Mythical Monday: Nautical Superstitions, by Mae Clair

Posted on April 22, 2013 by Mae Clair

Whether it’s ghost ships, sea lore, or whispered tales of phantom winds and water sprites, I’ve always been intrigued by the murky depths of the sea. From ancient times to present, the underwater world has harbored creatures both serene and foul. And, oh, so interesting!

The Old Testament references the leviathan, a mighty seabeast, while legends passed through generations speak of floating islands, vanished cities, and merpeople who live beneath the waves.

But what of the brave men and women who attempted to tame the sea or, at the very least, exist within its dominion? Even today, sailors are a superstitious lot, many of their beliefs retained from an earlier age when water haunts and sea serpents were commonly recognized and feared.

While writing TWELFTH SUN, a novel which centers around a maritime artifact, I had the occasion to sort through a host of nautical superstitions. I referenced a few in the book, but much of the research was strictly for fun. I grew up reciting “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning.” Remember that? I still often mentally conjure that sing-song verse when I notice a red sky.

But that tidbit of seafaring superstition wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy the myth-monger in me, so I went diving for more. Here are some of my favorite nautical superstitions:

Untying knots in a rope bring favorable winds.

Knitting hair into the toe of a sailor’s sock will bring him back to you.

If a sailor dreams of a horse, it is an omen of high seas.

Disaster will follow if you step onboard a vessel with your left foot first.

A ship’s bell will always ring when it is wrecked.

If St. Elmo’s Fire appears around a sailor’s head, he will die within a day.

A woman onboard a ship will make the sea angry. Unless, she’s naked which will calm the sea. (Gee, wasn’t that a convenient superstition for sailors and pirates?)

Never rename a ship, for it is bad luck.

A ship’s name ending in “a” is unlucky.

Nail a shark’s tail to the bow of a ship and it will ward off other sharks. (Of course, you’ve still got the problem of convincing a shark to give up its tail. I don’t imagine there were a lot of volunteers for that job).

The feather of a wren will protect a sailor from death by shipwreck.

Death comes with an ebb tide and birth with a rising tide.

Black traveling bags are bad luck for a seaman.

A silver coin placed under the masthead ensures a successful voyage. Pouring wine on the deck also brings good luck.

Gulls harbor the souls of sailors lost at sea.

There are a host of other superstitions, but these are a few of my favorites. Next Monday, I have one particular belief I want to share, including how it gave birth to an entire urban legend. Intrigued? I hope you’ll be back next week for the details.

In the meantime, are there any superstitions you adhere to, nautical or otherwise? I tend to knock on wood a lot and I’m freaky about the number thirteen. What makes you superstitious?

Mythical Monday: Cryptozoology and the Yeti, by Mae Clair

Posted on March 25, 2013 by Mae Clair

It’s Mythical Monday! As I write this post, it’s a brisk Sunday afternoon but, by the time it publishes, my area will likely be in the midst of a snowstorm. Yes, a snowstorm. On the 25^th day of March, when temperatures should be in the mid-50 range, the forecast is for 2 to 5 inches of snow, possibly more in some areas. Mother Nature clearly didn’t get the message to “spring forward” with the rest of us.

As a result, for today’s Mythical Monday, I dug up the “cold facts” on a creature who is fond of ice and snow—the Yeti, also known as the Abominable Snowman. You probably remember the lumbering beast Bumble from Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer who lost his vicious bite when Hermie the elf removed his teeth. Poor guy. Fortunately, he was a softie at heart and ended up putting the star on Santa’s Christmas tree.

But the real Abominable is an enormous ape-like creature residing in the harsh terrain of the Himalaya Mountains. Yeti communicate by a series of whistling sounds and shrieks. Because of their size and backward pointing feet their capacity for speed is limited, but what they lack in agility they more than make up in strength. These ginormous, muscular creatures are able to hurl large boulders which they use as a defense (not that I imagine they have many predators!).

Like Bigfoot, the Yeti is one of the most popular creatures in cryptozoology, having spawned numerous expeditions. Oddly, some believe spying a Yeti brings ill fortune, illness or even death. That hasn’t stopped researchers, however, from venturing into the creature’s cold, inhospitable domain.

