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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to adapt their copyrighted material.

  “The Witch Cat” is based in part upon the tale of the same name in Ghosts of the Carolinas by Nancy Roberts, copyright 1962, 1967, and used with the kind permission of Bright Mountain Books, Asheville, North Carolina.

  “The Ghostly Little Girl” is based on a story by Randall A. Reinstedt that appeared in Mr. Reinstedt’s Ghostly Tales & Mystenous Happenings of Old Monterey, copyright 1977, used with the permission of Ghost Town Publications, Carmel, California.

  “The Skeleton’s Dance” is based, with the permission of the University of Chicago Press, on the story “The Skeleton’s Song” in Folktales of Japan, edited by Keigo Seki, translated by Robert J. Adams, copyright 1963.

  “Scared to Death” is based, with the permission of the University of South Carolina Press, on the story “The Leaning Tombstone” in Charleston Ghosts by Margaret Rhett Martin, copyright 1963.

  To Al Schroeder,

  who loves a scary story

  almost as much as the author.

  R.S.S.

  Contents

  Introduction

  The Robber Bridegroom

  (adapted from the Brothers Grimm)

  Jack Frost

  (from a Russian folktale)

  The Waterfall of Ghosts

  (from the Japanese writings of Lafcadio Hearn)

  The Ghost’s Cap

  (from a Russian folktale)

  The Witch Cat

  (folklore of the United States—Virginia)

  The Green Mist

  (a legend from Lincolnshire, England)

  The Cegua

  (a folktale from Costa Rica)

  The Ghostly Little Girl

  (United States—California)

  The Midnight Mass of the Dead

  (a Norse folktale)

  Tailypo

  (United States—West Virginia)

  Lady Eleanore’s Mantle

  (from a tale by Nathaniel Hawthorne)

  The Soldier and the Vampire

  (a Russian folktale)

  The Skeleton’s Dance

  (a folktale from Japan)

  Scared To Death

  (United States—South Carolina)

  Swallowed Alive

  (a British folktale)

  The Deacon’s Ghost

  (a folktale from Iceland)

  Nuckelavee

  (a folktale from the Orkney Islands)

  The Adventure of the German Student

  (from a tale by Washington Irving)

  Billy Mosby’s Night Ride

  (United States—New England)

  The Hunter in the Haunted Forest

  (a Native American legend)

  Brother and Sister

  (retold from an African folktale)

  The Lovers of Dismal Swamp

  (United States—Virginia)

  Boneless

  (based on folklore of the Shetland Islands)

  The Death Waltz

  (United States—New Mexico)

  The Ghost of Misery Hill

  (United States—California)

  The Loup-Garou

  (The Werewolf) (from French-Canadian folklore)

  The Golem

  (based on Jewish folklore)

  Lavender

  (United States)

  The Goblin Spider

  (a Japanese legend)

  The Halloween Pony

  (from a French folktale)

  Notes on Sources

  About the Author

  About the Artist

  Introduction

  Welcome! Since you’ve taken a look in this book, I guess it’s safe to assume you like to read spooky stories. I must admit that I enjoy a good shudder myself. The thirty stories in this book will introduce you to ghosts, goblins, and assorted other monsters. But beware! These creatures that are lurking in the shadows along a deserted street, or glimpsed in a lightning flash outside your window on a stormy night, or have just put a claw on the knob of the door into this room (gotcha!) are pretty creepy customers. Before you read any further, you might want to turn up the lights a bit or hang a clove of garlic on the wall.

  Just in case….

  Over the years, I’ve read or heard hundreds of spooky stories, and I have found that some of the best are folktales that have been shared by people in moonlight or candlelight or electric light—sometimes for hundreds of years or more. Many such tales were handed down from storyteller to storyteller countless times, before someone finally wrote them down. Often they were changed slightly with each retelling, as a storyteller added his or her own details and a bit of local color. But the heart of such a story remains the same no matter how many different ways it’s told: it has the power to capture our imaginations, give us a thrill of excitement (and chill us at the same time), and make us look at ourselves and our place in the world in a different way. And it might just reassure us that good can triumph, evil doesn’t go unpunished, and courage can help us face down even the most frightening monsters.

  The stories here come from many different times, from a variety of cultures, and from countries all around the world; but they have one thing in common: they’re scary. In these pages, you’ll encounter a dancing Japanese skeleton that tricks a murderer … a Russian vampire who plagues a peaceful village … a Canadian werewolf who haunts a winter forest by moonlight … a haunted gold mine in the Old West … a clay statue that comes to life … a ghost in Iceland, who returns from the dead to claim his bride … a goblin pony that takes its riders on a fearful Halloween journey … a boy who spies on a witch in colonial America and learns the terrible price of meddling with black magic … a brother and sister who battle an African demon … and a monster so strange that everyone sees it differently and no two people can agree what to call it.

