Scary tales. Stories full of horror and horror

Dedicated to Dot, with gratitude

Introduction

Don't scare the children

At the very beginning of the 19th century, German linguists brothers Jacob (1785–1863) and Wilhelm (1786–1859) began collecting Grimm throughout Europe [Or rather, across the fragmented German principalities that were still awaiting their unification into a united Germany. Here and further approx. translator] folk tales, seeking not only to find in them a reflection of the cultural identity of Germany, but also to preserve these stories themselves, passed down from generation to generation in oral tradition for centuries.

This led to many different versions of the same tales in different regions (especially in France), and the Brothers Grimm not only collected them into a coherent manuscript for the first time by listening to the stories as told by friends, family members and other storytellers and writing them down, but and preserved the ancient religious beliefs depicted in these stories.

It is no exaggeration to call Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm the creators of one of the first anthologies of horror literature. This is because, despite subsequent editing and reworking by various authors (including Wilhelm himself), many of the original stories contain scenes of extreme violence and implied sexuality, which made them, in the eyes of early reviewers, wholly unsuitable for very young readers (who, however, initially they were not, in fact, their target audience).

Spiritual and religious motifs were added to later versions of the tales to make them more inspiring for middle-class readers, while the themes of violence, sexuality and anti-Semitism were significantly toned down at the same time. The Brothers Grimm even added intros in which advised parents make sure that their offspring will only have access to those fairy tales that are age appropriate.

In the context of the culture of the time, education was largely based on fear, and often such tales served as a kind of “warning” so that children should not behave badly, otherwise something terrible would happen to them (thrown into the fire or eaten alive).

Between 1812 and 1862, Kinder- und Hausmärchen (Children's and Family Tales, or Grimm's Fairy Tales, as they were later called) was printed seventeen times and revised many times, the number of tales gradually increasing, increasing in some of the most complete editions from 86 to 200. The book was also often reprinted illegally, so that other compilers often added various folk tales.

Now, two centuries after Jacob and William first published their collection, these tales are more popular than ever. True, Hollywood (and especially the Walt Disney studio) has been quite free with the legacy of the Brothers Grimm almost since the birth of cinema, and recently we are literally inundated with their “reinterpretations”, such as the werewolf-themed “Little Red Riding Hood” (2011), “ Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013) and Jack the Giant Slayer (2013), not to mention various versions of Snow White, as well as popular television series such as Once Upon a Time ” and “Grimm” (both published since 2011).

Over the years, even the Brothers Grimm themselves have been the subject of biopics (with generous amounts of fantasy elements added), such as George Pal's The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm and Terry Gilliam's slightly darker The Brothers Grimm (2005).

And for this edition, I invited several famous writers to submit their interpretations of classic fairy tales, inspired by the Brothers Grimm or folklore stories from other cultures. Since it was conceived primarily as an anthology of horrors, I set the only mandatory condition for the authors - that they take as a model early versions of fairy tales that were not emasculated by censorship.

I'm pleased to say that all of the writers whose work is included in this volume have done a brilliant job of creating their own unique takes on classic stories while staying steadfastly true to the source material.

Their works are truly creepy and exciting stories worthy of the 21st century.

In 1884, a new translation of the brothers' tales by British novelist Margaret Hunt (mother of science fiction writer Violet Hunt) was published in England. I not only used some of these translations as the basis for modern fairy tales, but also included them in the collection, interspersed with the original material.

Not all of the stories written for this book were influenced by the Brothers Grimm, but in those cases I have tried to select analogues from among older tales that were either related thematically or served as the starting point for more modern stories written after them. And, since this is, after all, a horror anthology, I took the liberty of adding a couple of little-known “horror stories” to the book, which were originally part of the German brothers’ collection.

Finally, we reiterate the warning Jacob and Wilhelm gave to their readers two hundred years ago: although the stories included in this edition are based on folk tales and myths, they may not be entirely suitable for young readers.

Unless, of course, you want to fill their tiny little minds with terror!