Sir Edmond Hillary was probably the most famous. One of the first two men to climb Mt. Everest, he later led a 1960 expedition sponsored by the World book Encyclopedia. Despite been equipped with trip-wire cameras, infrared and time lapse photography, the expedition failed to find definitive proof of the Yeti’s existence. The group returned with pelts and a scalp later identified as belonging to a rare blue bear and a serow goat.

One man, however, professes to owe his life to the Yeti. Captain d’Auvergue, curator of the Victoria Memorial in Calcutta, India experienced a bout of snow blindness while traversing the Himalayas alone in 1938. Suffering from exposure and on the brink of death, d’Auvergue claimed he was nursed back to health by a yeti.

Still the debate rages on. As with most famed creatures of cryptozoology—the Loch Ness Monster, Sasquatch, and the Colossal Squid (not to be confused with the Giant Squid)—the Yeti continues to inspire new research, dispute and speculation. I certainly don’t expect to see an Abominable in the 2 to 5 inches of snow forecast for my area, but on this cold and blustery Monday, the Yeti seemed a fitting mythical choice.

What is your favorite creature from cryptozoology or myth?

Mythical Monday: The Lore of the Leprechaun by Mae Clair

Posted on March 18, 2013 by Mae Clair

Top ‘o the morning to you! My friend, Christina McKnight, is splashing my cover for TWELFTH SUN on her blog today. Given I’m so besotted with it, I had to make sure everyone knew it was available for another gander. If you’re interested, you can find it here.

And yes, I know St. Patrick’s Day has passed, but I couldn’t let a Mythical Monday slip by without a tip of the hat to such a momentous celebration. Enjoy a virtual green beer on me while I trot out a much beloved figure from myth.

Remember when you were a kid, and you wanted to catch a leprechaun? If you were like me, it had nothing to do with that legendary pot of gold. What was gold to a kid? The allure was the idea of a magical wee creature who could move between worlds. Spying a leprechaun meant maybe, just maybe, the veil between everyday reality and a hidden otherworld grew thin enough to cross over. What child wouldn’t want to explore a fairytale realm where enchantment was king?

Shoemakers by trade, Leprechauns were mostly solitary, but they enjoyed a good reel with the fiddle and tin whistles at night. Kindred to the Fair Folk, they were descended from the great Tuatha Dé Danann, and squirreled their gold away in buried pots. If you were crafty enough to catch a leprechaun and kept your eye fixed on him, he’d have to reveal the location of his gold when asked. One blink, however, and he quickly vanished from sight.

When I was a kid, there was a huge open field across the street from where I lived. It backed up to the rear yards of the houses on that side and stretched the entire length of the neighborhood. It was a magical place fully of whimsy. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was an enchanted realm all its own. There were walnut trees and wild flowers, clusters of honeysuckle and patches of sun-sweetened strawberries. When dusk settled, my friends and I gathered to watch bats launch from the tops of snarled dark trees. In the winter we donned skates and glided on frozen ground water beneath the full moon. Autumn was perfect for gathering acorns and trekking to the ‘big hill’ that sprouted from the earth like a mythical fairy mound.

I never did find a leprechaun in that magical kingdom, not that I ever put any great energy into the search. I preferred to imagine one of the wee folk watching from beneath a shaded leaf or a plump toadstool. The problem with magic is that when captured, the enchantment fades. Perhaps that is why leprechauns and pots of gold only exist at the end of rainbows. Rainbows have no end.

I don’t have a drop of Irish blood in my veins – - I’m Italian and German with a smidgen of Brit mixed in – - but I think all of us feel a connection to the Emerald Isle, especially during the month of March. So whether you’re Irish (Hi, Emma!) or just honorary for the day like me, here’s hoping your day is filled with rainbows and the blessings of the wee folk.

Was there place that held magic for you as a child?

Mythical Monday: The Boogeyman and Other Childhood Monsters, by Mae Clair

Posted on March 11, 2013 by Mae Clair

Childhood days are filled with fun, a time of delight and discovery. But children also have vivid imaginations for conjuring the denizens of make-believe. Like most otherworldly elements, the fantastical is inhabited with beings of light and dark.

Most of us remember the boogeyman under the bed, a malevolent creature born from the blood of midnight, dust and shadow. When darkness settled, the boogeyman left its realm, oozing to life through the floorboards beneath a child’s bed. We knew better than to dangle a hand or foot over the edge of the mattress. The temptation was a blatant invitation for the boogeyman to “get us.” Although it was never really clear what that amounted to, we knew it would be terrifying.

