Subscribe
Share
Share
Embed
Wyrd & Wundor is a folklore podcast where we share listener stories of strange encounters from fairies, ghosts, time slips, dreams, astral travel, aliens, cryptids, demons, or whatever you deem weird and out of the ordinary. We also have episodes that speak on strange phenomena and folklore. Airs every other Tuesday. If you miss not having weekly episodes, become a member on patreon! Tiers start at just $5!
Hello, and welcome to my passion project Wyrd and Wundor, where you will hear true stories of strange encounters and unravel the folklore of the good folk and other bizarre creatures. When I first had the idea for this podcast, I was solely focused on fairies or the good folk as they call them in Ireland. It was only when I started researching that I realized we really have no idea what the fae really are. In some cultures, they are the dead. In others, they are angels, demons, or something in between.
Rachel:Others depict them as nature spirits, while some even claim they are cryptids or aliens. Over the years, they have been adapted to the cultures and times, which brings us to where we are today, tiny winged creatures in nature that spread mischief and pixie dust. While there are claims of the fae fitting this description before his time, Walt Disney had a huge impact on this specific type of fairy. We only need to watch one of his classic films. He was a member of the Fairy Investigation Society, a spiritualist occult group, on a quest to find fairies and gather accounts of other tales of the mysterious creatures.
Rachel:The society hosted members like Victor Purcell, Walter Starkey, Alastair Alpin McGregor, and Marjorie Johnson. It eventually disbanded and was recently reassembled by doctor Simon Young. The group no longer requires a belief in fairies, only a love of folklore. As far as weird and wonder goes, my show is going to air on a bimonthly basis, and extended episodes will be available via Patreon if you just can't get enough. And I don't think you're gonna be able to.
Rachel:I've also created a lovely fictional world in the kingdom of Norley, where I will be hosting the podcast with Woodgrin, an elegant and snarky Fae, and his even snarkier cat, Snolly. I'm truly grateful for all the wonderful people have had a hand in this podcast and given me a bit of help. And I also really hope you're gonna enjoy the show and that it provides you with a bit of joyful entertainment, whether you are sitting at your desk, driving, or sitting at home. If you would like to share your strange encounter with the podcast, you can email me at wyrdandwundor@gmail.com, and that's spelled wyrdandwundor. wyrdandwundor@gmail.com.
Rachel:Let me know if you would like to remain anonymous or if you'd like to have your name shared. Please note for the sake of the show that I will correct anything misworded or typed incorrectly. So if writing isn't your thing, no worries. Stories can be about anything bizarre that you would like. Because as I said, this is a platform for the strange and bizarre, and most of that can somewhat fall under the umbrella of the Fae.
Rachel:Even if not, I'd love to hear your story.
Rachel:Ugh, Woodgrin. This tree is perfect. It's tall. It's got the perfect shape and, wait a minute.
Rachel:It's it's still got roots.
Woodgrin:Of course, human. This tree isn't just for decoration. It's on loan from the Nuuly forest. We are merely borrowing it for the season.
Rachel:Borrowing a tree? I don't think that's a thing.
Woodgrin:Oh, no. No. The tree's quite happy to be here. It volunteered. It's like a little vacation.
Woodgrin:It gets to get all razzled and dazzled up and enjoy the cozy fire. It'll go back to the forest after Christmas as if it never left.
Rachel:Are you sure about that? We don't wanna get a strongly worded note from a dryad about over decorating their tree and giving it some sort of arboreal fatigue.
Woodgrin:I spoke to the tree myself. We're on good terms. Just, be careful with the fairy lights. They might tickle. And he's a bit more devo than any devo you've ever heard of.
Woodgrin:And that dryad, she's staying in the west wing until the tree is placed back in the forest.
Tree:Hey, watch the lights, will you? They're wrapped too tight.
Rachel:Holy moly. Sorry, so sorry. I'll I'll take them off and do them again.
Woodgrin:See? Told you. Fair warning. He has opinions about ornaments too.
Rachel:Well, I guess he has a right. He is wearing them. Anyways, did you know that today's episode is about fairy haunts on the holidays?
Woodgrin:Yes. I'm so pleased we can liven up your dull human lives.
Rachel:That's enough cheek from you and the tree. Let's get into the stories. Missus X, a cultured Irish woman now living in County Dublin, who as a recipient fulfills all the exacting requirements, which psychologists and pathologists would demand, tells me that very frequently, she has had visions of fairy beings in Ireland. And her own classification and description of these fairy beings, chiefly according to their statue, are as follows. Among the usually invisible races which I have seen in Ireland, I distinguish 5 classes.