Stephen Jones

London, England

year 2013

Naughty child

Once upon a time there was a headstrong girl who did not obey her mother. God was angry with the girl for her waywardness and sent her an illness so bad that none of the doctors could cure her and she soon died.

The girl was lowered into the grave and covered with earth, when suddenly a child’s hand poked out from under the ground and waved. The grave was filled with fresh earth again and again, but it was all in vain, each time the hand stuck out.

The mother had to come to the girl’s grave and hit her hand with a rod. As soon as she did this, the hand moved underground, and the naughty child finally found peace underground.

Ramsey Campbell

Guess my name

Doreen woke up suddenly and tried to understand what had woken her up. A dog barked at the far end of the tennis court, another echoed from the golf club, and then Doreen heard sounds from Anna's former room. There, Benjamin was stirring in his crib - the baby monitor was simultaneously distorting and amplifying the sound. Doreen was about to quietly look into his room, but the baby fell silent, and she again dropped her head on the pillow. Before closing her eyes, she glanced at the bedside clock - it showed midnight. The woman was completely dozing off when a quiet voice reached her. "You're mine now, Benjamin," he said.

It seemed as if the night had fallen upon her with its suffocating weight and crushed her, and yet Doreen managed to pry her unruly lips apart.

This will never happen. Get out, Denny, or I'll call the police.

I'm not the boy's father. His mother got what she wanted, now it's my turn.

It must have been a dream - in the empty house there was no one to engage in conversation with Doreen - but she was terrified.

And what did Anna want?

So that her son would be with her until he is one year old.

Half of this time the child's father tortured and abused her. Maybe that's what she wanted too?

She wished - I fulfilled it. She knew what the price was.

Doreen's grief brought tears to her eyes.

She paid in full for her mistake.

Doreen herself did not understand what she was trying to do - understand him or wake up.

What's your other time?

Your year with Benjamin is almost over, so say goodbye to him while you still can, Doreen.

What is your name, since you already know my name?

Nobody knows mine. - Doreen heard a muffled chuckle, although perhaps someone simply scratched the plastic microphone. “See you on his birthday,” said the voice. - I'll leave you a sign.

The dogs began to bark again, and others joined them. Their barking was real, and Doreen felt it, there were no other sounds in the night - realizing this, she fell asleep.

Late in the morning, lying in bed, Doreen recalled her dream. Perhaps she is really afraid that Benjamin's father will show up to them, having gotten wind that her husband is away at a meeting of directors? But the court ruled that Denny should stay away from the child, and if anything happened, the police could be called. Or maybe she’s so worried because exactly a year ago, on his first birthday, Benjamin lost his mother. That is why Doreen wanted to try to give her grandson a real holiday this time, and she was considering how to do this when she heard that the boy was fussing.

In the mornings, the baby always muttered sleepily some kind of slur, as if his tongue needed time to wake up. “Veil of winds, fat, chain,” she almost believed that she could discern in his babble something similar, or even something like this: “The boar is roasted in the greenhouse” - and where does he get these words? About thirty years ago she was delighted, listening to Anna’s infant monologues, but now she tried not to remember it. Meanwhile, Benjamin started talking to Nose and Grumpy, the teddy bears who slept in his crib. As he began to bang on the wooden slats, either imitating a drummer or demanding freedom, Doreen entered the nursery.

Benjamin stood holding the back of the crib, facing the door, and she again involuntarily remembered Anna. His tiny face was almost a copy of his mother's - blond hair, high forehead, small upturned nose, plump lips, stubborn chin. Only Anna’s eyebrows were constantly frowning lately, and she dyed her hair in a variety of colors, but none of them helped bring her husband into a peaceful disposition - however, there was little that could calm him down. Last year, Anna's eyes became dull and lifeless, like stones, and her smile - Doreen saw her very rarely - looked more like a plea for help, even after she decided to break up with Denny. At least Anna practically brought the case to trial, but perhaps this made her even more afraid? Doreen assumed that was what happened.

Ready for adventure? - she turned to Benjamin.

Vengeance [Pun: adventures - adventures, avengers - avenger.].