Trying to convince an adult of the boogeyman’s existence was pointless. Once a light switch was activated, or a parent peered under the bed to reassure us, the boogeyman retreated, seeping back through the floorboards before it could be spied. Clever and ghastly, it wasn’t the only menacing creature to haunt our bedroom.

Kindred of the boogeyman, the closet monster was every bit as sinister. Like the boogeyman it appeared at night, summoned when a closet door was left standing ajar. That crack, no matter how minuscule, summoned it with the lure of slipping into our world. Shut the closet and the monster would be trapped inside. For all its menacing presence, it was powerless to open the door on its own.

With the closet monster contained and the boogeyman prowling beneath the bed, that left only the dark enchantment born from the night. Wind, moonlight and shadow had the power to turn everyday tree branches into writhing snakes and skeletal fingers. When those same grasping fingers tapped against night-blackened window panes, we knew the danger lurking outside actively sought a way indoors.

In the morning, the touch of sunlight banished all dark creatures to their shadow-draped warrens and we could almost believe the danger wouldn’t return. Almost. In the bright wash of daylight, darkness and the denizens that inhabited its realm held no power.

We rode bikes, raced across open fields, picked wild strawberries and climbed trees. When dusk fell, we danced with fireflies, told ghost stories and played hide-and-seek. Twilight was magical, nothing to fear. But night eventually settled, forcing us to crawl into bed, certain the boogeyman had returned.

Somehow, despite all the ghoulish creatures that wanted to “get us,” we emerged from childhood unscathed. In time, we reached an age where they no longer existed, and ceased to trouble our sleep.

Maybe it’s just me, but dangling my hand over the edge of the bed is something that still gives me pause. Even as logic tells me there is nothing down there, I get that shivery sensation that has me snatching my hand back to safety after a short time. Silly? Yes. But a writer’s imagination is every bit as vivid as a child’s. How about yours?

Bet honest. How comfortable are you dangling a hand or foot over the edge of the bed? What nighttime creatures frightened you in childhood?

Mythical Monday: Berserkr Bloodlust by Mae Clair

Posted on March 4, 2013 by Mae Clair

Happy Mythical Monday, friends! Let’s start today with a question–how would you like to face a towering, snarling, foaming-at-the-mouth Norse warrior whose sole purpose in life was to bring destruction and death?

No? Well, “Berserkrs” as they were known, lived for the sole intent of wreaking havoc on their enemies. Brutal, blood-thirsty kill-at-all cost havoc. These guys were specialized warriors who normally dressed in a shirt or coat made from the pelt of a bear–which they probably mauled to death with their teeth and hands. Okay, author opinion. Point is they were lethal.

As much as I’m a fan of Norse mythology, the legend of Berserkrs is not one I can warm up to. When under the influence of the berserkergang (the fit of madness that drove normally sane men to become killing machines), a Berserkr didn’t have the mental capacity to tell friend from foe. Bad news if you had one in the family.

The fit could befall them in battle but also when engaged in physical labor. Intense toil of any kind paved the way for a trance-like state, during which the Berserkr could perform feats impossible for mere mortals. The onslaught usually began with a bout of shivering and teeth-chattering. The man’s face swelled and changed color, all signals for anyone in the vicinity to hightail it in the opposite direction. Once consumed by the berserkergang, the man flew into a blind rage, howling like an animal, destroying everything in his path. Neither fire nor iron had any effect on a Berserkr. Clubs and blunt instruments were the best defense, but the odds of bringing a Berserkr down were slim. When the episode was over, the man succumbed to a feeble state of mind which could last for days.

There are some people who attribute the werewolf legend to Berserkrs, one an offshoot of the other. In some tales, a Berserkr is able to change into animal form and become a bear or wolf. It’s also rumored certain medical conditions or consuming food or drink with psychoactive drugs was responsible for creating the berserkergang.

Some Nordic warriors deliberately sought to induce the madness by working themselves into a blood fury before combat. Many times they strode naked into battle but for a bear skin. Reputation and terror were great for leveling a battlefield. If you saw a gigantic nude warrior charging toward you howling like an animal, impervious to swords and fire, you’d hoist the surrender flag and turn tail. Exactly what many of the Norsemen’s foes did.

