conclusion

It is my belief that symbolism is heavy in the hands of the believer, whether they know it or not. What I mean by this is that believers in supernatural ghosts, goblins, and werewolves—possess a particularly important interpretation of the world. This interpretation symbolizes reality and places it into a contextual framework.

At first, one might say that this is a dangerous outlook. Belief in the unverifiable attaches itself to conspiracy or downright lunacy. However, respect for folklore and oral tradition can create a sort of unintentional explanation of reality. That is to say, the Bigfoot can represent the rejection of a peremptory government, and the Paulding Light represents our society’s reverence for the dead. Sure, we can believe that these phenomena are real, but that does not create any new understanding for society. It just creates mystery, but that is not the point of folklore. We can either believe in a ten-foot-tall monster that roams the Canadian outback, or we can understand that these uncertainties echo the horrors of history.

The wendigo embodies the worst, most fragmented aspects of our culture. Yet, it also forces us to reflect on those aspects to aspire to greater heights of humanity and morality.

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Folklore: The Ghost of Michigan’s Charles Hackley

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States all have their fare share of ghosts, from the phantom soldiers in Gettysburg, PA, to the ghost of Uncle Charlie in IA. Michigan has its host of specters as well. The ghost of Charles Hackley, for instance, still haunts parts of Muskegon. Hackley, a successful business man and investor in the city, has been seen in spectral form in public and private buildings on multiple occasions throughout the years. As it stands, his legacy in life was grand, but so was it in death.

Biography

Charles Henry Hackley was a lumber baron and philanthropist who, by all accounts, loved Muskegon, MI, with all his heart. Hackley was born on Jan. 2, 1837 in Indiana. As stated in the annals of Hackley history, the family came to Michigan with only $7 to their name. At 15 years old, Hackley worked on roadways in Michigan, which were in their infancy. Afterward, he took to lumbering and learned a few new trades. These included “saw milling” and the “buying and selling of pine trees.” Eventually, he owned his own company and became a prominent producer of lumber boards, something to the effect of 30 million boards per year.

After a long career in the lumber field, Hackley took to philanthropy by investing in Muskegon. First, he helped bring both the Brunswick, Central Paper Co, and Continental Motors to the city. Then, he put money into the library, hospital, and other buildings in the city. With such attention to the city’s prosperity, Hackley’s investments created thousands of jobs. He also supplied substantial monetary gifts to the city. Some sources report that it was at least one-third of his wealth.

Hackley himself has been quoted as stating: ” … I believe that it should be expended during the lifetime of the donor, so that he can see that his benefactions do not miscarry and are according to his intent … I agree with Mr. Carnegie … that it is a crime to die rich.”

While Charles Hackley died on Jan. 10, 1905, some have claimed that his interest in the city remains ardent and supportive. So much so that witnesses say that he still makes appearances in Muskegon from beyond the grave.

The Ghostly Appearances of Charles Hackley

The most notable examples of the ghost of Charles Hackley appearing around Muskegon are in the Hackley Public Library. Witnesses to his spectral presence have claimed multiple hauntings. For instance, people have seen him sitting in a chair and reading a book during the late hours, flipping through pages to occupy his time in the afterlife. Library visitors have also witnessed books flying off shelves as if by unseen hands. Still, others have seen a ghostly figure disappear while crossing through solid walls in a hurry toward its next haunt. Some investigators have also felt “a presence” on the second floor. There, glass panels beneath visitors already make for an interesting experience. As such, transparency in this room is both tangible and ethereal.

While the library certainly boasts a wealth of spiritual encounters, the ghost of Charles Hackley has been spotted in other parts of the city as well. In fact, sightings include in the lumberman’s own home. One woman, Carol Williams, claimed to have seen the spectral appearance of a trio of ghosts late one evening. As stated in the book Ghost Legends of Michigan’s West Coast by Amberrose Hammond, Williams identified Hackley in an old photo while at a house she was staying in nearby. After the sighting, she went to a museum and identified that Hackley had been the one she had seen.

“Carol told the museum worker what had happened, and the older woman responded, ‘Oh there’s always Charles Hackley sightings in the downtown area …'” Hammond writes (p. 72).

Hackley certainly made his rounds in life with massive investments in Muskegon. In death, it seems, he wishes to continue to make spiritual deposits through supernatural visitation.

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Folklore: The Paulding Light in Michigan

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Folklore is graced with a fantastical flavor, which makes it so interesting, whether that be Zeus throwing lightning bolts at frightened peasantry, or Johnny Appleseed walking clear across the country to keep fruit alive in the hearts of the American people.

Folklore is often far-fetched—and can strain credulity—but it remains magical and joyous, and revealing, nonetheless. Oftentimes, folklore brings with it the revelation of history, community, and memory. In other words, folklore tells us about the world around us and tries to answer the why question about all the things we don’t understand.

