Bestiary |
Not all ghosts necessarily have to be scary, or rather, not all of them have to maliciously harm, hurt, or haunt their human victims. Some just amuse themselves inappropriately and provoke others, playing pranks, but they don’t mean any harm. And then there are those who are, in all honesty, honest and helpful. Many of them devote themselves to household chores, while others protect people from their evil astral companions. Of course, there are also beings who neither harm nor help. They simply exist. Like Hitotsume-kozō, for example.
He looks like a chubby child with a single eye in the middle of his forehead, so the fright he causes with his appearance certainly cannot be considered intentional.
Illustration via Wikimedia Commons, licence Public domain
4.5.2026 (28.12.2014)
When the Japanese god Izanagi had to purify himself in the Tsukushi River, the moon god Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto was born from his left eye, the sea god Susanoo from his nose, and the sun goddess Amaterasu from his right eye. Izanagi gave her a necklace and the heavenly fields, while he lost patience with the sea god when Susanoo incessantly demanded to visit the land of shadows and their mother Izanami. So instead of ruling the sea, Susanoo was banished.
Before leaving the heavens, he stopped by his sister’s place. Amaterasu was taken aback by the visit; she feared her brother wanted to take her land, so she greeted him with a bow in her hand and fifteen hundred arrows in her quiver. But Susanoo had other plans. He promised never to enter the heavenly realm as a conqueror; in return, he demanded a romantic relationship. As a wedding gift, he brought a sword, which the goddess ate, just as he ate her offerings, thereby giving rise to a multitude of lesser gods.
Then he truly left. But he wasn’t gone for long; after some time, he returned to heaven, this time with different intentions. He destroyed the rice fields there, defiled Amaterasu’s palace, and killed one of the sacred horses, which he skinned and threw into the room where the goddess and her attendants were weaving at the loom. Amaterasu was understandably enraged, but instead of fighting, she took immense offense and left the world. She hid in a cave, which meant that the heavens lost their light. The gods did not like the eternal night; moreover, the heavenly river dried up, and the situation began to grow truly dire.
But how to get Amaterasu out?
First, they tried the song of nightingales, then enticed her with fine fabrics, mirrors, and jewels, displayed before the cave. The goddess didn’t take the bait. Finally, Ame-no-Uzume-no-Mikoto performed a fertility dance. Naked, which the assembled male gods greeted with enthusiastic shouts. Amaterasu peeked out of the cave curiously, and at that moment, someone held up a mirror to her.
When the sun goddess saw herself, she decided that she simply could not hide such a beautiful face and stopped sulking.
Life in Heaven returned to normal, and an annual festival celebrating the Sun’s return from the darkness was added, which humans later adopted as well.
4.5.2026 (9.9.2007)
Ancient Persia was inhabited by a whole host of more or less dangerous monsters, supernatural beings, gods, and demons. The devas were among the most dangerous and remain the best known to this day; the English word “devil” derives directly from them. And it’s not just the word, because even in later Iranian myths, devas are right at home, serving as a generic term for demons of all kinds. On the other hand, since we’ve touched on etymology, the Greek Zeus and the Roman deus—meaning “God”—also stem from the same Indo-European root.
The Persians adopted the devas, along with many other things, from Hindu India. The devas there, however, are by no means unworthy creatures, but simply younger divine beings who, due to a conflict with the older generation of gods (the asuras), became somewhat notorious. But their name remained just a name, without any secondary, let alone primary, meanings. In ancient Persia, it was likely no different. However, with the rise of new religions—a phenomenon we know well from Europe—roles often shift rapidly, and former idols become devils. The Persians began to regard the devas as evil or false gods, and after the emergence of Zoroastrianism, as demons spreading disease and fighting against any faith (which resembles Islamic jinn, among whom there are quite a few atheists). And with this practice, they then became the servants and zealous followers of Ahriman. Among them, several names stood out—more precisely, the seven highest-ranking devas.
Aesma Daeva (in English, “The Madman”) was a lustful, vengeful, and furious demon who loved war and violence. Together with the demon of death, Asto Vidatu, he captured souls bound for heaven. From his name, it is easy to see that he also found a place in Judaism and Christianity as the demon Asmodeus.