I enjoy reading about Vikings. I especially love a good Viking romance with a Norse hero. Just leave the berserkgang tendency someplace else please. What about you? Are you a Viking girl/guy or do you prefer another type of hero/heroine in your stories?

Mae Clair’s Mythical Monday: The Nine Lives of Cats

Posted on February 25, 2013 by Mae Clair

Arafel, my first cat came from a litter of farm kittens. I always told her she looked like a little woodland creature from myth.

I love all animals, but cats are my favorite. As a kid I grew up with cats, dogs, goldfish, hamsters, gerbils, a parakeet, tropical fish and even a chinchilla. As an adult, I bonded with cats and never looked back. These animals have alternately been revered and feared throughout time. From the ancient Egyptians who worshipped them as demi-gods, to the people of Medieval England who believed them to be the accomplices of witches, felines have known extreme highs and lows. Perhaps this is the reason they are said to have nine lives.

More likely, the cat’s agility and its uncanny self-righting mechanism allowing it to survive falls from great heights, is where the myth originated. Felines are extremely graceful, swift, and able to squeeze into small spaces–traits that add to its undeniable mystique. Of all domesticated animals, the cat is the least tame. Like its wild kin, it is most active during early morning hours and at night, the best times for hunting prey. The nocturnal aspect of the cat and its ability to see in the dark also support the nine lives belief. Blessed with enhanced senses and fluid agility, this clever and crafty animal could easily live nine lifetimes.

McDoogal was a rescue cat who entered our lives a year after Arafel. I joke with my husband that McDoogal worshipped me. He was definitely MY cat.

When superstition was rampant, many believed a witch could take the form of her cat familiar nine times, thus giving the cat nine lives. Another tale related to the myth involves a cat entering a home where nine hungry children resided. Nine fish had been set out for the children to eat, but the cat devoured them all. The poor children died of starvation while the cat met an untimely end from gluttony. When the feline arrived in Heaven, God was so angered by its selfishness he made it fall to the earth for nine days. The nine lives of the children reside in the cat’s belly, which is why it must die nine times before finally being able to rest.

Sometimes those nine lives came in handy. Seafarers knew cats were able to predict storms, which is why they considered a cat onboard ship good luck. It wasn’t simply a matter of running roughshod over vermin.

That was something Noah knew about. When the ark set sail, there were no cats onboard. Rats and mice multiplied and soon overran the boat. In desperation, Noah asked the lion for help. The great beast sneezed and two cats were born, the only animal not originally created by God.

Onyx, my last lovely boy. Everyone said he was so handsome with his silky black coat he should have been a show cat. I preferred spoiling him rotten.

Whatever you believe, there’s no denying these frisky and entertaining animals have found a place in our hearts, whether for a single lifetime or nine. Disney gave us The Three Lives of Thomasina while Stephen King terrified us with Pet Sematary.

I prefer my cats cuddly and affectionate over Mr. King’s variety which is why I’m dedicating this post to the lovely felines who graced my life with companionship–Arafel, McDoogal and Onyx. All are gone now. It would have been nice had they hung around for eight more lifetimes!

To close, I leave you with one of my favorite cat quotes. Nothing against dogs, (I love them too), but I think this quote speaks volumes about the mind of a cat:

A dog looks at you and says, “You take care of me. You must be a god.” A cat looks at you and says, “You give me food and shelter. I must be a god.”

Wish I could credit it, but I don’t remember who said it.

What’s your take on cats (or dogs)? Do you have a favorite pet story or a strange superstition to share?

Mae Clair’s Mythical Monday: Resurrecting the #Mothman

Posted on February 4, 2013 by Mae Clair

Before I jump into today’s legend, I want to mention I’m also visiting with Sara-Jayne Townsend, sharing a post about fear. And that’s a perfect segue for my Mythical Monday topic.

Even if you don’t live in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, you’ve probably heard of the Mothman. Much like Bigfoot and the Abominable Snowman, this semi-human creature has reportedly been seen by numerous eyewitnesses. Most of the sightings, many documented, occurred during the mid-1960s.

In 1965, a woman told police her son had come in from playing and reported seeing an angel in the yard.