The Paulding Light in Michigan is a folkloric tale that is actually rife in all three qualities of history, community, and memory, even though its scientific explanation has more to do with optical illusion than ghosts and spirits. Today, we are going to look into the strange light(s) in Paulding to examine its roots and why it fits within the realm of folklore.

Where is Paulding?

Paulding, MI, is located in the Upper Peninsula of the great mitten state. If you live in Michigan, then you know the U.P. feels like its own little world due to sociological and economical differences between its population and the population of the Lower Peninsula. Rural vs urban and all that.

Pure Michigan writes that Paulding is a “tiny place” that is located in the “Ottawa National Forest” that was once a “busy sawmill town surrounded by logging activity” (Michigan). It is a place where “Power lines and a service road cut straight through the trees as far back as the hills will let you see…” (Mitten). You can certainly get lost there (as you can with most of the U.P.), and the sounds of nature in an untapped world are oftentimes sobering….and a little scary. 

Folklore lives and breathes in these areas, whether it be Bigfoot in Ogemaw County, the Dogman in Wessex County, or the lights in Paulding.

History of the Paulding Light

In this rural location, the ghostly light has appeared time and time again to mystify and enamor the population of the small town. The light appears in a valley near Robbins Pond Road and seemingly weaves and bobs through the air at a power line break in the trees.  

While the initial discovery of the light was in 1966 by a group of students, the foundational stories of the (often nightly) light seem to suggest older roots. As with most folklore, we have multiple stories explaining why something exists or why a particular event happens. The Paulding Light is no different.

In one story, a brakeman dies attempting to stop a train from hitting railway cars along the track, and this story of sadness is one rife in folklore. Lost love, sacrifice, or a miscarriage of justice fills the belly of these tales. According to the Detroit Free Press, this is the “official” legend of the Paulding Light, but the stories explaining what people are actually seeing do not end there:

In another story, a mail carrier’s spirit haunts the valley, while yet another suggests that it’s an Indian spirit dancing on the power lines. More supernatural theories suggest another story of loss.

“Some claim it’s the distraught spirit of a grandparent looking for a lost grandchild with a lantern that needs constant relighting, the reason the light seems to come and go” (Carlisle).

Regardless of what it is, the Paulding Light fits within the realm of maintaining historical and communal value to individuals and citizens in any given area. In other words, no matter what story one believes, whether that be of a brakeman or a grieving grandparent, the Paulding Light fits a historical narrative for a small community. It addresses the town’s history and the reverence that the community pays homage to in the modern era. In other words, oral storytellers can tell passersby about the railway that ran through Paulding, or about how Native Americans once thrived in the area.

Possible explanations

For the skeptical, the Paulding Light is nothing more than an anomaly caused by optical and photonic illusions. PhD students at the Michigan Technological University used a variety of tests to conclude that the lights were reflections from passing cars.  

Students “created the light themselves” by driving a vehicle along US-45, where “Its passage correlated exactly with Paulding Light appearances” (Goodrich).  

Jeremy Bos, one of the researchers at Michigan Tech studying the Paulding Light, said, ““The whole goal wasn’t to rain on anybody’s parade … We have myths and fables and they’re valuable to us as humans and there’s no reason the Paulding light can’t be one of those…”

History is important and so is folklore. No matter if there is a logical or empirical explanation for any phenomenon, there are roots to explanation and justification that tie into cultural understanding. That is, we learn from each other, and about society, through the stories we tell. 

Conclusion

Bos’s attempts to answer questions about the Paulding Light were met with both positive and negative statements from the population—but there is a reason for both attitudes. Folklore is a powerful tool of explanation and when it has entered our brains to provide some “truth” whether factual or not, we gravitate to this understanding as a means of liberation from ignorance.

Stories of a brakeman dying to save a train cart explain not only the Paulding Light, itself, but also how death extends into life—no sacrifice is left unseen. In the case of Paulding, folklore keeps the history of the community alive (logging and lumber) and provides the population with a meaningful mystery that explains their identity and themselves to the world.

Works Cited

Carlisle, John. “Mysterious light draws thrill seekers up to a U.P. Forest.” Detroit Free Press. Sept. 4, 2016. Web: https://www.freep.com/story/news/columnists/john-carlisle/2016/09/04/mysterious-paulding-light-upper-peninsula-michigan/89275134/

Goodrich, Marcia. “Just in time for Halloween: Michigan Tech Students Solve the Mystery of the Paulding Light.” Michigan Tech. Michigan Technological Institute. Oct. 28, 2010. Web: https://www.mtu.edu/news/2010/10/just-time-for-halloween-michigan-tech-students-solve-mystery-paulding-light.html

Mitten, Awesome. “Michigan Urban Legends to Tell Around the Campfire.” Pure Michigan | Official Travel & Tourism Website for Michigan, 26 July 2022, michigan.org/article/trip-idea/michigan-urban-legends-tell-around-campfire.