Oh you little parrot! - Doreen smiled and suddenly shuddered. The baby monitor microphone she always placed on top of the blue dresser was lying on the floor. It was clear that Benjamin would not have been able to reach the wire, and she felt cold as she realized that she had not heard the sound of the fall. The thought flashed that this was her mistake: she herself had missed something - apparently she was getting old.

Don’t do that again, Benjamin,” she said, putting the microphone back in place.

The boy stuck out his lower lip stubbornly.

I didn't, bah.

Come on, don't be naughty. If not you, then who?

What kind of uncle?

Comes to me.

Who's coming to see you, Benjamin? This is not yours... - she blurted out in excitement and reluctantly finished, - not your father? Isn't this dad?

“Not dad,” the kid said and laughed.

Doreen suspected that he might simply be repeating her words.

And who then, Benjamin?

The child paused with a puzzled look, then said:

That is, you didn't see him. Do you know why? He's not real. It's just a dream.

Shocked.

Sometimes it seems to me that you are teasing me... - said Doreen, although she herself did not believe it.

Of course, Benjamin probably touched the microphone while waking up. Doreen took the baby in her arms, and he, warm from sleep, hugged her neck. He couldn't wait to get on the floor and run through the rooms. Doreen caught up with him in the kitchen and helped him take off his night suit. Having removed him from the potty and praised him for having done everything, he dressed him, trying to do everything so that the baby seemed to have dressed himself practically. Then she sat her grandson in a high chair, prepared breakfast, and then watched as he handled the cereal without almost spilling the milk or getting dirty. Nevertheless, she carefully wiped his cheeks - Benjamin tried his best to dodge - and asked:

What should you and I do this morning?

Watch trains.

Benjamin chatted incessantly as they walked half a mile along a wide suburban road. “They jump for the ball,” he said near the tennis courts, and “What a little car,” near the golf course. “Let’s go read,” he said, walking past the deserted schoolyard. Doreen knew: her grandson remembered how she explained that he would also go to school. “Thieves' Jugs,” Benjamin announced at the window of the antique salon, and she realized: now he was thinking about the fairy tale about Ali Baba, which she read to him. He called the visitors to the hair salon “astronaut aunts” because of the shape of the hair dryers under which they sat, and at the window of the flower shop he said: “Where the flowers go,” and Doreen, hearing this, tried to drive away thoughts of the funeral. When we got to the railway, she squeezed his trusting warm hand tighter. “Red ding,” Benjamin said. In fact, when the red signal lights came on, a sharp bell rang. When the barriers came down on both sides of the crossing, they had to stop, and Benjamin impatiently moved his fingers clenched in Doreen's fist. As the train left the station, Doreen became curious and asked, “What is it like?”

For many brands.

Benjamin still hasn't forgotten how they put stamps on envelopes for last Christmas - the strip of carriage windows reminded him of them. Anna, at his age, loved to lick Christmas stamps before sticking them on them. Now they were simply separated from the sticky base, and the next generation, Doreen thought, probably wouldn’t even know this if the computer sent out congratulations. Six trains passed them and the barrier was lowered three times before Benjamin agreed to go home.

After putting him to bed, Doreen prepared lunch and took care of dinner. After lunch, they walked, past the Conservative Club and the Masonic Hall, to the children's group "Strong Kids".

Oh, our talker has arrived! - Di Maitland exclaimed from a distance when Benjamin rushed towards his girlfriend Daisy, a talker like himself. Doreen usually didn't trust her grandson to strangers - she even retired early to take care of her grandson - but this time she asked Jonquil, Daisy's mother, if she would agree to pick up Benjamin after the group tomorrow while she baked her grandson's birthday cake .

“With joy—more willingly than any other child,” answered Jonquil, and for some reason Doreen remembered her midnight dream.

At home, she was surprised to see what a mess Benjamin had made - toys were scattered all over the floor. But in the morning he even helped her clean up - and when did he manage to scatter everything again? Doreen reminded herself that before she knew it, the boy would be older, and she was sad in advance that she would lose all this mess, and after eating she hesitated, taking her time to wipe his stained cheeks. She finally calmed down when Hubert called.