Rachel:There are the gnomes, who are earth spirits and who seem to be a sorrowful race. I once saw some of them distinctly in the side of bin Laden. They had rather round heads and dark thick set bodies, and in stature were about 2 and a half feet. The leprechauns are different, being full of mischief, though they too are small. I followed a leprechaun from the town of Wicklow out to Carrigshee, rock of the fairies.
Rachel:A distance of half a mile or more, where he disappeared. He had a very merry face and beckoned to me with his finger. A third class of the little people, who, unlike the gnomes and leprechauns, are quite good looking, and they're very small too. The good people are tall, beautiful beings, as tall as ourselves to judge by those I saw at Rath in Ross' Point. They direct the magnetic currents of the Earth.
Rachel:The gods are really the Tuatha De Danann, and they are much taller than our race. There may be many other classes of invisible beings which I do not know. This was recorded on October 16, 1910. And, independently of the Celtic peoples, there is available very much testimony of the most reliable character from modern disciples of the medieval occultists. Example, the Rosicrucians and the Theosophists, that there exist in nature invisible spiritual beings of pygmy stature and of various forms and characters comparable in all respects to the little people of Celtic folklore.
Rachel:How all of this is parallel to the Celtic fairy faith is perfectly evident, and no comment of ours is necessary. On Boxing Day in 1965, when I was sitting in front of the fire, listening to the wireless, the sun made a glowing rainbow across the upright tiles beneath the oak mantelpiece, and on one of the tiles an elf superimposed his face. I could not see the rest of his body, but from the size of his head he must have been not less than 1 foot high. He was smiling and looking straight at me. He stayed for about a minute, and then the shaft of light moved away from the tile and he vanished.
Rachel:But my feelings of happiness remained. On another occasion, I had been admiring some glorious golden yellow chrysanthemums, which were in a vase on the table, and then I went to sit in my usual armchair facing the fire with my back to the table. Presently, to my surprise and delight, a little fairy appeared in front of me holding a replica of 1 of the chrysanthemums, which she showed me with great pride. Her hair, wings, and flowing gown were the same color as the flower and her face was glowing with joy. My grandmother lived in this really big and really old house.
Rachel:It seems anyone and everyone who slept there had some sort of paranormal experience, almost no 2 alike. One Christmas, my uncle and his partner flew in from the big city to spend Christmas with the family. It was his partner's first time with us, so we were very excited to meet him. There was a back room in the upstairs where the guests normally stayed. But, everyone was very spooked by this bedroom.
Rachel:Honestly, I never understood why. I had my own experiences there, but none of them were scary. Once they had arrived and unpacked, Brandon, my uncle's partner, was very tired, so he asked to lie down and take a nap. My uncle came downstairs and he, my grandma, and I were talking. Until, suddenly, Brandon flew down the stairs with a terrified look pasted on his face.
Rachel:He was colorless. He just stared at us until he was finally able to speak. He told us before he could even fall asleep the closet door opened. For a little context, there was one of those huge closets that had nooks and crannies in it. It was so big, you could walk in.
Rachel:Though, it was at an angle like one of those closets under a set of stairs. There were no stairs over this closet, however. My grandma kept her Christmas decorations in the closet, so it was partially empty at the moment. The door opened and out walked a tiny man. A gnome, as he said.
Rachel:Wearing a checkered flannel and a pair of denim overalls. He then walked around the room, not noticing Brandon. And then walked back into the closet and closed the door. He probably didn't sleep well in that particular trip, but he did come back for many years to come. Brandon wasn't on drugs or a heavy drinker, and he wasn't one for folly either.
Rachel:I came to see that over the years. As for the little man, was he a ghost? Was he an actual gnome? I really don't know. We never came to any conclusion.
Rachel:It was close to Christmas, and my mother was pregnant with what would be my sister. She was around 6 months along, and she was not in the best mood because she was afraid there would be another strike, and my father would have no work. She was hard on me. I think because she did not want me to expect much from Santa. I had come down from upstairs and the lights on the tree had been turned on, and there were a few packages around the tree.
Rachel:I sadly thought that none would be for me. When, to my surprise and delight, these beautiful fairies, about 8 to 10 of them, were holding hands and dancing around one of the packages. They were about 6 to 7 inches high, and bright shining blue, from powder white, blue to a deep bright neon blue with a hint of purple. Their light was so radiant around them, and made it look like they had wings of light. Their laughter was bell like, and they called my name.