On November 15, 1966, Roger and Linda Scarberry, along with friends Steve and Mary Mallette, were driving toward Point Pleasant when they saw a large white creature, close to seven feet tall, standing on the side of the road. According to the four friends, the being had wings folded behind its back and red eyes that glowed in the darkness. It took to the air and followed their car as they drove. They described it to police as a ‘’flying man with ten foot wings.’’

Newell Partridge also saw the Mothman later that same night. He was watching TV when the screen suddenly went blank and emitted a loud whining noise, like a generator winding up. Outside, his dog Bandit, began howling. Partridge grabbed a flashlight and hurried to investigate.

Shining the beam around, he spied a creature near his barn, its eyes “two red circles which looked like bicycle reflectors.” Bandit raced after the creature while Partridge darted inside to grab a gun. He later told reporters he was certain the creature had not been an animal. It frightened him so baldy, he thought better of returning outside and slept with the gun by his bed throughout the night. In the morning, he discovered Bandit had disappeared. Tracks in the mud indicated his dog had run ‘round and ‘round in a mindless circle, as if chasing his tail.

Two days later, Partridge was reading the local paper when he stumbled over an article detailing what Roger Scarberry, his wife, and friends had witnessed the night Bandit disappeared. Scarberry reported seeing the body of a large dog on the side of the road during their drive into town. When he and the others left, returning by the same route, the body was gone.

Bandit never returned and Partridge never saw the dog again.

The bulk of Mothman sightings occurred from 1966 to 1967. During that period over 100 people reported seeing the creature, most on a tract of land about five miles north of Point Pleasant in an area locally known as the TNT Area. During WWII it was used to store ammunition and is located adjacent to what is now a wildlife management station. Densely forested with steep hills, wetlands and tunnels, it’s a virtual labyrinth of secluded hiding places.

Many believe the Mothman sightings of ’66 and ’67 were an omen of looming catastrophe.

Tragedy struck on the bitterly cold day of December 15, 1967. Rush hour traffic was at its peak when the Silver Bridge connecting Point Pleasant to Kanauga, Ohio, abruptly collapsed. Thirty-one cars fell into the icy waters of the Ohio River, resulting in forty-six deaths. Two of the victims were never found, their bodies forever claimed by the frigid river.

Were the Mothman’s appearances and the collapse of the bridge related?

An eyebar-chain suspension bridge built in 1928 and named for the color of its aluminum paint, the Silver Bridge was not well-maintained and was known to sway in strong winds. The mayor at the time even banned its use during parades. Later analysis revealed the bridge collapse was caused by a small, 0.1 inch defect in a single eyebar—a straight metal bar with a hole at each end for connecting to other bars in the chain.

Scientific and rational scrutiny aside, it’s interesting to note sightings of the Mothman virtually stopped after the Silver Bridge collapse. Had the creature been trying to warn of impending danger?

Skeptics claim the Mothman may have been a sandhill crane, a bird that can reach a height of over three feet, with a six-foot wingspan. Given the wetlands and wildlife refuge nearby that may be a legitimate argument, but cryptozoologists and many residents of Point Pleasant believe otherwise.

If you visit the small town, don’t be surprised by the sight of an imposing stainless steel Mothman statue leering down at you. You can find “Mothy” in downtown Point Pleasant’s Gunn Park, a reminder of the brief span during the 1960s when sightings were rampant. You can also take part in the annual Mothman festival, held every September. Whatever you do, I caution against visiting the TNT Area. Who knows what danger lurks among the concrete munitions igloos and densely treed hillsides?

Harbinger of doom, or messenger sent to warn of danger, the Mothman legend continues today. I’m intrigued by it so much I’m already planning a novel!

Mae Clair’s Mythical Monday: Mesmerized by Mermaids

Posted on January 28, 2013 by Mae Clair

I’ve been holding off addressing nautical folklore and sea myths on my Mythical Monday posts, saving them for closer to the release of my contemporary romance/mystery TWELFTH SUN. I’m still on schedule for August having just wrapped my second round of content edits, but the pull of the sea is hard to resist

TWELFTH SUN is the name of a 19^th Century schooner I invented. An artifact from the ship becomes the focal point of a treasure hunt in which my novel’s hero and heroine find themselves competing. Ship lore has always fascinated me, so it was fun to sprinkle a few tidbits and superstitions throughout the book. No mythical creatures, however, so I thought I’d share some of those my blog, starting with the mermaid.

