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In six months welcome to Lore Legends.

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A subset of Lore episodes that explore.

Alex Robinson (0:57)

The strange tales we whisper in the dark, even if they can't always be proven by the history books. So if you're ready, let's begin. On Christmas Day of 1929, Charlie killed his entire family. Charlie Lawson had been married to his wife Fannie for 18 years and the two had made a beautiful family together. By 1929 they had seven children, ranging from 16 all the way down to four months old. Together they worked a tobacco farm and as far as we know, they were happy with their lots in life. But something must have snapped inside of Charlie because on December 25th, he killed them. He started by shooting his 12 year old daughter Carrie and 7 year old daughter Mabelle as they were leaving to visit their aunt. After that, he went to the house gunning down his wife and his remaining children. And then he took his own life. The only survivor was the oldest son, Arthur, who had been out rabbit hunting during the entire ordeal. By the time he returned, it had already been turned into one of the most gory crime scenes that North Carolina had ever seen. And among the many reports that followed, they say investigators found a Christmas poem tucked next to the victims, covered in their blood. 1500 people attended the funeral where baby Marilu was buried in her mother's arms. Afterwards, newspapers claimed that the surviving son, Arthur, couldn't eat and couldn't sleep. His entire life had been ruined over the course of a single day by a monster. It seems that even the most wonderful time of the year can give way to monsters. After all, it's not a magical date on the calendar that prevents evil from stepping stepping inside. Big or small, minor or tragic, every Holiday celebration is vulnerable to some sort of monster. For the Lawson family, that monster was Charlie. Thankfully, though, when it comes to Christmas, human monsters are rare, something we can all be grateful for. But folklore tells us that there are plenty of other monsters to be afraid of, and Christmas is their favorite holiday of all. I'm Aaron Manke, and this is Lore Legends. For many of us, the time between Christmas and January is just an exhausted blur. The excitement of the holiday is over and everything feels cold and gray. It's sort of a purgatory, if purgatory can involve Christmas dinner leftovers and a mountain of cardboard boxes to recycle. Still, there's something undeniably dark about that period. Things just feel off. Well, it turns out that there may be a creature to blame for that, and it's called the Kalacanteri. This Christmas creature comes from southeastern Europe and has long been a part of the folklore from Greece, Turkey, Bulgaria, Serbia, Albania, Bosnia and Cyprus. In Greek, kalikantery means beautiful centaur, while the Turkish roots for the name can be translated to mean bloodsucker. Two very different words, I know, and neither are very accurate. These creatures live in the bottomless abyss of the underworld. They have long tails and their twisted bodies are covered in black hair, a hybrid of different animal parts. Many say that they have boar tusks, horse legs, elongated ears, goat feet and monkey arms. And of course, their eyes glow a bright blood red. But their overall appearance varies depending on who is telling the story. In some tales, they're large, but most versions claim that they're actually quite small. Some regions in Greece say that they have long tongues that hang out of their mouths and drag behind them. Others say that they're mostly blind and that they hobble around with a limp. In Albania, they're believed to carry chains and torment people with them. And strangely enough, these chain wielding versions are also believed to have very bad breath. In Serbia, they are short, fat creatures that jump on the backs of their victims and ride them like horses. And in Bulgaria, they can shapeshift into just about any barnyard creature, be it goat, sheep, calf, dog, or even another human. In the most popular version of the folklore, it's said that for most of the year, the Kalikantery are stuck in the underworld, chopping away at the World Tree. The World Tree, by the way, was believed to have supported the earth, and without its branches, the planet would fall into the abyss, plunging humans into a world of darkness and violence. And for some reason, these creatures decided that their life mission was to make sure that that happened Once a year, though, they were able to make it to the surface. According to Greek mythology, the barrier between our world and the underworld grows thin during the winter solstice. And so, between Christmas and January 6, the Kalikanteri tear through the veil to wreak havoc on the world. Their purpose, to disrupt the joy of the season. Once they're among us, they only come out at night. But despite that limited time frame, they're still good at making things chaotic. They destroy people's homes and furniture, hide personal belongings, frighten away livestock, cause food to spoil, and play practical