Rachel:I moved closer and sat on the floor. They told me not to be sad, that my mother loved me and that she was going to have a baby girl so I would have a sister. I asked them how they knew the package was for me, and they said it was the little blue toy piano I wanted. I was so happy and told my mother. At first, she did not believe me.
Rachel:But when I told her in the box was a piano and it was a blue one, And she could see nothing had been moved. She softened. She wanted to name the baby Angelica if a girl, but named her Sylvia, which means girl. Or, Fay of the woods. I have a few stories, and I don't know how to make sense of them.
Rachel:Or if they are even connected It's just so strange that most of them involve so much of the color red and they happen near Christmas Just to be clear, I have no history of mental illness I don't drink or use drugs It was the week after Christmas, and it was a very cold and icy year I was on a walk The doctor told me no exercise, only walks, as I'd just received stitches. On the way back from my walk, a group of teenagers, or young adults, couldn't really tell, were walking in the opposite direction. What was odd is that they were all wearing red, and they gave me the strangest feeling. I don't know how to explain it. Except it all just felt off.
Rachel:They had a medium sized dog with them that looked like it was only a few months old. It seemed to be some sort of pug boxer mix. I don't know exactly. The dog tried to jump on me, and I recoiled in fear as I had all of these stitches going down a line in my stomach. Normally, I love animals and was sad I was coming across as someone who wanted to push away a cute puppy.
Rachel:However, I couldn't speak. I don't know why, but no matter how much I wanted to explain to them why I was reacting this way, no words were coming out of my mouth. As weird as I was acting, they were even weirder. But I just can't explain why. They just didn't act right.
Rachel:I finally got the dog off me and kept on my walk, finally getting past them. I didn't think too much of it really, just that I had stitches and I overreacted in my mind about the experience. Maybe I couldn't talk because I was so afraid the dog would cause me more pain. I continued my daily walks, but a few days later I ran into one of the young men from the group and he had the dog. Once again he was wearing red.
Rachel:The dog was not on a leash, and it came straight for me and started jumping on me. I once again tried to get the dog off of me, and once again I found myself unable to utter a word. The guy's behavior was so off and just plain weird. He finally approached me to take the dog and when he did I saw his eyes were black. Not pupils dilated black, but full on black.
Rachel:No whites at all. I took a few steps back, and I still could not find my words He took the dog in his arms and started kissing it and talking to it with baby talk He then looked at me and said, she won't hurt you, she's a nice dog And extended his arms offering me the dog. I finally found some words and explained why I was afraid. He gave me a very strange smile, and I left As I walked off, I told him to have a nice day I felt paralyzed with fear So uneasy His eyes were black Other than that and wearing all red, he looked normal. About 18 to 22 years old, blond hair, fair skin, and pretty tall.
Rachel:Few days later I went on yet another walk. You would think maybe I'd just head to the gym and get on the treadmill, but I hadn't learned my lesson. I walked pretty far this time. The sun was shining. I was on
Tree:a
Rachel:trail. About 2 miles from my home, far into the countryside. Perpendicular in front of me was another trail, and lining the far side of that trail was a copse of trees that were all junipers, And going around all of the trees were berry bushes. I explained this to say that it's possible to weave in and out of the trees, Because of the bushes, there is absolutely no space. Yet, I saw a girl weaving in and out of them.
Rachel:I thought that perhaps my eyes were playing tricks on me, but as I approached I saw my eyes were not deceiving me. It was a young girl, about the same age as the boy, wearing all red and wearing a long red hat. It looked like an elf hat and went halfway down her bat. I know I sound crazy, but it's what I saw She had long brown hair and was about 5 foot 4 or 5 foot 5 inches tall A little curvy, but no means overweight At this point I was really convinced I was hallucinating until a runner approached with her dog on a leash. This other brunette woman had a dog, it was a greyhound, and she said hello, and I said hello back.
Rachel:At this point, the copse of trees ended, and the strange girl in red crossed to the other side of the path and did something else that was odd. She hid behind a big pole that was in the ground. She just hid behind it as we approached the end of our path. The runner looked in her direction, and then turned to look at me. Oh, finally.
Rachel:I'm not crazy. She's seeing this too. I stayed far behind as I didn't want to be the first to approach the strange girl. The runner turned right on the path in the direction of the girl, and as she did she emerged from behind the pole and started walking beside her. I was close enough to hear their conversation, but far enough to be out of it.
Rachel:The strange girl asked the runner her name, and she gave it to her. For about 5 minutes this odd, elf hatted girl stayed with the runner, keeping her from running, And chatting to her non stop. I felt so scared, and I can't tell you why. The odd girl kept turning around and giving me this weird knowing smile. I walked even slower for fear of having to talk to her as well.