We’ve all heard the speculation that ancient mariners mistook the manatee for a mermaid, a belief that has always left me scratching my head. Don’t get me wrong – - I love manatees. They’re graceful in the water and gentle, but a man would have to be seriously lonely or swilling too much rum to mistake a 1200 lb. aquatic mammal for a sea nymph. Can you imagine the disappointment when reality set in?

But let’s assume mermaids did exist. Disney put a lovely HEA spin on the story of the Little Mermaid. As a child, I remember the fairytale ending differently and was saddened the mermaid and her prince couldn’t be together. In the original rendition, mermaids lack a soul, becoming sea foam when they die unlike humans who live for eternity.

One day the Little Mermaid spies a ship in the distance and immediately falls in love with a handsome prince she sees onboard. A storm arrives and he is tossed into the sea, unconscious, at the mercy of the waves. The Little Mermaid saves him and takes him ashore, staying beside him until she sees a human girl approaching. She slips into the sea before the prince awakes. When he does recover, he finds the human girl at his side and mistakenly believes she has rescued him.

Days pass, but the Little Mermaid is unable to forget her prince. Desperate to be with him, she visits a sea witch who gives her a potion in exchange for her beautiful voice. The potion gives her legs but every step she takes is agony, as if she is walking on swords. The witch tells her she will gain a soul if the prince loves her and marries her. Through true love’s kiss she will become a human but, should he marry another, she will turn into sea foam at dawn of the next day.

In love with her prince, the Little Mermaid drinks the potion. She finds him at his palace, but now mute, is unable to tell him she loves him or that she saved him from the sea. He is kind and attentive, but his heart belongs to the girl he believes rescued him. Eventually, he marries her and the Little Mermaid’s heart is broken.

That night, her sisters bring her a knife from the witch. She has one final chance to save herself– kill the prince before dawn, and she can return to the sea as a mermaid. Unable to do it, the Little Mermaid throws herself into the sea at daybreak, expecting to become foam. Instead, she is welcomed by the Daughters of the Air and told she will be granted a soul after 300 years of helping others.

Yeah.

Alrighty then.

I’m sure a lesson lurks in there somewhere, but I much prefer the Disney ending with the Little Mermaid marrying her prince. Even as a kid, I was all about an HEA. I’m all for classics, but sometimes you have to wonder about the guys who were writing them.

That aside, not all mermaids were interested in romantic love, especially with a human. They had strong devoted meremen of their own. In certain legends mermaids behaved much like the sirens of Greek mythology who lured sailors to their doom with enchanted signing. In some tales they rescued men from storm-tossed seas, while in others they spirited them to their underwater kingdom, drowning them in the process. As with most mythical creatures, there is a touch of beguiling enchantment and a darker side to the mermaid legend.

Which do you prefer?

Mae Clair’s Mythical Monday: Channeling Changelings

Posted on January 21, 2013 by Mae Clair

Hey, friends! It’s Mythical Monday!

Before, I kick off today’s star mythology player, I want to announce the winner of my Vampires vs. Werewolves Blog Hop giveaway. Congrats to Tracey D. who won an ebook copy of my paranormal/time travel romance, WEAHTERING ROCK. Tracey, I will contact you by email to see if you prefer a Kindle or Nook version.

Also, congratulations to Joder, who won the Kindle copy of Deborah Palumbo’s paranormal novel, THE UNDERPARTED. Deborah will contact you directly regarding her giveaway. Thanks to everyone who participated and dropped by my blog.

And now, I’d like to channel some changelings

There is an old legend that circulates among the varied cultures of Western Europe about humans who were spirited away by faeries, with changelings left in their place.

Although adults were often taken, infants were most at risk. New parents were wise to watch their babies closely and stand guard through the dark hours of the night until the day the child was baptized. Left untended for even a brief time, an unbaptized baby might be snatched away and replaced with the unwanted offspring of a faerie, elf or troll. To protect from such calamity, crucifixes or iron could be placed by the cradle as defensive wards. An article of the father’s clothing or a sprig of boxwood blessed by a priest served the same purpose.

Why would the Fae abandon their children? Many were born sickly or frail and deemed a nuisance by their ethereal parents who much preferred a healthy human babe. The changeling child would be placed in the cradle, characteristics like wizened, parchment skin and licorice-black eyes concealed by faerie glamour. Sometimes an enchanted piece of wood, called a stock, would be left instead, magic employed to make it look like the child. Unsuspecting parents wouldn’t realize what had happened until the changeling was presented for baptism and the touch of holy water made the child scream uncontrollably. If a stock, it would wither and die in a short time.