“Paulding.” Pure Michigan. Michigan.org. Web: https://www.michigan.org/city/paulding

Folklore

The Buggy Woman of Crawford Bridge

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Bridges have a place in literature and folklore, from Ichabod Crane’s flight from the Headless Horseman in Washington Irving’s “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” (based on folklore from the Hudson Valley), to the bridge in Ambrose Bierce’s fatalist short story “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge.” The Buggy Woman of Crawford Road Bridge also has a horror element.

History

In Michigan, bridge’s have history, too. This includes the Mackinac Bridge that joins the Lower Peninsula to the Upper Peninsula, where some workman died tinkering during the final days of its construction, and Hell’s Bridge in Algoma Township, where the ghosts of dead children supposedly haunt the waters of the Rogue River.

The Crawford Road Bridge has its own folkloric story of sadness and death. It comes in the form of the Buggy Woman of Crawford Road. The bridge lies southeast of Cass City in Michigan, and according to legend a woman attempted to cross it in her buggy, got too close to the edge, and dumped her vehicle over and upside down. The buggy trapped the young woman underneath in two-foot-deep water, and though she fearfully called for help to anybody within earshot, nobody arrived to save her.

Modern Buggy Woman Hauntings

In modern times, no bridge exists, but it is said that on foggier days, people can still hear the cries and pleas for help from the young woman near where the former bridge existed. What is more, some witnesses have claimed a spectral hand rose up from the side of the road to flag them down.

Still, other people have seen a woman in period-specific clothing wandering down the road toward them–her clothes soaked in water. While horrifying, it’s a reminder to be careful where you tread lest you dump your buggy over–or run into an anguished specter from the past. 

Folklore

Exploring Folklore Around the Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb

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While now considered erroneous, it was once plausible to believe that the mummies of Ancient Egypt sought revenge from beyond the grave through a curse. A mummy’s curse to be correct. In some circles, these curses are still very real, while to others they are no more than coincidental correlation. Nonetheless, Egyptian curses still inspire wonder and spectacle today.

The Mummy’s Curse

The term “Mummy’s Curse” is idiomatic, serving as a common expression to explain a complex idea. Death, the honor of burial, and the desecration of a tomb being the complex idea. That is to say, those buried–typically private citizens–sought extra protection for their tombs. Writing cryptic messages on a wall for superstitious folk worked well to deter graverobbers, and, therefore, the tomb was safe.

Yet, some curses persist in small ways here and there across Egypt. For instance, the tomb of Ankhtifi states that any ruler who so disturbs the tomb will be punished (albeit punitively) by the deity Hemen. Meanwhile, Khentika Ikhekhi’s tomb warns that trespassers will feel be strangled by Ikhekhi’s own hands “like a bird.”

The earliest recorded encounter with a mummy comes from a 1699 account of a traveler who brought two mummies to Alexandria. Two spirits than haunted him, causing dangerous waters for him while sailing. The cataclysmic reaction of his misdeed (mummy theft), forced him to throw the corpses overboard.

King Tut’s Curse

Perhaps the most famous, and the one I was familiar with included King Tut’s curse. In his day, he was known as Tutankhamen and he died at the age of 19 years old. Buried in the Valley of Kings in Egypt, incoming rulers discarded his tomb and it became lost to history.

Archeologist Howard Carter and financier George Herbert, 5th earl of Carnarvon, had no qualms about investigating King Tut’s tomb. His tomb was considered dangerous due to existing warnings: “Do not disturb this resting place lest ye be harmed.” Unfortunately, according to lore, they should have listened to the literal writings on the wall, because death assailed all those who entered.

As Britannica writes: “Inside his small tomb, the king’s mummy lay within a nest of three coffins, the innermost of solid gold, the two outer ones of gold hammered over wooden frames. On the king’s head was a magnificent golden portrait mask …”

Lord Carnarvon died of blood poisoning shortly afterward from a mosquito bite. Then, his brother reportedly succumbed to sepsis, supposedly due to the curse on his sibling. Additionally, another member of the expedition experienced both a house fire and a flooding. And, George Jay Gould, an American railroad executive, visited the tomb and then died of pneumonia.

The Reality of the Mummy’s Curse

According to researchers and scientists, the mummy’s curse is no more than either a fungal growth or happenstance. Some researchers attribute the supposed curse to Aspergillus flavus, a mold found in tombs that can infect human lungs.