Rachel:Finally, the runner told her she had to keep going and took off. I was so scared because there was no one else on this road and the runner was gone. Just me and that weird girl walking a few feet in front of me. She kept turning back and still giving me that weird knowing smile, and slowing her pace. I knew if I could get about 200 feet further, I would be on a more public road, and I wouldn't have to worry.
Rachel:And for the last odd thing As soon as this girl turned on to the public road, she disappeared. I didn't see her disappear, but when I turned the corner, she was gone. And there was nowhere for her to go that fast, even running. I never saw her again, but I do occasionally bump into the runner. I wish I would have asked her about what happened, but I always felt too weird about it.
Rachel:And now I feel too much time has passed Mrs. Jane K. Jacob of County Wex Ford, wrote that on a winter's night in 1933, when she was just 9 years old, she was sharing a bedroom with her mother. The bed was drawn across the fireplace, directly opposite the door, which was partly open, and the light of a lamp illuminated the bedroom floor. She had been awake for some time, and was aware of everything around her, when suddenly she saw a little figure, roughly 12 inches high, enter the room through the doorway, wearing what appeared to be twisted rags of different colors around its body and head.
Rachel:She could see its face distinctly as looking very young and piquant. It walked with downcast eyes towards the bed. Holding in its hand a smallish piece of newspaper, recounted missus Jacob. It walked under my bed, and I heard the rustling of paper for a few moments. Then there was silence, and out from under the bed came the little person with the newspaper.
Rachel:It walked towards the door, and when halfway there, turned and looked back to where it had been. Then, it continued on its way, passed through the doorway, and was gone. I remained still, hoping it might return, but it did not. The next morning on investigation, I found many small pieces of newspaper in the fireplace. My father said someone had told him that the house, in which we no longer live, was built on a ferry pass.
Rachel:Dead into the Thinning Veils season and every night I was woken by the sound of a party happening in my kitchen and sitting room I could hear people chatting and enjoying themselves downstairs And even the thump of footsteps travelling up and down the stairs Yet as soon as I fully woke, the noises would stop. This happened repeatedly, night after night to the point where I began to feel as though I was losing my mind. One night in particular, I heard a loud woman in the kitchen. She seemed to be the life of the party, whatever sort of gathering was taking place. After several nights of this, I became increasingly frustrated.
Rachel:I knew it must be some kind of sleep phenomenon where dreams feel vivid So I tried to dismiss it and move on with my night Not even thinking about it the following days It wasn't until about a week later that I had the 'dream' again This now infamous kitchen soiree But this time, even after I woke, I didn't find the peace I expected. Upon waking, I felt unnerved. My heart was racing. I sat up to catch my breath, and that's when I noticed a large shadow hovering over me. It didn't fill me with the sense of dread and evil that people often associate with shadows.
Rachel:Of course I was frightened. It was something unknown. But it seemed more curious, as though it was studying me. It was making the movements of a curious person. Though it just formed a dark black cloud.
Rachel:I stayed still watching as it leaned over me. Then I could hear noises downstairs which struck me as odd because I was certain I was awake. I reached over to my bedside table to grab my phone and check the time. It was 3:24 AM. The shadow was no longer bending over me, but still stood beside the bed.
Rachel:I could hear footsteps and people downstairs in the kitchen, just like in the dream, except this time I was fully conscious. I considered going down to check, but I knew no one would be there. I don't know what's been happening. At first I thought it was just a recurring dream, but after that night with the shadow and the noises while I was fully awake, a few things crossed my mind. Perhaps?
Rachel:I'm living on a ferry pass. Or maybe my house, or even I am slipping between timelines. But what was the shadow? Was it somehow connected to the people and sounds in the kitchen and sitting room? Could it have been one of the footsteps I heard going up and down the stairs?
Rachel:I don't think I'll ever know. I considered fairies because stories always say they love the cold months for their mischievous deeds. And if it was the fairies, I don't think they're tiny. This seem like ordinarily sized people by their voices, and by the size of that shadow. This true experience reads like a ghost story, but there is a Fae element to it It was at some point between Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve and a friend and I have been out for a drink and decided to go for a ghost walk.