Although changelings were evil creatures, bringing ill fortune to those that housed them, they were not long for the mortal world. Perhaps because they were such a miserable lot, shrieking and howling throughout the day, biting, ravenous of appetite, delighting in mishap. They rarely lived more than two to three years, though even that span was a harsh eternity to any family burdened with one.

It’s no wonder attempts were made to drive the changeling off. Some methods included ignoring its constant wailing, abandoning it on a hillside, threatening it with a heated ploughshare or making it laugh. Given its nature, gaiety of any sort must have been equivalent to a death knell should it hang around. In many respects, it’s hard not to feel sorry for these wretched creatures who were unwanted by their natural parents. If the changeling was successfully driven away, even years later, the human child would be returned. Those who found their way back to their real parents reported being treated kindly in the Faerie Court. How pitiful the Fae didn’t extend that same courtesy and love to their own children.

I think of changelings as one of the darker aspects of fairytales and mythology. Although I can’t recall a specific book, I know I’ve read several tales in which changelings played a part. Can you think of any fairytale, book or movie that included a changeling? If you’d lived in a time/reality where changelings were real, do you think you could have sympathy for such a pathetic and malicious creature? Do you think a changeling could be turned if treated as a human child?

Mae Clair’s Mythical Monday: The Unicorn

Posted on January 7, 2013 by Mae Clair

Before venturing into the land of myth, I’m happy to announce that Ronda Tutt is the winner of my giveaway during the New Year’s Eve Blog Hop and will receive a $15 gift card to Amazon or Barnes & Noble, plus a copy of my paranormal/time travel romance, WEATHERING ROCK. Congratulations, Ronda!

The Grand Prize winners should be posted later today on Carrie Ann Ryan’s Blog Hop Page here. As always, Carrie Ann did a great job organizing for all of us. I hope everyone had fun. I love a good hop and making new friends!

If you happen to be a new subscriber to my blog (thanks to everyone who signed up, liked my page on Facebook and gave WEATHERING ROCK a ‘like’ on Amazon…those made me a happy camper ), every Monday I share information about a creature or subject from myth. Today, I’m visiting one of my all-time favorites, the unicorn.

Poets, minstrels, writers and artists have all immortalized these majestic beasts. I’ve loved them since I was a little girl, enchanted by their gracefulness, noble spirit, and ties to heraldry. So what is it about the unicorn that causes so many to fall in love with them? Perhaps, their unique combination of purity and power.

Although gentle by nature, unicorns were not to be trifled with and would react fiercely when a situation demanded. In medieval times they were aggressively hunted due to the magical properties of their horn. This included the ability to purify water or bring healing with a single touch. Given the value of a unicorn horn which was often crushed and ground into medicines, it’s no wonder they shied from humans. With one exception:

Unicorns were intrinsically drawn to the purity of virgins. According to legend, if a virgin girl sat beneath a tree, a unicorn would lie down beside her and place its head in her lap, attracted by her virtue. But it isn’t only innocence and chastity that are linked to the unicorn. Throughout time, it has been associated with the season of spring, the pure white light of the moon, honesty, and even religion.

Look for the unicorn in the Bible and you’ll find several mentions, especially in older translations. In some versions when God gives Adam the task of naming all that he sees, the unicorn is the first animal he names, forever setting it above all others. It appears several times throughout the Old Testament making many think that the unicorn, like other animals, simply passed into extinction. Still others believe it took to the water and evolved into the narwhal, a single-horned artic-water whale known as ‘the unicorn of the sea.’

According to the lyrics of The Unicorn Song by the Irish Rovers, the unicorn perished through its own folly. When Noah led the animals onto his ark, two by two, the unicorns were too busy frolicking in the rain to follow. Left behind because of their foolishness, the floodwaters swept them away.

Whatever became of this noble animal, its legend continues today. Perhaps the most poetic representation of all, the constellation Monoceros which shares the night sky with Orion the Hunter, is more commonly called ‘the unicorn.’ How befitting that this beautiful mythical creature has been given a place among the stars.

Do you have any specific memories of unicorns in books, movies, songs or art? Please share!