Tim Newcomb wrote in Popular Mechanics in 2023 that “The latest fungal scare came this year in Mexico City, when The Mummies of Guanajuato again went on a traveling display, with experts concerned the mummies weren’t properly sealed off from the viewing public. An improper viewing event could lead to additional fungal exposure.”

At the same time, the British Medical Journal conducted a study in 2002 that said, statistically, there is little relationship between King Tut’s mummy curse and the death of those who entered it on expedition. Lord Carnarvon, in this instance, was probably just “chronically ill” and so died of natural causes related to his ailments. There is similar research connected to The Bermuda Triangle as not being statistically significant as far as the rate of accidents.

Finally, researchers note that the mummy’s curse also originates in literature. These examples include Louisa May Alcott’s short story “Lost in a Pyramid: The Mummy’s Curse.” Other stories may have originated from tales by Joseph Smith, a U.S. painter. Fiction stories do have a lasting power and imprint on our understanding of reality, so it should go without saying that these stories may have changed public perceptions.

Regardless, the story of the mummy’s curse still persists. We see it in Hollywood movies to this day, and people still imagine the dangers of exploring the darkest depths of a Pharaoh’s pyramid.

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Folklore: The Horrific Crimes of the Sawney Bean Family

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If you have ever seen The Hills Have Eyes (1977) or Wrong Turn (2003) then you have some background knowledge as it relates to the contents of this post. Why? Because it features a deranged family, murder, and cannibalism in the form of the Sawney Bean Family.

I first became aware of such a horrific folk/true crime tale from the excellent book Strange Tales by Alex Hamer. A short chapbook of legends, myths, and folktales. Hamer wrote about the Sawney Bean family along with other crippling tales of murder and violence. One story included a butcher who killed people in his town and turned them into sausage.

The tale of the Sawney Bean family is documented as follows.

History of the Sawney Bean Family

Bean’s Lazy Impetus

It was the Ayrshire coast of Scotland in the 15th century, and times were tough. The Scottish people were poor and famished and lawlessness ruled. Money and food were hard to come by, but Sawney Bean had a plan to correct these deficits.

Sawney had been the son of a hedger and a ditcher near Edinburgh. Sawney disliked working and so ran away from his family’s trade. He met a woman named Agnes Douglas and ventured off into the wilds with her. They either wanted to live in rustic fashion or to take advantage of the locals. Fortunately, they ran into the border area of Scotland, which had its share of rogues and scoundrels at every turn.

Surely, Sawney Bean and Agnes Douglas’s crimes would fit right in with the rest.

Murder Spree in the Hills

More specifically, Sawney and Agnes moved to the Scottish hills between Girvan and Ballantrae and on the Galloway shores. He and Agnes established themselves as a cutthroats and robbers. They collected the purses of the dead after braining them on the countryside road. As well, they took the bodies back to their abode, which was a cave of degenerate squalor. They picked the bones with the rest of his family. A family that was manufactured through inbreeding.

It seems that if you could commit a sin, Sawney Bean would pursue it to its fullest, and there they sinned for 25 years. In those years, they reared a clan of children and grandchildren. According to lore, Bean and family killed more than 1,000 people. Many, if not all, were ambushed and slaughtered for the satisfaction and nourishment of the murderous family.

The Beginning of the End for Sawney Bean

Two of the victims, however, were a young couple returning home from a festival. The Beans killed the woman first, which drove the man to frenzy. Either through adrenaline, combat skills, or pure vengeance, the man was able to drive the Bean family back and into the hills.

A crowd had formed and many bore witness to the family’s depraved appearance. Soon enough, stories of the murder and of the vile family spread. King James of Scotland came to investigate, led by bloodhounds and 400 men. The search party discovered the cave, where money, personal items, and body parts lay scattered across the floor. The gruesome site forever etched itself into the minds of those attendees.

Capital Crimes

After the Bean family was discovered, a fight took place, which drove liberating forces back. However, they returned with much vigor and apprehended the family of maddened cannibals and murderers. They were brought to Edinburgh where they were kept in a tolbooth. After their trial, authorities dispatched the Bean family by burning the women and children and cutting off the hands and feet of the men so that they would bleed to death.

Conclusion

There is no proof that Sawney Bean or his crazed family ever existed, but his story is definitely a memorable one. As with all folklore, there are a few ways to interpret the Bean legacy. One way is on the surface, as Bean and his clan were historic figures and a dark time had plagued Scotland. After all, stories of violence and murder are often of national interest; that is to say, ghost stories in Washington are just as interesting as ghost stories in Michigan.

The other way to read the Sawney Bean story is to read it as an “anti-Scottish story,” and as some have posited, it does seem to be a good piece of propaganda against the Scots.