To tempt the prophet Zarathustra, Ahriman sent Aku Manah, the personification of sensual desires, while Indra (not to be confused with the Hindu Indra) was the personification of apostasy from the faith, and Nanghaithya was the arch-deceiver and the embodiment of eternal dissatisfaction. The last of these Magnificent Seven were Saurva and the ladies Tawrich, the personification of hunger, and Zarich, representing Old Age.
The transition to the negative camp was not so sudden; older Zoroastrian texts treated the former positive beings with respect (some of the devas joined Zoroaster, while others were said to help people). Only with the passage of time, as the old gods were forgotten, did the devas change their allegiance.
The famous Iranian hero Rustam could not help but encounter the devas. In the Book of Kings, the Shahnameh, the devas represent the hostile rulers against whom the Iranians fought. Tamuras became the ultimate conqueror of the demons (who rode Ahriman himself against them), but there are always some demons left for other heroes to face. During his seven adventurous expeditions, Rustam encountered various supernatural creatures, and one of them was Dév-e Spéd, the White Demon (plus an army of his subordinates). He had kidnapped King Kobad, who lost his sight while in captivity, and only three drops of his captor’s blood could restore it. Therefore, Rustam set out against the devas, fought his way through a large army, and then—with an obvious outcome—battled Dév-e Spéd himself in a cave.
As in many other cultures, the devas have survived in folk literature and fairy tales. In these, they usually appear in their well-known form, but occasionally their ancient past seems to return, and they help the heroes here and there. They can be summoned by throwing a pinch of their hair into the fire.
4.5.2026 (16.9.2007)
From time to time, I open the drawer of true demonology (partly out of purely professional interest, and partly because devils attract readers). There are countless demons in there, so there’s truly plenty to choose from.
Belfegor is one of the better-known names. According to sixteenth-century demonological authorities, he is at his strongest in April, though that doesn’t mean any other month on the calendar prevents him from helping people discover and invent. Warning—even though this activity, especially today, may seem harmless to you, Belfegor’s foundation support is directed toward projects with a single goal: self-enrichment. Kabbalistic texts further admit that he is meant to sow discord among people, especially during negotiations over the division of profits achieved thanks to his support.
In illustrations, he is often depicted as a beautiful naked woman or a bearded, horned devil with sharp claws.
As is often the case, he is, incidentally, a former god who found himself on the wrong side of history. The name Belfegor, in fact, derives from Baal-Peor, Lord of Mount Peor, who was the Moabite god of the sun and moon, of both the masculine and feminine principles, worshipped—as the name suggests—primarily around Mount Peor, which rises on the left bank of the Jordan River.
4.5.2026 (23.9.2007)
You can find this demon in the New Testament, in several places (though all within a single story). He possessed a man from Gadara whom Jesus encountered as soon as he arrived in that region. The poor man, as soon as he saw the Messiah, ran to him and begged for help. And Christ, of course, granted his request:
For he said unto him, Come out of the man, thou unclean spirit. And he asked him, What is thy name? And he answered, saying, My name is Legion: for we are many. And he besought him much that he would not send them away out of the country.
Mark 5:8-10 KJV
There (and also in Luke, chapter eight), you can read the rest of the story, namely, that Jesus drove the demons into a nearby herd of pigs, and how the locals then begged him to leave, and how… well, I think it’s no problem to read this story in the original.
The third version (after Mark and Luke) comes from the Gospel of Matthew. In it, however, there are only two demons, each separately, and without names.
4.5.2026 (23.9.2007)
Paimon is not just some random horned demon from the cauldrons, but one of the kings of Hell, the most loyal to Lucifer. He commands a hundred (or two hundred) legions of demons, and when summoned, he can teach all sciences, philosophy, and the arts; he also knows all the secrets of earth, wind, and water. Among the quite useful gifts at his disposal is the ability to make a person respected, trustworthy, and easily able to control their fellow citizens. But beware—he is a devil, so it probably won’t come for free.
When he arrives (to summon him, one must face west or northwest, where Paimon usually dwells), his powerful voice can be heard; as for his appearance, he is not particularly terrifying, unless you are surprised by a man with a crown and a woman’s face riding a camel. He rarely appears alone; he is often preceded by a retinue of demons (of human appearance) playing various, mostly loud and resonant, musical instruments.