Rachel:Named as such, as we were going to a place called Gibbotts Hill, which in centuries past held the gallows in which Deep Rustlers and other executed criminals were locally hung It is a place that, since childhood, I have felt exudes a strange atmosphere Gibbet's Hill lies between 2 crossroads along a path called Douglas Lane. Douglas Lane itself is reputed to be haunted by a Grey Lady. She is said to be the specter of Lady Douglas, a past resident of Whitten Towers in the nearby village of Whitten Le Wair. It is said that she was murdered, possibly by her husband, and that her spirit wonders on New Year's Eve between the villages of Whittonle Ware and Howdenle Ware. That night was a crisp covering of snow of a few inches deep, and there was a bright moon, Perhaps full, I do not recall, but it cast a purplish blue light upon the snow Upon turning onto Douglas Lane, a fox crossed our path We proceeded along the lane to a ramshackle, empty old house that has been since bought and renovated, which as children we used to run past as it was Mad Mary's House.
Rachel:Mad Mary probably wasn't mad, but she was a reclusive old woman who sometimes twitched curtains and looked out As children, we thought she was a witch Mary had, at this time, been dead for a number of years, and her house had fallen into a state of disrepair It was to our surprise as we cut behind it onto fields where there is a public right of way To see lights on in the house Except there wasn't, but it seemed to be a trick of the strange moonlight It was quiet and still Save for the oddly no cturnal calling of a solitary crow, roosting in a skeletonized tree on the crossroads. We mildly jumped when we were approached by a curious horse who we hadn't noticed. We had spooked ourselves up for the walk and had a few beers, but the events that followed as described. We crossed the field to the corner where the stile at the end of a thorn or holly hedge ran, except the stile was not there. That seemed odd.
Rachel:It had been there for years, so we looked along the hedge to see where it had moved to. No sign, so we retraced our steps to see if we'd made an error. Knowing something of folklore, I talked about being pixie led, and joked that we should turn our coats inside out and break the spell. But we both decided it was too cold to even take our coats off. So I said I'd heard that whistling was another method to reputedly break the spell, But us both being fans of M.
Rachel:R. Jane's also ventured that whistles can sometimes also attract the wrong attention from the other side. That did not stop me whistling, however. Strangely, especially as this area is an open area on the top of a hill, and not really an echoey place. There was an echo of the whistling, but not instantly.
Rachel:There was a short delay of only a second or so, but still noticeable where the whistle hung on the air and then returned. As if in mimicry, rather than a bounce, so there was an odd, climatic effect at play. Our steps led us back to the corner of the field. Still no style. Then suddenly there was a noise at the other end of the hedge, low down.
Rachel:It sounded like something charging at us, breaking twigs all the while. When I remember this in my mind's eye, it's like a triple zoom camera effect that you see in some films where it appears a figure is stationary, but the background rushes forward. Whatever it was that made the noise, we did not see, nor did we wait to see. Without a word to each other, we both scrambled over the thorn hedge and ran across fields, only stopping when we'd reached a path leading back into our village. We stopped then, and looking at each other, we're both like, what the expletive was that all about?
Rachel:No idea. But whatever it was, and I still remember it as being very strange, instilled in the pair of us a sense of sudden panic. Some days later, I retraced the walk in daylight, the snow having melted so could not follow the exact footsteps, but discovered at the end of the spiny hedge the style where it had always been. Well, those stories added some fright to the festivities.
Woodgrin:As they should. You all have gone too soft on the winter solstice and holidays. How does the song go? There'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago. It wasn't always about cute decorations and pretty food.
Tree:Could you give me a scratch on my bark, just below the star? It's giving me a wicked itch.
Rachel:Sure thing. Speaking of which, I think you are looking pretty fabulous. Don't you agree, Woodgrin?
Tree:Yes. That's it.
Woodgrin:Just so you know, the tree's already made some requests for other adjustments as well. It's quite opinionated.
Rachel:Yeah. First, it's the lights, and now it's gonna start picking out color schemes?
Tree:I've graced you with my presence for the season. Now make me fabulous.
Rachel:Okay. Then, but after we send our listeners off with a festive farewell.
Woodgrin:Happy holidays, everyone, from us here in Nuuly.
Rachel:Happy holidays, and remember, may your days be filled with weird and your nights with wonder. Weird and Wonder is a Luna and Flora Media production. The voice of Woodgren is voiced by Paul Watt. Special thanks to Patrick Weegee of Anomalous Publishing for use of the book Seeing Fairies by Marjorie t Johnson, and also a special thanks to doctor Simon Young for compiling the fairy census in which we have gotten a few of our stories tonight. I would also like to thank Florian Beynar for the technical editing, and, also, I would like to thank all of the show's supporters.
Rachel:It wouldn't be possible without you.
Tree:Don't forget to subscribe.