“The English and Scots had no love for each other,” writes Tom Doran in “In the Lair of the Cannibal King.” “The English considered the Scots horrible barbarians who couldn’t even speak English–so pushing their contempt one step further into cannibalism seem not much of a stretch.”

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6 American Folklore Creatures You Should Know

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There are many American folklore creatures from the east to west coast. They include anything from Bigfoot to the Jersey Devil. Let’s take a look at some of the creatures in the United States that currently inhabit the forests, cities, farms, shores, and closets of the country.

1. The Legendary Bigfoot

The legendary Bigfoot is one of American and indigenous folklore. It has its origins in Native American cultures from Michigan to California. Sometimes its aggressive, and sometimes its pleasant. The modern interpretation arose in Humboldt County, California in 1958. Local journalists took it upon themselves to tell tale of the beast whose footprints had been found in the nearby wilds. Regardless of Bigfoot’s appearance or where it came from, it’s always hairy and loves to play hide and seek.

2. The Mothman

The Mothman is a cryptid from West Virginia folklore that focuses on foreboding warnings and signs of ill-tidings. Originating sometime around 1966, a couple spotted the Point Pleasant creature. Afterward, its existence spread like wildfire. Later, this giant-sized moth would become the topic for The Mothman Prophecies (1975) by John Keel. This novel set its legacy into stone. Sightings of the Mothman, much like Detroit’s Nain Rouge, allegedly foretell bad news. This could include death or disaster.

3. Jersey Devil

The Jersey Devil spawned from the loins of one Deborah Leeds. Literally. The demon was the 13th offspring of Ms. Leeds who cursed it as being a “devil.” The child was just as devilish as imagined and had hooves, wings, a tail, and a goat’s head. Witnesses have spotted the Jersey Devil throughout history. These sightings include a 1700s account around Hanover Mill Works. Commodore Stephen Decatur claimed to have seen it flying through the air. Later, Napolean’s older brother, Joseph Bonaparte saw the creature in 1820. Even later, victims of livestock maimings spotted it in 1840. There are many more sightings of the Jersey Devil and there continue to be many more to this day.

4. Chupacabra: Creature or Dog?

The Chupacabra comes in many forms. It’s either an alien-reptile hybrid, or just an alien…or its some kind of dog-alien-reptile hybrid. While the debate rages on as to what it is exactly, it’s certainly pervasive in southern US states. First sightings of the creature come from March of 1995 in Puerto Rico by Madelyne Tolentino. Afterward, the Chupacabra has been sighted many places elsewhere around the country and the world. It is often depicted as a lizard-alien hybrid, but some have claimed it may just be a dog with mange.

5. The Montauk Monster

The Montauk Monster is interesting because there’s only really one sighting, and that involves its dead corpse. The creature, which was a deformed animal carcass, was found near the business district of Montauk, New York in 2008. Pictures of the abomination exploded through the local news and the internet. Soon enough, questions as to its existence became pressing in cryptozoological circles. Meanwhile, conspiracists believe the creature came from experiments conducted at the Montauk Air Force Station in Montauk, New York.

6. The Bogeyman

The big man. The haunter of all dreams. The Ne’er-do-well from Hell (okay I made all those up). Aka, the bogeyman. He is maybe one of the more important American folklore creatures and comes in many iterations. Yet, it’s always from under one’s bed or from their closet it seems. Parents used the bogeyman, and have used the bogeyman, for a long time to scare children into submission. Characteristically, the Bogeyman is a shapeless, dark creature. This is fitting as it’s supposed to take form in a child’s imagination (gibbering mouth full of razor-sharp teeth? check).

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Folklore: Iowa’s Rotting Remains of Uncle Charlie in Urbandale

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It’s actually a horror trope in films nowadays when somebody takes a picture and comes back to it days later to find a horrible figure lurking in the background. Like Stephen King’s 1990 novella “The Sun Dog,” one only witnesses the changes in hindsight. As it relates to Uncle Charlie of Urbandale, if one wants to see him, then they may only catch a glimpse in pictures.

Undead Uncle Charlie sightings

Though Iowa has a great many strange and supernatural stories to its name, one stands out as being relatively, well, creepy: Uncle Charlie. The ghoul, as it were, appears in the forests of Urbandale, Ioway. There, he photobombs people’s pictures, but only after somebody takes the photo, which adds to the eeriness factor. He doesn’t look at all pleasant either: his face is ghostly pale and he is bloodied and mutilated. 

“ … people have seen him hanging out in the corners of the pictures,” writes Lillian Schmid for Tiger Hi-Line Online. “Deep in the night, people report sounds of running in the woods, along with high-pitched screams.” 