jokes. And if you're a child of the 80s and you're picturing gremlins in your mind, I am right there with you. These creatures, by the way, have even been known to kidnap people. Usually, they kidnap children. Those who are born on Christmas Day are particularly at risk of being spirited away. But they've also been known to snatch grown adults off the streets and force them to dance until they pass out or even mimic the voice of a loved one to lure unsuspecting people out into the cold. Lost and confused, their victims often die frozen in the cold winter night before they can find their way back home. Of course, no one really wants these things to hang about, so people have developed methods to keep them away. And they work. Well, sort of. Some people burn a stinky old shoe in the fireplace to repel the creatures, while others choose to burn a gigantic log throughout the 12 days of Christmas in the hopes that the flames will keep the Kalikantery from sneaking down the chimney. Some people scatter ashes around their house every day, and others hang a black cross, a pig's jawbone, or a holly branch to warm ward off the evil creatures. Others go in the exact opposite direction, leaving sweet pastries on their rooftops in the hopes that the Kalikantry will be satisfied and leave the humans inside alone. The most interesting lore about these creatures, though, is that some people can turn into one. According to legend, babies born during the twelve days of Christmas are at risk of transforming into callacantary once they reach adulthood. Another version of the legend says that any baby born on a Saturday, any Saturday across the year, could become one as well. The only way to prevent this terrible fate is to swaddle the baby in garlic and straw and to use a flame to singe their toenails. Honestly, it's like a twisted Christmas werewolf story. Some people were just destined to transform into evil monsters, and their torment would last long beyond the holiday season. Thankfully, babies who have grown up to sprout boar's tusks and terrorize their neighbors are few and far between. Your children probably aren't at risk of becoming kalacantery, especially if you're willing to have them smell like garlic for a little bit. But if you're feeling particularly down this December and nothing seems to go right, consider lighting a fire and hanging a talisman on your door. The supernatural assault on your Christmas cheers won't last forever. It will disappear in the new year. Most of us know about Krampus, otherwise known as Santa's evil shadow. But few Americans have ever heard of Nacht Rupprecht. The Germans are excellent at creating Santa Claus adjacent figures, and Nacht Rupprecht is no different. Except, unlike the more famous Krampus, this one isn't exactly an explicitly evil version of Father Christmas. Instead, he's a bit more complicated than that. You see, he's considered Santa's sidekick, for lack of a better term, a sort of necessary foil to Father Christmas goodwill, the bad cop to Santa's good cop, if you will. According to the German legend, Necht Rupprecht accompanies St Nicholas while going door to door. Santa gives candy to the good boys and girls, and Necht Ruprecht handles the naughty ones. At each house, he consults a giant book that gives a full record of every misdeed children committed that year. If he finds that a child of the current household is included in that book, he asks them to recite a prayer to atone for their past sins. If the kid can say the prayers, then all is well. They get fruits and sweets as a reward, and St. Nicholas and Nech Rupprecht go on their merry way. But the trouble comes when a child can't properly recite their prayers. Whenever that's the case, Nekht Ruprecht takes a bag stuffed with ashes and beats the child with it. Then he gives the naughty kid a lump of coal or a stick and gives their parents a switch so that they can beat their disobedient child even more. Sometimes the child is so beyond redemption that Nect Rupprek doesn't even bother with the beatings at all. He just scoops the child up into a sack and kidnaps them. Now, typically, Necht Ruppricht is depicted as either a dark, foreboding figure or as a wild man with a long beard. He's dressed in a drab brown or black robe with a pointed hood, a tradition which still exists in Christmas hat designs today. Sometimes he's depicted wearing fur, and usually he has a long, thick stick in one hand, which he uses to corral children into his sack of ashes. Today, his image has softened a bit. When he goes door to door, he doesn't often beat the children or kidnap them anymore. He usually just looms behind Santa and warns kids not to misbehave. And here, in the 21st century, he is celebrated alongside St Nicholas on December 6, which is when the two are believed to go house to house, leaving candy and coal in children's shoes. Of course, there are a multitude of descriptions for Nacht Rupprecht based on the region. In Austria, particularly around Salzburg, he is less of a main character and more of a true helper to St. Nicholas. And he doesn't take direct action against the naughty kids. In some areas of Germany, he doesn't travel with Father