Where is the head of the family? - he asked.

At the moment - under the supervision of a woman.

That’s how it is... - Her tone seemed to puzzle Hubert. - Is everything all right at home?

It's just weird that you're not around.

I'll be back for the big day, you know. Is everything else okay with you?

Yes, in general everything is as usual. - Doreen felt: this is exactly what her husband hopes to hear, these are exactly the words he expects from her. - And how are you? - she asked.

Not particularly. Imagine, I have three more days to listen to how we can improve the image of banks in the eyes of the public. I'd rather improve their performance if possible, for that matter. - Hubert spoke too loudly, risking being heard by his colleagues, whose voices were heard nearby. - But... stop grumbling. Will you allow me to talk to the young man at bedtime?

“He hasn’t gone to bed yet,” Doreen answered, switching to speakerphone. “Do you hear who it is, Benjamin?”

Uncle. - But when Hubert greeted Benjamin, the boy’s voice sounded much happier: “Grandpa!”

How are the young shift doing? Just three more nights and we'll see each other.

Look, nights!

Well, yes, three nights. Are you listening to grandma? Keep an eye on her and make sure nothing bad happens to her while I'm in a meeting.

For a moment Doreen thought the baby was alarmed.

Nothing bad.

“Nothing will happen,” Doreen assured him. - Now wish grandpa good night. He is tired and wants to rest.

“Good night, grandfather,” Benjamin said with such enthusiasm that his grandmother and grandfather laughed together.

Before bathing, her grandson helped Doreen put away her toys.

“It’s hot,” he said seriously as Doreen tested the water, and then: “Not anymore.”

Doreen could hardly call herself religious - she paid even less attention to this aspect than her parents, which is why, apparently, her prayers for Anna, seemingly so earnest, did not achieve their goal - and yet every time she saw Benjamin, sitting in the bathtub, the font and baptism involuntarily came to mind. Doreen dried her grandson, kissed her and vowed to herself to protect him as long as she lived - even if it sounded somewhat pompous.

Doreen helped the baby into his night suit, then put him in his crib. Sitting next to her, she leafed through the pages of Anna's old book, and her gaze fell on the title of one of the fairy tales. The one Anna loved most. It is not surprising that Doreen dreamed something similar, but now she did not want to read this particular story to Benjamin.

Many years ago,” she began instead, “there lived a poor woodcutter with his wife and two children; The boy's name was Hansel, and the girl's name was Gretel...

She missed the stove and the terrible danger that threatened the children. The children were saved, and Benjamin fell asleep peacefully. Doreen turned off the lights and took the baby monitor downstairs and kept it in front of her on the kitchen table while she ate dinner. The day with Benjamin had tired her out, as usual, but she wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Doreen went to bed early.

She woke up suddenly, as if with a jolt, and immediately noticed the zeros on the dial - the bedside clock showed midnight. All that was needed, she thought, was for it to become a habit - to wake up every night at the same time - and then a voice was heard. It sounded so muffled, as if it was coming from inside her head.

Is it you again? - she whispered, or thought. -What do you want this time?

What I always get.

You didn't get it in the fairy tale, right? Because they guessed your name.

Are you talking about this old stuff? Don't believe everything you read.

Well, isn't your name Rumplestiltskin?

It's just a fairy tale. - Having uttered a strangled laugh, similar to the rattling of many small teeth, the voice continued: - Something is true there. I know when I'm needed.

Then you must understand when you are not needed at all.

Your daughter needed it when she needed a witness.

Don't you dare talk about her. - Doreen even managed to squeeze out a laugh. - Why am I even talking to you? You're just a dream.

This is a scary fairy tale of our own composition - with an unexpected ending. It starts off really scary. You read it and imagine an incredible picture. Something terrible is flying... Brrr! How did the events in the fairy tale develop? How did it end? A moment of patience... Now we will read a fairy tale.

Fairy tale "Little Hero"

In one Terrible Kingdom, a Terrible State, there lived a terrible bucket. It flew wherever it wanted, and at such a speed that it was truly scary.