According to some sources, an elementary student spotted Uncle Charlie staring into her bedroom window. Though questionable, it’s still spooky. Likewise, and because he invisible to the eye (but not photo lens), one may feel his cold hands on them when they are wandering alone. Meanwhile, some claim that their bedsheets have ripped off of them for no apparent reason. Uncle Charlie at it again, one can only imagine. 

Publisher Micahel Swanger wrote in the Iowa History Journal that stories like Uncle Charlie is kept up in the community because it’s both “colorful” and because such things are “reinforced” during the fall season. In speaking about these stories, he writes: “They tend to appeal to our natural curiosity that perhaps, just perhaps, such unsupported notions truly exist,” and later, “You can choose what you want to believe depending on your belief system, but keep your wits about you when sorting fact from fiction” (Swanger). 

As to who Uncle Charlie of Urbandale actually is–we may never know. If you happen to have more specific details, please put them in the comments!

If you would like to read more about ghosts and spirits, read about Ohio’s Rogues Hollow here.

Sources

Shmid, Lillian. “Iowa’s oldest haunts: Check out the ghoulest ghost stories.” The Tiger Hi-Line Online, Cedar Falls High School Journalism, 28 Oct. 2016. 

Swanger, Michael. “Publisher’s Perspective: Urban myths, legends and folklore abound during the Halloween Holiday.” Iowa History Journal, vol. 15, issue 5, Oct. 2023. 

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The Dark Legends of Rogues Hollow, Ohio

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I seem to remember watching black and white images of men wearing bandanas over their faces as they raced on horseback toward their hideout after a successful bank/train robbery. A lot of that imagery comes from schools that uses TVs on a carts, I think. Nothing would actually compare to the real deal that was Rogues Hollow, Ohio.

Either way, some of these thieves’ dens *did* exist in history. Moreover, some of them actually have fairly sordid histories themselves (who would’ve guessed?). Rogues Hollow in Ohio is one such place. While it has been claimed to be “one of Ohio’s most haunted areas,” it for sure has an idiosyncratic history to go along with its nefarious attendants (State).

History of the Hollow

Founded as “Nibara” and later as “Pleasant Valley,” Rogues Hollow emerged from coal mining in the area. The eventual proliferation of a commercial mine(s) created a large swath of industry and work. Much akin to my own home state of Michigan’s lumber industry, consequences did happen. As such, the coal boom saw an influx of drunkenness and recklessness, which led to violence. 

As stated by Wayne County Public Library (WCPL): “Rogues Hollow was known as one of the nation’s toughest spot(s). The wildest period of the Hollow was in the 1860s and 1870s.” It was a “lively” place during these times, and there was allegedly violent encounters that included the usual fixings of a criminal empire, from murders to moonshining, to robberies and counterfeiting. In addition to this, it has been written that during the fall months ghosts and spirits make their way to the living. 

Hauntings in Rogues Hollow

The WCPL further writes that people have claimed to have seen “the devil riding a headless horse, twin ghosts, dancing picks and shovels, shadowy men working in coal mines and the old man with a beard in the haunted mill…” (WCBL) Yet, there are a myriad other spectral encounters, including a roaring ghost train, crying babies just off the Cry Baby Bridge, and the wandering ghosts of coal miners. 

Meanwhile, in an article published by The Bryan Times in 1980, journalist Ed Heinke wrote that “Most of the time, a mist seems to envelop the area, clinging to the trees. On certain nights when they say the ghosts walk, there is a glow on the bushes between the trees.”

Rogues Hollow doesn’t seem like the quaintest place to visit on Earth, but it sure has a fascinating history. 

Sources

  1. “The Ohio Ghost Story That Will Leave You Absolutely Baffled.” Only in Your State, Oct. 31, 2017. 
  2. “Rogues Hollow.” Wayne County Public Library, Web.
  3. Heinke, Ed. “Rogue’s Hollow: ghost town.” *The Bryan Times*, 12 May, 1980, p.2.
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Folklore: The Botched Destruction of a Vampire on Mykonos

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When I was a kid, I had a book about vampires that explored a host of different undead lore. Also, how to stop vampires in their tracks. This book also mentioned some real-life examples of vampire slayings. As with many types of folkloric creatures, the monster in the following tale may inform us about more than the horror of the undead. Here is an interesting tale of one such re-killing that involves a vampire on Mykonos.

The Botanist Versus the Vampire on Mykonos

Our story begins in 1701 with Joseph Pitton de Tournefort. As a botanist, he took to traveling often, researching the world around him. It was on the Greek islands and Constantinople when he happened upon the story of an unruly, late-night vampire on Mykonos. Keep in mind: Tournefort was a rational man who just happened upon some events that were currently unfolding. These events would probably damage his view of humans for the rest of his life.