4.5.2026 (23.9.2007)
While the connection between the Greek Typhon, the whirlwind, and the Chinese great wind (t'ai fung), the typhoon, is somewhat disturbingly uncertain, three names for a strong wind known in Czech—namely orkan (borrowed from Dutch), uragan (via French), and hurikan (of Spanish origin), are linked to a single Central American deity and beautifully reflect European history—namely, the conquering, colonizing, and cultural presence of three seafaring powers in the Caribbean region.
Three languages adopted the word from the Antillean Indians, and the indigenous inhabitants of those islands, in turn, from continental Mayan mythology. In it appeared Huracán (meaning “One-Legged”), the ancient god of wind and storm, both Creator and Destroyer. He raised the land from the primordial waters, created the first humans from corn dough, but when the gods grew angry with them, he did not hesitate to destroy humanity.
4.5.2026 (23.9.2007)
Happy-to-be fathers from the Micronesian Marshall Islands set out to sea to bring gifts and some quality food to the expectant mother. There would be nothing unusual about this if they weren’t under the threat that, if they stay away from home too long, their wives might turn into the demon Mejenkwaar. She often eats her own newborn baby, and when they return, she eats her husband as well.
4.5.2026 (15.10.2007)
Nan Madol is one of those forgotten places, known here only to those who love a good mystery. But I won’t be discussing the legendary platinum coffins here; instead, I’ve unearthed three inhabitants of the local myths,
The shark couple, Oun Muolusei and Lieoun Muolusei, isn’t all that supernatural (perhaps only in their marital relationship, which sharks don’t usually enter into), but they certainly assisted in a magical feat. They resided in the waters near the island of Nan Muolusei, and anyone who wanted to visit Nan Madol had to swim past them. Visitors, naturally from aristocratic circles—people of lower birth could only dream of a journey to the artificial islands—fortunately, in those days, they mastered a magic with which they could bring stone to life. And it was here that they used it frequently—they transformed stones into living beings, threw them into the water, and while the sharks chased the bait, real people could swim from the entrance island to the king.
The third creature—the female crocodile Nan Kieil Mau—was the mother-in-law of one of the Nan Madol saudeleurs, or rulers. She was also the protagonist of a tragic story, not uncommon in myths and legends.
Her daughter looked exactly like a human in every detail, while the mother retained her original animal form, about which her son-in-law had only vague notions. At first, out of respect for his wife’s mother, he did not object at all when Nan Kieil Mau announced her arrival one day; he had a large house built for her on Pan Kadira Island and behaved in an exemplary and hospitable manner. He could not bring himself to look at her face, however, even though curiosity gnawed at him.
He satisfied his curiosity late at night, when no one else was on the island; he peeked discreetly into the house—and when he saw what he saw, that monstrous face, in a sudden panic, he set the building on fire. The fire drew his wife, and when she realized her mother was burning inside, she leaped into the flames after her. Only then did the ruler come to his senses. And what else could he do but throw himself after his beloved wife?
Since we’re in a myth, that’s exactly what he did.
4.5.2026 (15.10.2007)
And now, a quick return to the Marshall Islands. Among other supernatural beings, the Rimenanwe also live here—tiny rascals who steal boats, food, and other necessities. They try to stay out of sight, but their nature gets the better of them. They have relatives all over the world, because one of the most common human traits is to blame one’s own mistakes on someone else.
And that’s all for today. The title of Miloslav Stingl’s thick travelogue, *Through Unknown Micronesia*, says it all about Micronesia—and its myths in particular.
4.5.2026 (15.10.2007)
Ika-Tere is the best-known name of the famous Polynesian fish god, grandson of the sea god Tangaroy. Ika-Tere is the father of all sea creatures; in addition to common fauna, his descendants include mermaids and mermen. Although these beings had both fish and human parts, unlike European customs, the dividing line did not run at the waist but lengthwise—they usually had the right side as an animal and the left as a human. This likely tired the otherwise rich imagination of the Polynesians, because over time, Ika-Tere’s children began to be born in fully human form.
4.5.2026 (21.10.2007)
The famous Feathered Serpent was one of the deities worshipped throughout Central America; therefore, it will not be easy to deal with him.