This bucket gave no rest to anyone. It kept the entire Dark Forest in fear. Still would! Who wants a bucket to hit you on the head?!

They said that the bucket was either black or brown, and that it was controlled by either Dashing One-Eyed or Koschey the Immortal. They supposedly intimidate everyone in this way.

The forest dwellers were very afraid. They began to walk for food with their heads bowed. We tried to walk quietly, barely audible.

For the sake of truth, it must be said that no one saw the flying bucket with their own eyes. But fear has big eyes. Today no one saw it - but tomorrow it will arrive!

And then one day a nightingale appeared in the Dark Forest. He immediately noticed that the forest seemed to be extinct. Since he knew nothing about the flying bucket, he was not afraid of anything. He calmly sang songs and flew wherever he wanted. And suddenly he saw a bucket. This little paper ice cream bucket. The wind picked it up from the ground, it tumbled and flew with great speed. But the nightingale was not afraid of him. Here's another! He will be afraid of some little bucket!

And on the fly he came up with a funny, funny song that talks about a funny bucket driven by the wind.

The forest dwellers, hearing the song of the nightingale, left their secluded places. They suddenly felt happy. They were scared of some cardboard bucket! To whomever I tell, they will laugh.

And since then the savior of the nightingale has been called “winner”. Winner of what? Flying buckets!

Questions and tasks for a scary fairy tale

What fairy tales do we call “scary”?

What were the inhabitants of the Dark Forest afraid of?

Describe the bucket that scared everyone.

Who controlled the scary bucket?

Why was the nightingale not afraid of the flying bucket?

How did the forest inhabitants know that the bucket is not scary?

What proverb is mentioned in the fairy tale?

What proverbs about fear do you know?

– Kat, tell me a story. - Said the little five-year-old brother, crawling under the blanket.
Kat turned around and rolled her eyes and replied:
- I don’t have time, tell yourself. Well, there... Think of it, in general.

- But, Katie! – The brother was already sulking and about to cry, the sister realized that if she didn’t stop him urgently, she might get screwed. The girl slammed the door and sat down at her brother’s feet.
- Okay, William! Give me your book here! – Will, having triumphed over his sister’s laziness, cheerfully took out a small book from under the pillow and gave it to Kat.
“So, what do we have here...” the sister said thoughtfully, leafing through the book.
- Well! Read! - The brother said, getting ready to listen.
- Hmm-hmm. Once upon a time there lived a king and a queen... - Yawns, - they had a daughter and named her... - Kat frowned and began flipping through the pages. Then she slammed the book shut, threw it back a decent distance, looked at her brother’s surprised face and declared solemnly. – You’ve already read this fairy tale! Mom has already read it to you four times. Not enough?
“I just like her...” the boy answered, frowning.
“You’re five, but you act like you’re two!” How can you listen to the same thing? At your age, it wasn’t even interesting for me to watch the same cartoons!
- So what?! You're actually sixteen, but you act like you're eight! No, six! – The girl slapped herself in the face.
- What a stupid child...
- She’s like that herself!
- So, okay, let me tell you my story... It’s more interesting. – The sister grinned.
“Well, yes,” the brother answered, crossing his arms over his chest, “after your stories, I’m scared to sleep later!” Especially after the last one...
- Aaah, are you talking about Jack the Killer?! – The girl screamed, making an angry face at the last words.
Her brother threw a pillow at her.
- Don't remind me about him!
- And what? - she grinned, - are you still afraid to fall asleep at night? Now this terrible face will appear and...
- No! Leave me alone, otherwise I'll tell my mom everything! - The boy said, covering himself with a blanket.
- What are you talking about? Do you know that Jack also loves sneaks and naughty children... - After a short pause, Katie added. - Kill!
- Is it true? – asked the brother, looking out from under the blanket.
- Yeah, didn’t you know?! “She asked loudly, again making a scary face.
- No…
– All children, if they are sarcastic and greedy, Jack the Killer kills! First, he waits until they turn off the light and close their eyes. Then he grabs them and climbs out through the window. So you won’t even have time to look back! And then the worst thing begins...
- What?! – Asked the brother, who was completely out from under the blanket, he moved closer to his sister.
She looked at him angrily, made a terrible smile and for no apparent reason shouted:
– Ripping their hearts out! “Then the boy grabs his hand.
- Aaaaah!!! – A frightened Will screamed and crawled under the blanket.
Then came the sister's wild laughter.