The body in question belonged to a local peasant citizens saw wandering the town in the evenings. They claimed he walked in an unusual way. That is to say, he had been alive, but had recently taken to performing actions that only living people normally take.

“In his writings, the botanist (Tournefort) describes that at first the man turned (undead) was nothing more than a nuisance, sneaking up on people from behind, stealing their alcohol and overturning furniture,” wrote Anna Wichmann for the Greek Reporter. Wichmann further states that after one of the townsfolk were attacked by the vampire, they fell into “shock and fear.”

The Ritual of the Vrykolakas

In response to this undead pain in the neck, the townspeople and the local butcher all got together. They decided that they had to do something about it. Their solution: cut open the body and tear out the heart and then have a nice religious mass afterward. One problem arose, however, when the butcher revealed his “clumsy” talent by not knowing where a human heart was in the body. Due to his negligence, splashed a generous amount of blood and entrails about the scene. Tournefort, knowing that he should stay in his place lest he be burned as a witch for heresy. Thus, he merely stood by and recorded the entire ordeal as a faithful observer.

As stated, the dissection and investigation of the vampire on Mykonos created horrific smells. To mask this olfactory ilk, the townsfolk burned candles and incense. The two competing smells created an near unavoidable nauseum. Meanwhile, the hysteria of the crowd caused the spectators to take note of signs of vampirism on the corpse. These signs did not in fact exist. However, the nausea from the sweltering corpse and stinky, smelly incense swept over the attendees and caused mass hallucinations. In fear, they took the heart to the beach and burned it.

Yet, things only became more aggressive when the corpse allegedly returned to life as a vrykolakas. The vrykolakas were an unholy creature of folklore that brought fear and terror to Greek citizens. As written by D. Demetracopoulou Lee in “Greek Accounts of the Vrykolakas,”: “The vrykolakas is the animated corpse which can leave its grave every day except Saturday … he starts out as a dead human body, he can change his form, or even enter the body of an animal.”

In this way, the corpse of the man born anew, and he meant to cause harm.

An Ongoing Issue and a Solution

Afterward, the angry, heartless vrykolakas committed further harassment of the townsfolk as recourse, as the creature “took to beating people, breaking doors, windows and roofs, tearing clothes and, worst of all, emptying all the bottles and vessels around.”

The vampire’s annoyances forced the townspeople to stabbing the creature’s grave with Christian swords. Though, as noted by Tournefort, this idea came from a visiting man who insisted that the cross made by the hilts holy. He told them that the swords “hindered the Devil from coming out of the Body.” Remember, that the vrykolakas was already a folkloric monster. So, there was all sorts of homespun wisdom generated around the metaphorical campfire.

The End of the Vampire on Mykonos

All of this hysteria eventually led the men to deduce that there had been a small mistake when the ritual had been completed, as it had been done a little backwards. In other words, they burned the heart at the wrong time–that particular action should have come before the religious mass instead of after. The mistake in the ritual, according to the superstitious locals caused the already ornery undead peasant to become far ornerier.

The peasants, realizing their error, took to splashing the doors in their town with holy water. Similarly, they poured it into the vampire’s mouth when given a chance. On top of that, stabbing swords into the grave did little. By the time their patience had finally ran out, they decided to burn the corpse of the creature.

The townspeople then allegedly took the vampire on Mykonos to the sea and burned its entire corpse. As for Tournefort’s estimation: “After such an instance of folly, can we refuse to own that the present Greeks are no great Grecians; and that there is nothing but ignorance and superstition among them.”

Works Cited

Kolasa-Sikiaridi. “The Haunting Legend of the Walking Dead Vrykolakas on Mykonos.” Greek Reporter. Sept. 14, 2016. Web.

Lee, D. Demetracopoulou. “Greek Accounts of the Vrykolakas.” The Journal of American Folklore, vol. 55, no. 217, 1942, pp. 126–32. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/535250. Accessed 13 Feb. 2026.

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Exploring the Origins of the Bogeyman in Folklore

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What child has not had a million nightmares about creatures bursting out of their closet door or crawling out from underneath their bed? While the threat of a horrible creature is a fairly simplistic fear for a child, understanding the exact reason for the bogeyman’s existence is more complex. In this post, we will look at the origins of the bogeyman and how it has been used to keep children in line for centuries.

The Origins of the Bogeyman

The bogeyman is entirely entrenched in multiple folkloric cultures. After all, there has always been something in the dark that will come and get you for various reasons. Nevertheless, our understanding of the bogeymen appeared as early as the 1500’s as a Middle English term meaning “a frightening spectre.” Furthermore, as there are references to hobgoblins and other malevolent creatures, the term is synonymous with The Devil as well.