Christmas at all and visits homes on his own. In other regions, they say he actually travels with a whole host of his own helpers, creatures like fairies or men dressed as old women. But his most commonly accepted role is that of St. Nicholas, intimidating partner. There are a lot of different opinions on how he became a staple in German Christmas traditional. He's believed to have first appeared in medieval times, but some say his roots can be traced back to German paganism, where it's possible that he was some kind of protective household spirit that showed up around the winter solstice. While Krampus was originally linked to Satan and witchcraft, Nec Ruprich's origins were slightly more positive. Despite the fact that the name Rupricht can be translated to mean devil, it was believed that while children should be rewarded for their goodness, it was equally as important to punish them for their misbehaviors. Originally, the church believed that this task fell to the saints, who traveled with St. Nicholas to discipline the tiny sinners. But eventually, local folklore took over and the Germans replaced the saints with Necht Rupprecht, and it made sense. If punishing children was done for their own good, then a protective spirit would be the right guy for the job. Even though scholars are pretty sure that he first popped up in the medieval era, the first surviving written record of his existence only dates back to the 17th century, and he was popularized by the Brothers Grimm, who depicted him as a sort of elf who could be both kind and malevolent. And just as there are different versions of Nectarupric's role at Christmas time, the folklore around his origins is equally as varied. Some stories claim that he was an abandoned child who St Nicholas found and raised himself. Others say that he has always existed as some kind of demon or Wild man. And for some reason, he has decided to only show himself to the masses in December. But my personal favorite story, taking on the mantle of Nec Rupprecht is not a part of his nature at all. Instead, it was used as a punishment. According to the legend, St Nicholas went into an inn only to discover a heinous crime when he walked inside. The innkeeper, you see, had murdered three children and was trying to stuff their bodies into a barrel. Enraged, St. Nicholas brought the boys back to life. And then, turning to the innkeeper, he bound the evil man to his side, forcing him to toil away with him for all eternity. I think it's safe to say that most children don't want to see a serial killer coming to beat them up. If I were a child in Germany, I would certainly mind my manners in anticipation of Nec Ruprik's visit. And that's the entire point of his character. He wasn't truly created to punish children. He was created to scare them into good behavior. He's a Yuletide boogeyman coming to get the kids if they slack off on their chores or talk back to their parents. So if you have a little one, consider telling them the story of Necked Ruprecht this holiday season. It just may traumatize them into giving you a quiet Christmas. If you're a kid, the most boring gift in the world is clothing. Very few 8 year olds have ever dreamed of running downstairs on Christmas morning just to unwrap a package of socks. But in one country, an entire nation's worth of children have been told that they should be just as excited about a new shirt as they are for a new toy, because the only other option is death. Now that might sound like a dramatic reaction to a child's ungratefulness, but the parents aren't the ones who will be doing the killing. You see, in Iceland, if children are good, then they'll get a new sweater for Christmas. But if they're not, then they'll be eaten by a cat. Now, it may sound ridiculous, but this creature is no cuddly kitten known as the Jolikatarin or the Yule cat. The monstrous cat is big enough to eat a full grown man, and some stories even claim that it's taller than a multi story house. The beast prowls through the cold Icelandic night, going from home to home to find its Christmas dinner. Tragically, that dinner almost certainly doesn't involve figgy pudding. The Yule cat only eats children. And more specifically, it only eats children who don't receive any new Clothes for Christmas. Now, every year, parents all over Iceland promise to get their kids new clothes if they're good. And it seems to work too. Anything from a turtleneck to a pair of novelty fuzzy socks protects the country's youth from the Yule cat. But if a parent decides that their problem child just isn't worth keeping around anymore, well, no new clothes and no more Christmases for little Johnny. The trouble with this tradition is that unlike most other malicious Christmas monsters, kids can't do anything to control the final outcome. In fact, Iceland may be the only place in the world where you'll find kids begging their parents for socks for Christmas. But if their parents forget to put knitwear under the tree, then their child is out of luck, no matter if they were naughty or nice that year. As far as holiday traditions go, this one is a bit dark. And if you're wondering how it all came about, well, you're not