While my sister was rolling on the floor laughing, my brother was trembling with fear under the blanket. He closed his eyes and plugged his ears so as not to hear anything and not imagine the picture that his sister had just told him. The laughter died down. The light turned off. And something crawled under the boy’s blanket. But he, shrouded in fear, could not scream or even move. He just trembled and closed his eyes even tighter. Suddenly the window slowly opened... With a creak... The boy wanted to jump up and run out of the room, but he was very scared. At first, he thought a little that it was his sister who was mocking him like that, but when he heard a whisper in his ear, so incomprehensible and unintelligible, the doubts that it was Kat disappeared. The boy was sweating with fear... He wanted to scream. Relaxing a little, he began to understand the whisper in his ear, it was like: “Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping?” But Will didn't answer. Tears slowly flowed down my cheeks, my heart felt like it was about to break from fear. It definitely wasn't my sister. It was an ominous, scary whisper, in a male voice: “Are you sleeping? ARE YOU SLEEPING?!” The whispering began to get even louder... Then the blanket began to slowly come off the boy's head... “This is the end...” - he thought. The only thing left to do is scream, scream so loud that everyone can hear. Someone grabbed his hand.

- Aaaaah! HELP!!! - The boy's voice...
- Aaaaah! - Someone else's voice.
The light turns on. Frightened parents run into the room. Frightened children are sitting on the bed.
Kat is holding the boy's hand, Will's nose and eyes are swollen because he was crying.
– What happened here?! – asked the mother, flying into the room.
– So it’s YOU?! – The child looked angrily at the girl. - Did you scare me?! Did you turn off the light?! Did you grab my hand?! Did you open the window?! Did you whisper?! YOU?!
- I thought it was you! At first! I swear it’s not me,” the girl looked at the stern face of her mother and father. - Honestly! I'll swear by whatever you want! I was scared to death myself, so scared that I was even afraid to say anything! “The boy hugged his mother tightly and cried.
- What happened?! Did you scare him again?! A?! – The mother shouted at her daughter. The father leaned his elbows on the door.
- No... More precisely, yes... But not like that. That’s how it was... – The girl caught her breath a little and continued. – I told him a little scary story. He got scared and crawled under the blanket. I laughed. Then she stopped and turned off the light. She crawled under the blanket with him. I was about to scare him again when suddenly the window opened... I thought that somehow he had already climbed out and opened the window. I decided to wait and stayed under the blanket. Then something began to whisper over my ear... At first it was unintelligible and quiet. I again thought it was my brother, but the voice was different when the whisper became clear and loud. It was: "Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping?" – I was scared. Then the whispers became louder. And then the blanket began to fall back on its own, I couldn’t stand it and grabbed someone’s hand. Someone screamed and I screamed. Then the light turned on and it turned out that it was my brother. Here. And so it was.
- Yes... She's telling the truth. – William confirmed.
- But if it wasn’t you and it wasn’t me... Then who opened the window, whispered and... Threw back the blanket?! – my sister asked in fear.
“Maybe...” Will looked at the window and pointed his index finger at it in fear.
Everyone looked there and shuddered... There was clearly an inscription scrawled on it with a knife: “Go to sleep!”

Swedish fairy tale about an orphan

The town of Dalland was engulfed in a terrible epidemic. The townspeople were panicked, and no one knew how to defeat this mysterious disease. Panic gradually set in, and many decided to flee the city. And then an old man from Finland came to Dalland, who knew how to defeat this scourge.

