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If you have an interest in
the paranormal the first taste you may have gotten of hauntings
and strange goings on may have been one of the frightening
stories. The only thing historical about the following tales is
that they’ve been handed down generation to generation like an
heirloom quilt. As the nights grow longer and crisp winds begin to
blow one of these legends may send a familiar chill down your
spine. RAWHEAD and BLOODY BONES Just the title of this story is unnerving enough to grab attention, and scaring small children seems the intent of this legend. Rawhead and Bloody Bones is sometimes described as a very real madman or a disembodied spirit. Either incarnation had a particular habit of preying almost exclusively, on wayward or disobedient youngsters. R.H.A.B.B. might appear as a light in the distance or as a scab-covered grisly old man. Conveniently, he makes his home in quarries, bogs, dense woods, or among any surroundings considered dangerous for children. This story is Celtic in origin and is still terrifying young people in the southern states of America. |
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DANCING WITH THE DEVIL This tale is heard most frequently heard in Mexico, Texas, California and Florida. When you hear it, the storyteller will lead you to believe it happened to his roommate’s best friend’s aunt. In short this story has the feet and legs of an urban legend. (pun intended) The story as often told: Connie was too young to go to Dance Halls and her Mom had warned her not to go until she was twenty-one. But all of her friends were going dancing one Saturday night and she was determined to be with them. So giving her parents a well-thought out alibi the young woman borrowed a pretty dress and snuck into a popular club with a group of other young people. Happy and flushed with excitement at having defied authority Connie danced the night away. Just as she and her friends were getting tired and thinking of leaving a handsome, well-dressed young man entered the Hall. Fascinated by his good looks and charming ways the girls stayed hoping he would ask one of them for a dance. Eventually he made his way over to them and took Connie by the hand leading her to the dance floor. To the envy of her companions Connie found herself in the arms of the most attractive man she had ever met. He was also the most graceful dancer she had seen. She didn’t want the music to ever end; she felt she could remain in his arms forever. Suddenly a woman dancing close by began screaming and pointing down at the feet of Connie’s dance partner. Before Connie knew what was happening the music had stopped and the Hall had gone completely silent as the crowd stared at the couple in shock. Bewildered Connie stepped back and saw that the fine boots her partner had worn earlier were gone. Some people say that his feet had turned into those of a chicken, and some people say they looked more like the cloven hoofs of goat. Regardless of which animal’s feet they most resembled it was clear to Connie that they weren’t human. Shaken to the marrow of her bones the young woman looked up into face of the man she’d tried so hard to impress all evening. The dark smooth hair was now oily and unkempt, and the formerly beautiful brown eyes glowed red. Terrified Connie screamed and tried to run away, but a claw-like hand held her fast. I will be seeing you again, the leering figure told her, and then he disappeared in a column of smoke that smelled of sulfur. THE HAUNTED CAR The owner of the yard was happy to show him around, but of course all the cars either needed extensive repair, were worn down by too many years and too many miles, or had been involved in accidents. This young man, John was his name, could find nothing that would take him more than a few miles down the road, much less get him to work each morning. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw it. There sitting amongst the crumpled wrecks was a beautiful dark blue Buick, a town car, with no visible damage anywhere to be seen. Is that one for sale? John tried to keep the eagerness out of his voice. The salvage owner looked down at his feet, and the younger man’s heart sank fearing the answer would be negative. Yes, it’s for sale, the older man said, but I’m not sure you’d want to take that particular car. Why not? Does it run? There was no use pretending now, John’s hopes were soaring high. Sure, it runs fine, that’s not the problem with that car, the owner said without looking his customer in the eye. Hey, I just need something that runs. I’ve lost two jobs for being late, I just need a car to get me to work, John told him enthusiastically. How much do you want for it? The owner sighed deeply and recited a ridiculously low price. I’ll take it! John could still read the doubt in the owner’s expression. Look he said reassuringly, this could change my life! The old salvage man finally looked John square in