  I’ve retold these stories in my own way. Sometimes I’ve just changed or added a few details, shortened a very long tale, or made the old-fashioned language a bit easier to understand, as in the case of Washington Irving’s fearsome “Adventure of the German Student.” Sometimes I’ve taken a very brief incident and expanded it to a full-length story, to satisfy my own curiosity about what might have happened to the people in the story if the original storyteller had told it in a slightly different way. The story of “The Ghostly Little Girl” and her three best friends is a good example of taking an account that was only a few paragraphs long and making it into a longer story.

  Sometimes I have combined several very short tales into a single story: “The Hunter in the Hau
nted Forest” weaves together into a single narrative three brief Teton Sioux stories of warriors who met ghosts when they were alone in the wild. Once in a while, as with the legend of the Cegua, a Central American demon which haunts the roads by night and drives travelers mad with its horrible appearance, I have used a description of the creature and its history as the basis for spinning my own, original story around such lore and legend.

  What I’ve tried to do is make these stories my own, and share them in a way that you, the reader, can enjoy them and make them your own. I hope you’ll have as much fun discovering these shivery tales now, as I did finding them earlier, and retelling them. For those of you who want to know more about the background of individual stories, I have included “Notes on Sources” at the end of this volume.

  So, happy reading! And if you think you hear something scratching at the window or a footstep in the empty room overhead, just remember, it’s only your imagination.

  Probably.

  The Robber Bridegroom

  (adapted from the Brothers Grimm)

  There was once a miller who had a beautiful daughter. He was a hard worker, so his business prospered, and he grew wealthy. A widower, he gave his only daughter fine dresses and shoes with silver buckles. For himself he bought a splendid cloak, a broad-brimmed hat with a huge ostrich feather, and a gold ring with a picture of his mill engraved on it, because this had brought him his riches.

  One night, however, robbers broke into the mill, and stole his hat, cloak, and ring—and all the gold he had saved up. Then the old man said to his daughter, “You must marry soon. The world is full of wicked men, and you should have a husband to protect you. But he must be a wealthy man, because you deserve the fine things I can no longer buy you.”

  “I don’t care if the man is rich or poor,” said the girl, Elsa, “as long as I love him and he loves me.”

  “Tut,” said her father impatiently, “if the right kind of bridegroom comes along and asks for your hand, I’ll let him marry you.”

  Soon enough, a suitor turned up who was dressed in the finest clothes, had boots with silver toes and tops, and rode a grand horse with a bridle trimmed in gold.

  “I have seen your daughter when she walks to the village,” said the stranger, “and I want her to be my wife.”

  The miller was dazzled by the man’s garments and his horse’s trappings, so he said, “She will be your wife.”

  But Elsa didn’t love him as a bride-to-be ought to love her future bridegroom. She didn’t trust him; and whenever she looked at him or thought about him, a shudder ran through her.

  The stranger came often to the miller’s house. Finally, he said to Elsa, “You’re engaged to me, and yet you have never been to see me.”

  “I don’t even know where your house is,” the young woman answered, feeling a sudden chill in her heart.

  Her suitor said, “My house is in the depths of the forest.”

  “Then I could never find my way there,” Elsa said.

  “Nonsense,” said the stranger. “Next Sunday, you must come and see me. I’ve already invited some other guests, who are eager to meet you. So that you can find the way, I’ll leave a trail of ashes to guide you.”

  Elsa started to protest, but her father said, “Tut!” Then to the richly dressed stranger he said, “She will be there. I will see to it.”

  When Saturday came, the girl was about to start out, because her bridegroom had told her the journey would take a day and a night on foot. She felt terribly frightened, though she did not know why. To be sure of finding her way back, she filled her pockets with dried peas and beans to mark her path. At the entrance to the forest, she found the trail of ashes, like a thin, gray thread, and followed it deep into the dark woods. But every step or two, she tossed a few peas and beans to her right or left.

  She walked nearly that whole day and night, all the way into the heart of the forest. In the morning, which was almost as gloomy as midnight, she saw a house set by itself in a small clearing. It was so dark and dismal that she feared going any closer. But the trail of ashes led right to the front door, so she went up.

  Elsa knocked softly several times; when no one answered, she went in. She saw nobody; there was a silence over all the rooms.

  Suddenly, a voice cried:

  “Turn back, young woman! Run away!

  You’ve come to a robber’s house this day.”

  She looked up and saw that the voice had come from a bird in a cage that was hanging in a window. Once more, it warned her:

  “Turn back, young woman! Run away!

  You’ve come to a robber’s house this day.”