It turns out that in order to save the inhabitants, it is necessary to sacrifice someone, and not just kill them, but bury them alive in the ground. First, the town residents buried a live rooster, but the disease did not subside, then it was the goat’s turn, but this did not give the desired effect. Now it was decided to sacrifice a person, but who?

The choice of the town residents fell on a hungry orphan boy (who will regret him). Cunning adults lured the child with bread, and the naive boy fell into a prepared grave.

The townspeople began to fill in the pit, despite the fact that the orphan was crying and begging not to do this. Subsequently, some people claimed that they heard the boy’s screams from underground even after his death. The innocent child accused people of cruelty and complained about his unfortunate fate.

The Swedish Tale of the Ghosts of Christmas

Usually before Christmas all the evil spirits on earth become powerless for some time, but apparently this does not apply to Sweden.

One woman decided to go to the midnight Christmas service at church. She took bread baked in the shape of a cross with her on the road to satisfy her hunger. On the way she met two witches. The witches wanted to kill her, but they were scared away by the cross that was in the woman’s pocket.

The unfortunate parishioner still made it to the church, but when she sat down on a bench, she heard the voice of her godfather. He told her that she might die, but he would try to save her.

Suddenly the woman noticed that all the people in the church had no heads. The poor woman rushed to the exit in horror, and the ghosts rushed after her and managed to tear the scarf from her head.

When the unfortunate woman returned to the church in the morning, she saw that her scarf was torn into small pieces, which were scattered among the graves in the nearby cemetery.

Swedish fairy tale about the cunning Kitta Grau

Kitta Grau was such an evil woman that she even personally knew the devil himself. So one day Kitta argued with the Prince of Darkness himself that she would be able to cause more harm to people than he could.

The evil woman said that she would be able to quarrel between the newlyweds, whom the devil himself had previously been unable to separate. The challenge was accepted, and Kitta was promised unusually beautiful shoes as a reward.

Kpitta Grau persuaded a young woman to shave her husband while he was sleeping in order to forever banish anger from her heart and become absolutely happy.

Then the treacherous woman went to her young husband and told him that his beloved was going to kill him in his sleep. And so the man pretends to be asleep, and the naive wife comes up to him with a razor. And such a scandal begins that the recently happy newlyweds almost killed each other.

The marriage was destroyed, and Kitta Grau received new shoes.

A Norwegian tale that explains why the sea is salty

One poor man came to his brother asking him to give his family some food. A rich relative gave the poor man a piece of good ham, but said that next time he should turn to the devil for help. The poor man heeded his brother's advice and found the devil's hut, where he successfully exchanged a piece of ham for a magic mill that could grind whatever his heart desired.

Things started to improve in the poor man's family, now he became richer than his successful brother and could get any thing he wanted. The rich brother began to ask his former poor relative about the secret of his sudden prosperity, he innocently told him about the magic mill received from the Devil.

The envious brother offered to buy the mill for any money, and the poor man agreed, but did not tell the greedy relative how to stop the mill.

Blinded by greed, the rich man ordered the mill to make porridge and herring and made so much of it that he flooded the entire city. Then he ran to his brother again and asked to take the devil’s mill back, for which the resourceful poor man demanded an even larger sum of money from his relative. The deal was completed.

Time passed, and one rich visiting merchant, who was selling very expensive, at that time, salt, found out about the amazing mill and decided to get it for himself at any cost. After long negotiations, the merchant purchased the mill for a huge sum and immediately set off on his journey.

True, the overseas merchant also did not know how to stop this diabolical mechanism. He ordered the mill to make salt. At this time, the ship sank, the greedy merchant himself died, and he still works, making the water in the sea salty.

Danish tale of the pastor's wife

One woman married a pastor, but there was a deep fear in her soul: she did not want to have children. She decided to seek advice from a local witch, who told her seven children. The witch said that a woman needs to take seven stones and throw them away - then she will not have children.

The woman performed the ritual and her life together with the pastor went smoothly. One evening the pastor discovered that his wife was not casting a shadow. He realized that his wife had committed some terrible sin, but she categorically refused to explain anything to him. Then the angry pastor kicked the woman out of the house and forbade all the villagers to help her. He cursed her and said that he would forgive her only when a red rose grew on the stone table in his kitchen.