the eye. It could do that, he said faintly, that car might do just that. Delighted with his purchase the young man enjoyed a smooth ride home. The only problem he could find with the vehicle was a strong odor of cigar smoke, but he figured if he drove with the windows down often enough the smell would go away. If not he would spring for an air freshener. The car was more than he had ever dreamed he’d be lucky enough to own, and the eye watering fragrance wasn’t enough to diminish his buyer’s high. His euphoria continued for a few weeks. Then ironically enough once his job-tardiness was cured he was given more responsibly and found himself working late one evening. This wasn’t the problem it had been in the past since of course he could cruise home in his Buick. As he left his employer’s parking lot he noticed again the unmistakable odor of a burning cigar, but this time as he traveled the smell did not dissipate even with the driver’s side window rolled down. Instead it intensified and a fog of smoke filled the vehicle. Pulling over he checked under the hood thinking the smoke must be from some mechanically difficulty, but could nothing wrong. Puzzled, he checked the back seat thinking somehow a burning ember had found a way onto the upholstery. Again, he found nothing amiss. There was nothing to do but continue driving. As John continued down the dark streets once more the stench of a burning cigar became strong once again. This time a fog actually formed inside the Buick, and looking in the rear-view mirror for a second he thought he saw a form sitting behind him in the backseat. Thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him he glanced again. Suddenly the form pressed closer and to John’s horror the scarred face of a man appeared behind him seemly only inches away from his own. Skidding to a stop John looked back and saw nothing. The figure was gone, but he was sure what he’d seen was not his imagination. The dark, penetrating eyes of the man sitting in the back had been all too real. He returned the next day to the salvage yard and the found that the owner was not surprised to see him. So, he drawled, I guess you saw Mannie. You can’t say I didn’t warn you that this wasn’t the car you wanted. Who is Mannie? John asked. He was not so ready to give up yet. And how did he get into my car. Mannie Estabar? You never heard of him? Big crime boss around here, or at least he was, the owner told him nonchalantly. What happened to him? the younger man felt he had a right to know considering this was the likeliest candidate for his passenger last night. Follow me, and with that the
old salvage man brought John into his office and showed him a series
of newspaper clippings regarding the exploits of Manual Estabar.
There was a mug shot, and John saw the dark penetrating eyes, and
scarred face that had terrified him the night before. Mannie had a driver, the owner told him, one of the few people he trusted. Drove him everywhere he needed to go. Now Estabar usually had good instincts, but he must not have realized how ambitious his driver really was. After the disappeared this driver started working for a rival of Mannie’s. Disappearance? That wasn’t exactly what John had expected to hear. Yep, the last time anyone ever saw Mannie he was climbing into the back of his car your car now the old man reminded him. He was smoking one of his favorite brands of cigars. He hasn’t been seen since. Except for anyone who drives the car, John corrected him. Yeah, the old man sighed, except for them. He didn’t even argue when John asked for his money back. (This is only one version of this legend. If you’ve heard another please let us know at Whatwasthen, or log in to our forum and give everyone a sample of the tale the way you heard it.) BLOODY MARY There are two legends with this name. One is what happens to you if you have the drink that goes by this designation, and the other is a ghost of woman who appears in mirrors. Both are supposed to leave you reeling. The story goes that if you stand in a darkened room facing a mirror and chant Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, B. well, you get the idea. After you’ve said the name three times she will, they say, appear in the mirror. There are several variations of who she is, and what she will do to you if you summon her spirit. For instance some say she is a vengeful ghost of an angry witch who will scratch you, and some say she is a melancholy spirit of an innocent soul who somehow became trapped and can only be seen in reflective surfaces when all the lights are out. There aren’t many details to go on with this story, which seems to have originated in suburban America. BUT you can always try it out and see what happens. The bathroom is the usual recommended place since there’s usually a large mirror. If you should see her maybe you could ask her a few questions before she either attacks you or sadly fades away.
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