the only one. Folklorists have debated the origins of this bloodthirsty Christmas critter for a long time. The Yule cat as a monster first popped up in the 19th century, which, as far as folklore goes, is fairly recent. But some believe that the cat's history stretches back further than that. Some have suggested that the Yule cat is actually connected to the much older Celtic Quetchi, which is an Irish fairy that often took the form of a large cat. They speculate that the Celts may have come to Iceland long before the Vikings ever did, and they might have brought the Cait sit with them. Others have suggested that it was actually connected to the Scandinavian folklore of the Christmas goat, which was an allegorical stand in for the devil during holiday festivals. Somehow this bloodthirsty cat evolved from some earlier legend. And in 1932, a poem about the Yule cat cemented its role as a staple in Icelandic holiday lore. The poem made the cat so popular that today it's even featured on decorations and Christmas cards. The one thing that the poem didn't mention, though, was who the Yule cat hangs out with. But people have come up with their own ideas for that. You see, somehow everyone started associating the Yule cat with the monster Grila. Grila is a witchy troll like woman who has also become a part of Icelandic Christmas tradition. In some stories, she has three heads. She's best known for kidnapping children and boiling them in her cauldron. And of course, she has a fearsome pet to help her out in her evil schemes. You guessed it, the Yule cat. Now, as far as we Know, there's no original historical record that actually connects the two monsters. These Christmas beasts just seem to have bonded over a shared love of eating kids. And it's been a match in heaven or hell ever since. Based on the local folklore, I would say that Christmas is not the most wonderful time of the year for Iceland's children. Their best bet to survive the holiday season is just to pray that no monsters come knocking. And of course, that their parents don't forget to buy them a new sweater. Most of us don't think of monsters as Christmas characters. We look at the holidays with rose colored glasses and a bit of delight. Between the cookies, the presents, the music, and the fun parties, there really isn't any room for shadows, is there? And yet, folklore tells us something very different. Yes, it gives us a lot of delightful stories to hang our family traditions on, but it also seems to hold a number of creatures that deserve a bit of fear. And the Yule cat seems to be a prime example of that. I get it, though. The idea of keeping a monster at bay with nothing but a pair of socks is a silly idea. And maybe that's all. The story started out as just a funny little moment to keep everyone's spirits bright through the winter solstice. But when you dig a little deeper, you'll see that there's more to it than that. When the Yule cat was first invented, families couldn't just pop down to their local mall for a sweater. If they wanted it, they had to make it. And winter was the perfect time to do it. Spinning wool and knitting clothing was actually vital to survival during the winter months. In fact, for most families, that was their main occupation during the coldest times of the year. Day after day, they converted sheep's wool into garments that would keep their family warm. Because of that, for a child to get a new pair of socks at Christmas, that gift required long hours of concentration, and the entire family had to chip in. And that's where the story of the Yule cat comes in. If children are told that they will be eaten for not getting clothes at Christmas, then they will do anything to make sure that they get clothes for Christmas. They will help with the chores, spin wool alongside their family, and knit enough yarn to last through the entire winter. The Yule cat was a reminder to Iceland's children that laziness was bad and work was good. But there's a darker side to the Yule cat where the realities of real life brought the folklore to life. You see, back then, the poorest families weren't able to provide this work and this gift that it created to their kids. Instead, the children received nothing, triggering under the rules of folklore, the Yule cats hungry arrival and in the bitter cold of the Christmas season, these poor, hungry and often homeless children would be the first to die. Real life was brutal and harsh, especially in a climate like that, and those conditions often led to death. Death that made the stories true. If I'm honest, it's never been easy to give you all an episode of Dark Tragic legends in the cheerful holiday season. It's a time with fewer shadows and a lot less to be afraid of. But every rule has a few exceptions. So I hope you enjoyed your tour through a few of the darker legends from Christmas past. If you learned something new today, consider it my gift to you. But not every Christmas creature is something to be afraid of. In fact, some of them want to help us, not harm us. At least most of the time. So I put together one last story to show you what I mean. Stick around through this brief sponsor break to hear all about it.