The Moura is a supernatural being from Galician folklore. She is an extremely beautiful and seductive young maiden. She lives under an imposed spell that makes her search for somebody who could break it. They are usually seen combing their long red hair, and they’ve got white porcelain skin and flushed cheeks. They often show up washing, weaving or spinning sitting on a large stone or next to a fountain. They also have the habit to expose their golden magical objects so that they shine in the sun. They may offer this gold as a reward to those who can break their spell. To break the spell of the Moura she may ask for a kiss, a cake, some milk, the pronunciation of a certain word, or accomplishment of some chore like not looking at something hidden. To fail means not to free the Moura and double the spell, lose the treasure, lose the beloved Moura or even lose their life.

They are beings of formidable strength and  they are believed to be the builders of the ancient Galician prehistoric monuments. They can carry huge stones on their heads while they are spinning or breastfeeding a child. They are underworld creatures, spending part of their time in the underworld and the rest above ground. They live under some prehistoric monuments such as: castros, megalithsdolmens or petroglyphs. They often show up next to a fountain, a well, a waterfall or a stream of water.

They are shapeshifters, they possess the ability to transform their physical form or shape. They can transform into a snake, but they also have three main alter egos: a young maiden, a lady and an old woman. When she is a snake (Moura-cobra) she may have wings and can appear as half woman and half animal and likes to be offered milk. When she appears with the shape of an old woman, the legend says that she comes out of the rainbow (in Galician is called “Arco da Vella”, literally “old woman's bow”) and she shakes the frost in the winter mornings because she is the creator of the elements that govern the forces of nature. The young Moura with her treasures is believed to appear on Saint John’s Day, the day that marks the summer solstice. This Moura is called “Dona” and she appears next to a fountain.

They are thought to be of Indo-European Celtic origin, related to other female divinities of the water: fairies, fainen, fate, korrigans, moirai, etc. Almost every single Galician town has a tale of a Moura; this knowledge from folk memory was a very important mean to locate many archaeological monuments and sites.

 The Hätscherklooßen

Every year, when it comes to giant leaps on the Christmas, then equip the Königsberg children for their "Hätscherklooßenabend". In addition, many boys and girls often dress very adventurous with a long coat, a harem pants, put on a hat with a feather and a beard often belongs to this mask. So they go from house to house to warn the citizens with poems and spells against the dangers of a fire.

Only very few people know about the strange nature of the custom. Behind the name "Hätscherklooß" is the name of the famous commander Tilly or, as he was called by his full name, Johann Tserclaes, Count of Tilly. As a commemorative plaque on a house on the Salzmarkt said, the most famous and successful commander of the Catholic League in the Thirty Years' War, on March 6, 1632 (according to today's Gregorian calendar, it was March 16), with 8000 men in the Protestant town of Königsberg. On this day broke out a major fire - one of the hardest fateful hours of this city. It is still popularly said today that Tilly had given the soldier "order" to keep the St. Mary's Church from the fire at all costs; which also succeeded. The carelessness of a stable guard is said to have broken the fire that consumed two-thirds of the city.

A Hätscherklooß  in the vernacular, the horror of the conflagration combined with the name of the commander Tserclaeus. However, the pronunciation presented difficulties for the citizens, so he was - passed from mouth to mouth - more and more mutilated. Hand in hand, the original sense was lost. If a mother wished to tame her unruly child over the course of decades and centuries, she would fall into the error of making the child compliant by the threat of the name Tserclaeus: "Wait, I'll get the Tscherkläß!" That's how the former became "Tscherkläß" the "Hätscherklooß". No wonder the kids once wanted to play even the most dreaded to scare others. Thus, the "Hätscherklooßabend" was born, found affection and became a custom with a historical background.

And then, even today, on the 30th of November, every year, the boys of the city roam the streets and alleyways of Königsberg admonishing the citizens of the dangers of fire. Of course, the citizens thank you with sweets or in cash for these warnings.

 

One of the recited poems, written by the poet Karl Eisentraut, is as follows:

I am the Tilly and Hätscherklooß

and you will ask me, what is that?

That's why I came to your door

and pick up the old story:

 

In the middle of the Märzen, at the spring time,

Much heartbreak came over the city.

I quartered at the Salzmarkt,

until I woke up a red glow.

 

A groom, springing to the middle night,

had kindled the fire with candles.

It burned the flames two-thirds of the city,

until nobody had a roof over their heads anymore '.

 

Who scares us year in, year out,

should be scared yourself today.

That's the point of the loafers,

So all hell breaks loose.

His image is of a small sailor in yellowwith a tobacco pipe and woolen sailor‘s cap, often wearing a caulking hammer. This likeness is carved and attached to the mast as a symbol of good luck.

Despite the positive attributes, there is one Omen associated with his presence: no member of a ship blessed by his presence shall ever set eyes on him. He only ever becomes visible to the crew of a doomed ship.

More recently, the Klabautermann is sometimes described as having more sinister attributes, and blamed for things that go wrong on the ship. This incarnation of the Klabautermann is more demon- or goblin-like, prone to play pranks and, eventually, doom the ship and her crew. This deterioration of image probably stems from sailors, upon returning home, telling stories of their adventures at sea. Since life at sea can be rather dull, all creatures - real, mythical, and in between - eventually became the centre of rather ghastly stories.

The little house gnomes are said to have done all the work of the citizens of Cologne during the night, so that the inhabitants of Cologne could be very lazy during the day. According to the legend, this went on until a tailor's wife got so curious to see the gnomes that she scattered peas onto the floor of the workshop to make the gnomes slip and fall. The gnomes, being infuriated, disappeared and never returned. From that time on, the citizens of Cologne had to do all their work by themselves.

This legend was first written down by the Cologne teacher Ernst Weyden (1805–1869) in 1826. It was translated into English by Thomas Keightley and published 1828 in his book "The Fairy Mythology".

 

According to ancient folk belief, the demons rage between years. As “Rauhwuggerl, Hobangoass, Drud, bluadiga Dammerl”, they not only raged in the stories, but also danced as real frightening figures, with hand-carved masks, wildly around fire and through streets.
 Many ghost towns can be found in the Bavarian Forest, a long-time inhospitable area, rough, repellent, sparse. The dark forests and the misty humpback land proved to be biotopes for the spooky and the supernatural.
 When I was a child and did not want to fall asleep, my mother threatened me with the “Rauhwuggerl”: If I do not rest, he will fetch me!