The unfortunate woman wandered for a long time along different roads until she met another priest who volunteered to help her in her grief. He ordered her to spend the night in church with the book he would give her. It was necessary not to give the book to anyone until the morning, although many would ask for it.

All night the souls of her unborn children circled over the poor woman, and the next morning the priest told her that she was forgiven, but must leave this world today.

The woman went to her native village to see her husband before his death, but he was not at home. One villager took pity on her and sheltered her. On the same day, the poor woman died, and a red rose bloomed on the stone table in the pastor's house. The pastor rushed to search for his wife and found her dead in the house of his fellow villager, went mad with grief and died.

Finnish fairy tale about a cunning fox and a wolf

The wolf and she-wolf had three children. However, the she-wolf soon died. The inconsolable wolf needed to find a nanny for his cubs. He searched the entire forest in search of a suitable candidate. The wolf cubs loved lullabies very much, but none of the forest inhabitants could sing them so that the wolf liked his lullabies. In the end, the wolf met a fox who could sing simply amazingly. He asked her to look after the wolf cubs while he hunted.

On the first day, the wolf brought fresh food from the hunt. He wanted to see his children, but the fox said that they were already sleeping. The wolf went hunting again, and the fox itself ate the horse meat that was left for the wolf cubs. The fox did not want to look after the cubs, and she simply ate one.

As time went. The wolf came home from the hunt tired, and the fox gradually ate all his children. One day the wolf firmly declared that he wanted to finally see his offspring, and then the fox realized that he was in trouble and began to run away. The wolf chased after her, but did not manage to catch her. It seemed that he managed to grab her paw, but the fox deceived him again, passing off the paw as a tree root. The fox disappeared, and the wolf was left completely alone and in despair.

It is impossible to imagine the life of a child in any country and any era without fairy tales. A fairy tale is one of the main tools for nurturing morality and humanity in a child, the formation of such concepts as good and evil, truth and lies, justice and treachery.

Scary fairy tales for children are part of a child's life. Without them, this life would be much more boring. Listening to a horror story at night, the child associates himself with its positive heroes - Ivan Tsarevich or Vasilisa the Wise, Little Thumb or Little Red Riding Hood. Mentally defeating Baba Yaga or Koshchei the Immortal, an evil wolf or a cannibal together with them, the child learns courage, initiative in the fight against evil, and empathy.


The fears of some parents that their child is too sensitive to introduce him to fairy tales with such scary characters as witches and goblin are unfounded. Reading fairy tales, especially folk tales, is the generalized pedagogical experience of many generations of our ancestors. Watching your child, you yourself will be able to notice that even if, when Barmaley appears on the pages of the fairy tale, the child hides his head under the blanket, and when he learns that the Fox ate Kolobok, she sheds tears, he will still ask you to read this terrible story again.
During the perception of such fairy tales, the emotional component of the child’s personality develops and hardens. He learns to overcome his fear, to believe that in the end the story will end well.

Favorite children's monsters

It should be noted that in children's folk tales the presence and development of scary characters is strictly dosed. The same Baba Yaga does not always cause horror. Quite often she looks funny, and the smart and kind main character can easily deceive her, for example, as in the fairy tale “Geese and Swans”. Sometimes she even helps the main character, which evokes sympathy among little listeners. Often an animal that is terrible in real life, for example, a wolf, serves good in a fairy tale (“Ivan Tsarevich and the Gray Wolf”). By this, folk storytellers wanted to show that in everyone, even those who at first glance evoke only negative emotions, it is possible to awaken a good beginning or, in extreme cases, to outwit it. Children really love scary fairy tales about various funny monsters - for example, everyone's favorite Shrek or fairy-tale characters from the school of monsters - Monster High.


Every child needs very scary fairy tales no less than everyone else. This can be said by the children themselves, who perhaps love this category of fairy tales the most. After all, the more terrible the danger, the more joyful the feeling of victory, the brighter the experience, the stronger the triumph of good.