He was the son of Ometeotl, who is neither a god nor a goddess, but a primal principle, a dualistic entity of both genders, existing beyond space and time. According to the Aztecs, he had three siblings—Tezcatlipoca, Huitzilopochtli, and Xipe Totec—and many identities; he was sometimes associated with the rain god Tlaloc, other times with the wind god Ehecatl. Here we encounter a problem similar to that found in Mediterranean mythologies: the synthesis of myths from various nations and cultures.
The origin of the Feathered Serpent likely lies with the Olmecs (the names of their gods are unfortunately lost); their so-called “God VII” boasted a similar appearance—namely, a serpent’s body and head, and wings. The Maya knew him as Kukulcán; the Quiché called him Gucumatz; the Huastecs, Ehécatl. I will omit these figures for now, partly to save space, and partly so that I will have something to write about later.
Like many of his kind, Quetzalcóatl had a wide range of functions and duties; he was the father of the gods and the creator, overseeing the sciences, arts, and crafts, as well as farmers, and ruling over the winds and the cardinal directions (symbolized by air currents in most cultures). Together with Xólotl, he was part of the dual deity of Venus, called Tlahuizcalpatecuhtli, in which he represented the morning star. His most famous incarnation was Ce Ácatl Topiltzin Quetzalcóatl, the Toltec king, to whom I will return later.
In an interesting creation myth typical of the Americas, the Feathered Serpent played a significant role in two places, or rather in two worlds, because according to the Aztecs, the earth stumbled its way to its present form through five suns.
The first world, inhabited by giants, was ruled by Tezcatlipoca, and it was Quetzalcóatl (or rather his jaguars) who brought about its end. He then reigned over the second sun until humans turned into monkeys and the world was destroyed by winds. Not even the third sun, under the patronage of the rain god Tláloc, was spared disaster—this time in the form of fiery rains and the transformation of the population into birds. The same in blue—pardon me, wet— applied to the subsequent world of the fourth sun, which was struck by a flood and the transformation of people into fish.
On the fifth attempt, the sun god Tonatiuh took the throne; people remained people—or rather, Aztecs—and await the day when a widespread catastrophe strikes them as well, in this case an earthquake.
The creation of this world was a consensus among the gods, who decided in Teotihuacán to leave nothing to chance and joined forces. They started from scratch; the two former adversaries, Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl, therefore descended from the heavens, but encountered the monster Tlaltecuhtli, standing above the endless waters. They hadn’t counted on something like this, nor did they want to, so they decided to destroy the monster. They succeeded (Tezcatlipoca lost a leg in the process, which is strange, since they attacked in the form of snakes); they tore Tlaltecuhtli in half, with the upper part becoming land and the lower part becoming the sky. To prevent it from falling onto the newly formed earth, the Feathered Serpent and Tezcatlipoca, in the form of trees, supported it.
However, friction soon arose within this building partnership, and Quetzalcóatl had to intervene once again in one of the disputes over authority, this time by cutting out the hearts of the gods who had decided to sacrifice themselves with an obsidian knife. He thus set a precedent that meant an unpleasant certainty of ritual death in the same manner for thousands of people.
For the time being, there was no one to sacrifice; the world of the Fifth Sun functioned, but it was uninhabited. It was once again the Feathered Serpent whom the gods chose from among their ranks to solve this problem; the god therefore set out for the underworld to bring back the bones of the inhabitants of the previous age. There are at least two versions of the story of this adventurous expedition, in which a simple request to Mictlantehuctli, the lord of the underworld who initially agreed, took a turn, and neither of them fits here anymore. In the end, however, it was a success; the fifth generation of human beings saw the light of day—with one minor, unplanned flaw: they had nothing to eat. This presented another task for the Feathered Serpent. While his divine colleagues searched unsuccessfully and scoured the land to no avail, Quetzalcóatl noticed a red ant carrying a grain; disguised as a black ant, he secretly followed it into the heart of Mount Tonacapétl, where he found vast reserves of corn kernels and seeds of other cultivated crops.
The final great act in the creation of the world, performed by the Feathered Serpent—this time, however, in the form of the wind deity Ehécatl—was introducing humanity to alcohol, which you can read about in the story of Mayáhuel.