  She was about to turn and run, when she heard someone singing in a sweet, clear voice deep in the house. The voice was so gentle and sad that Elsa had to see who was singing. She followed the sound from room to room, all over the house, but they were all empty. At last she reached the cellar door. Descending the steep and narrow steps, she found an old blind woman who was sitting in a corner, shaking her head sadly, while she sang mournfully to herself.

  “Who are you?” Elsa asked.

  “I keep this unhappy house,” explained the blind woman. “But what are you with such a young, kind voice doing here?”

  “I’m to marry the master of the house,” said Elsa.

  “Alas! You poor child! You have no idea where you are. You’re in the den of a thief and a murderer. Years ago I was brought here with a promise of marriage. Instead the villain blinded me so I could not run away, and has made me work harder than the most wretched slave. Now that I’ve grown weary and unable to work as I once did, he has brought you here. He will drive me into the woods to die, and he will blind you and make you take my place.”

  “Come with me,” urged Elsa, “we’ll run away together.”

  But as she was guiding the older woman toward the steps, they heard the sound of rough voices above. When Elsa recognized her bridegroom’s voice, her heart sank.

  But the old woman said, “Hide behind those chests in the corner, and be quiet as a mouse. Don’t move, or everything is lost. Tonight, when the robbers are asleep, I’ll fetch you. Then we can escape together.”

  Hardly had Elsa hidden behind a metal-bound chest, when the chief robber came to the head of the stairs and bellowed, “Come up and fix us dinner, or you’ll regret it quick enough! My bride hasn’t come, and I’m in a rare bad temper. In the morning, I will ride to demand my bride and have no more of these games! Her father is a greedy and foolish man; he will hand her over. And it’s going to be harder for her than she can imagine, since she has disobeyed me. Now, hurry and set out some food and drink.”

  All through the afternoon and evening, Elsa listened to the roaring and stamping and laughter as the men grew drunk and began to argue among themselves. Hidden behind the chests, she trembled and shivered, dreading her fate if she were discovered.

  Now one chest that was near her hand was partially opened; she could see gold gleaming faintly in what little light fell down through the open cellar door. Carefully Elsa lifted out several coins, a belt buckle, and a brooch, all of finest gold. Then, reaching in more deeply, she discovered a massive gold ring with the picture of her father’s mill engraved on it. She knew in a moment that these robbers were the ones who had stolen all their gold months before.

  Keeping quiet, she dropped the ring in her skirt pocket. Then she waited, while the sounds above continued, though it was growing later and later. She began to fear the robbers would go on crashing about until morning, and the old woman’s plan would fail.

  Upstairs, however, the blind woman put a sleeping potion in the thieves’ wine. Soon, one by one, they lay down and went to sleep, snoring loudly.

  When they were all asleep, the housekeeper called down to Elsa, “Come quickly! We must hurry!”

  The girl hastily came out from behind the chests and climbed the stairs. She had to step over the sleepers, who lay in rows upon the floor. She was dreadfully afraid of touching them
, for fear one would wake, but she got through without mishap.

  The other woman was waiting by the open door. Elsa took her hand, and they hurried away as quickly as they could from the robbers’ den.

  All the ashes had been blown away by the wind, but the peas and beans, being heavier, remained to show them their way in the moonlight.

  They walked the whole night and reached the mill the next afternoon. There Elsa told her father everything she had been through and the plan she had for trapping the wicked thief. Then her father hastened to the village to invite all his friends and relations to a feast, while Elsa and the blind woman set out tables and cooked every bit of food in the house.

  When the robber and his men rode up to claim Elsa, the miller welcomed them with a great show of friendship. “My daughter will go away with you this very day,” he said, “but first, share a meal with us in honor of my daughter’s wedding.”

  The robbers, who had awakened to find their housekeeper gone, and had been forced to scrounge a wretched breakfast for themselves, were only too glad to sit down and enjoy themselves.

  During the meal, the miller asked each person to tell a story to entertain the other guests. When it came Elsa’s turn, she was silent. But her bridegroom said, “Come, my sweet, you must tell us a story, too. I won’t have people thinking my bride is a dull wit.”

  “Very well,” the girl said, “I will tell you a dream I have had. In it I was walking alone in a gloomy wood, and I came to a solitary house, where not a soul was to be seen. A cage was hanging in the window of one of the rooms. In it was a bird which cried:

  “Turn back, young woman! Run away!

  You’ve come to a robber’s house this day.”

  “It repeated the same words twice.”

  “I don’t think I care for this story much,” grumbled the bridegroom.

  “This was only a dream, my love!” protested Elsa. Then she continued, “I heard someone singing a sweet song, so I walked all through the rooms, but they were empty. At last I went down to the cellar, where I found a blind woman singing to herself. When I told her I had come to marry the master of the house, she cried, ‘Alas, you poor child! You’re in the den of a thief and murderer!’ Then she told me how he planned to blind me, and make me a slave in her place.”