Similarly, the word “bogey” is actually a reference to “ghosts” or “bug” in many languages, which, in contrast to hobgoblins, could also be a reference to bugbears. Building off of that, the term generally stands for something evil or dangerous that individuals should watchout for when in strange or unknown locales.

Here are a few examples of different bogeymen from around the world:

  • Wewe Gombel: A spirit in the Semarang area of central Java who kidnaps neglected children from their parents until the parents understand the responsibility of raising children.
  • Babaroga: A Croation boogeyman. An ugly, horned lady who hunts for unruly children at night to kidnap and eat.
  • The Night Hag: An evil spirit that favors paralysis and “sits on the chests of her victims while they sleep” to cause nightmares.

The idea of the bogeyman is worldwide, but it means lots of different things to a lot of different cultures. So, regardless if your bogeyman was a horned lady or an evil spirit, it still lurked somewhere just beyond in the darkness.

Why All the Horror, Though?

Back in olden times, humans couldn’t just put on a horror movie at too-early an age for children to remind them of what’s scary in the world. No, humans had to tell children stories—an oral tradition of storytelling, really—to get them to understand morals and how to act right.

As stated by one source, there was a commonality between the bogeyman story across cultures. The commonality was discipline. As stated: “Creating compliance in children is something parents long for, but it is sometimes difficult to do with compliments and candy. Scaring them by telling them that a monster would come and eat them if they disobeyed is much more effective in that case.”

Therefore, there is a bit of old time parenting to contend with as compliance, obedience, and communal thinking were (and are) important functions to stability in a household. Wisdom contends: children must be compliant and obedient for the purposes of helping with chores. Naughty children didn’t help with the animals and the crops. The ones who knew their role in the household did. Those bad seeds, meanwhile, faced the prospect of being dragged off by a horrible creature that only existed in the nightmare projections of their parents’ minds. While childrearing has changed, the threat of the bogeyman has not.

Conclusion

In a way, the bogeyman is very real. True, it is not some creature that will come from dark pits of nightmares. As such, it won’t come eat you because he “just feels like it”; nay, he will come eat you because you’ve done something bad. This idea comes from folkloric notions of explanation in a world that is sometimes hard to explain.

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The Most Disturbing Poem, “Little Orphant Annie”

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The poem “Little Orphant Annie,” is a dastardly one, but I have a personal connection to it from my childhood.

As a boy, my family’s bathtub/shower was an old, rotted thing that had a hole right under the water spout. Inside the hole was stuffed a plastic cup. It had been used, during times of great innovation, to fill the hole up as to not reveal the darkness that lay beyond. I always assumed it was probably a direct line to our basement–or the abyss. At that, I would stare for the length of time it took me to wash myself. That’s all I could focus on.

And worry I did, because inside that hole existed the goblins.

Of course, the goblins! Because they were very real and present when I was a child. I guess if you happened to be a terrible kid, they would come and kidnap you. Then, they would take you to a place where you would be butchered and cooked over a blazing fire. That’s just according to folklore, from what I understand. Luckily I was a pretty good kid and never encountered them.

But, who were these goblins, you ask? Well, they were the goblins of legend and song. More accurately, they were the ones from the poem “Little Orphant Annie.” These goblins kidnap and punish two terrible children in two consecutive stanzas. I tell you, if your mother sang this poem to you as a child, you probably still remember the sleepless nights you spent staring at the ceiling. The goblins of your imagination lay just out of reach.

The following poem is the one I heard from my childhood, and these are the most salient parts. For some reason, there are many dark children’s poems. But, for this one, there is more to it, but it’s just easier to publish what I recall as being the most unnecessarily terrifying parts for a child to hear.

“Little Orphant Annie” by James Whitcomb Riley

…
Onc’t they was a little boy wouldn’t say his prayers,–
So when he went to bed at night, away up stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an’ his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An’ when they turn’t the kivvers down, he wasn’t there at all!

An’ they seeked him in the rafter-room, an’ cubby-hole, an’ press,
An’ seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an’ ever’wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found was thist his pants an’ roundabout–

An’ the Gobble-uns’ll git you

             Ef you

                Don’t

                   Watch

                      Out!

An’ one time a little girl ‘ud allus laugh an’ grin,
An’ make fun of ever’one, an’ all her blood an’ kin;
An’ onc’t, when they was “company,” an’ ole folks was there,
She mocked ’em an’ shocked ’em, an’ said she didn’t care!

An’ thist as she kicked her heels, an’ turn’t to run an’ hide,
They was two great big Black Things a-standin’ by her side,
An’ they snatched her through the ceilin’ ‘fore she knowed what she’s about!

An’ the Gobble-uns’ll git you

             Ef you

                Don’t

                   Watch

                      Out!

…