At the beginning, I also mentioned the famous Toltec ruler Ce Ácatl Topiltzin Quetzalcóatl, the Central American equivalent of the European King Arthur. Just like the legendary Celtic ruler, Ce Ácatl Topiltzin most likely actually existed. The Aztecs, who held their Toltec predecessors in the highest regard, naturally wrapped historical events in a complex web of mythological and religious relationships. First and foremost, they drew Quetzalcoatl’s usual adversary, Tezcatlipoca, into the story and made Topiltzin’s parents into gods. And his nurse as well.
In any case, Topiltzin was born in exile after his father’s death, led his people out of the Mexican Basin, founded Tollán, and was driven out of it as well. In the meantime, he managed to improve the calendar (for which Central American civilizations are renowned), perfect metallurgy, and introduce several important revolutionary elements in agriculture.
On the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, after losing a conflict with his father’s enemies, he ceremonially immolated himself to become the Morning Star. Or he rose from the dead, or perhaps sailed across the ocean to the east, which, thanks to the Spanish conquerors, is the best-known version. It was this version that Hernán Cortés exploited, presenting himself as the incarnation of Quetzalcóatl.
Illustration by author unknown, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
4.5.2026 (28.11. 2007)
It is fifty Indian paces long and inhabits the brackish waters at the mouth of the Amazon, South America’s great river. Like any such creature—that is, a sea monster—it is dangerous, if only because it feeds by sucking in water within reach of its mouth and swallowing every living thing it contains. That is why the local natives protect themselves with a simple anti-monster technique: before entering the water, they blow a conch shell; if the yacu mama is nearby, it will surface at the sound. If it does not surface, it is not nearby.
Which does not mean that something else cannot devour the trumpeter.
4.5.2026 (4.11.2007)
A six-legged, horned water monster that haunts Serbia, where it emerges from the lake at night and roars. It also likes to pounce on people and animals, terrifying them and strangling them.
4.5.2026 (11.11.2007)
Drekavac is also a screamer, though in this case the sound is of a somewhat different nature. It is, in fact, the soul of an unbaptized child, haunting Serbia and Bosnia.
Although it is often a schoolyard bogeyman, the Drekavac’s sphere of influence is broader; as an apparition, it foretells death (in the form of a child to people, in the form of an animal to livestock). As a child, it also appears near cemeteries and begs passersby for baptism. Records, however, also mention a bird-like form, the shape of a canine beast with slightly longer hind legs, and a body with an unnaturally large head.
The most common time for its activity is early spring and the two-week period before Christmas, which would suggest a pagan origin. Another of the drekavac’s practices is also connected to this: in some places, it manifests as a nightmare and suffocates people in their sleep. Nightmares are a somewhat vulgarized and simplified form of doppelgangers; doppelgangers are linked to the afterlife, and the afterlife has always been associated with the cycle of vegetation.
4.5.2026 (11.11.2007)
In Herzegovina, they call him Plakavac, but a similar creature is known throughout the Slavic world. Actually, not just there.
The soul of a newborn suffocated by its own mother transforms into a small spirit. It does nothing but rise from the grave at night, walk around the house, and cry.
4.5.2026 (11.11.2007)
They have much in common, particularly their shape, size, and origin; the latter refers to their cultural context, as they are two gigantic birds from Jewish mythology.
The first, Bar Yuchne, is related to Roc, and like him (and similar flying creatures from other parts of the world), he is so large that when he spreads his wings, he causes a solar eclipse. A story is often told about an egg that fell from its nest atop a mountain. It broke three hundred trees and flooded sixty villages.
Although the second, Ziz, appears quite often in modern Jewish fairy tales today, it is a creature more mythical and less folkloric than the previous bird. He is often associated with the leviathan and the behemoth, each representing the greatest in its element. He, too, can block out the sun with his wings, though size is not the point here; Ziz was created as the king and protector of all birds, and without him, these descendants of dinosaurs would have gone extinct. This brings to mind even older legends...
Ziz is similar to the Persian Simurgh not only in character but also in physical features.
4.5.2026 (18.11.2007)
"Things just happen. What the hell."
Didaktylos*
* Terry Pratchett. Hogfather
Welcome to my world. For the longest time I couldn’t think of right name for this place, so I left it without one. Amongst things you can find here are attempts of science fiction and fantasy stories, my collection of gods, bogeymen and monsters and also articles about things that had me interested, be it for a while or for years. (There is more of this, sadly not in English but in Czech, on www.fext.cz)
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