Russia (Various Regions)—Folktales of the dead have many variations, from mythology that often reveal something about culture, just as tall tales show how fictional characters shaped a country’s geography. In Russian folktales of the dead, like in many countries, there are variations of singular motifs. In this case, the recurring theme of death. Here, we examine three stories about the macabre from the early 1900s. These stories show death in three similar lights that feature corpses, ghosts, and evil sorcerers.
Tales of the Dead #1
The Risen Corpse
There once was a peasant traveling many nights on his horse until he came to a churchyard burial ground (or God’s acre). After setting his horse to pasture, the peasant attempted to sleep. However, there existed in the burial grounds an eerie feeling, and so the peasant could not sleep. Suddenly, the ground shifted beneath him and revealed itself to be a grave. Moving quickly, the peasant jumped out of the way in fear as the corpse inside rose up with the lid of his own coffin. It was white, and gangly, and had long, languid arms of a frightening ghast. Without word, the corpse ran to the gate with his coffin lid, laid it at a slant, scaled it, and ran into the nearby village.
In setting the coffin lid aside, the peasant waited for the corpse to return. The night grew still and quiet and the peasant waited and waited. Owls hooted, snakes crawled, and spiders spun their webs. As such, the peasant, seeing the coming darkness, started a fire.
The Corpse Comes Home
By dawn, the peasant was tired of waiting. After packing, he nearly left, when sure enough the corpse came running back up the roadway, its old skin-covered bones knocking together. It mounted the fence and then fell frantically to the graves, searching for its coffin lid.
“Where is my lid?” the corpse asked, its lips drawing back from its teeth.
“I cannot tell you,” the peasant responded. Fear gripped his heart.
‘”Oh? How would you like it if I dashed your head off the gravestone then?” the corpse responded.
“I have a better idea!” the peasant said. “I will give you your lid, if you tell me where you went just now into the village.”
The corpse thought this over, noticed the coming dawn, and then told the peasant that he killed two young lads. As the sun crept higher over the faraway hills, the peasant threatened: “Speak now, or the sun will take you!” The corpse nodded and said: ” You must cut off the left lappet from my own shroud. When you come to their house, scatter hot sparks into a pot and put the shroud piece within. The smoke they inhale will bring them back from the dead.”
Discovery and Reburial
The peasant left and the corpse reentered the grave, covering himself with the coffin lid. In town, the peasant discovered the house where the sorcerer killed the two men. He entered and explained himself to the family. Grief-stricken, they were willing to try any amount of magic to raise their fallen sons. The peasant, using the corpse’s instructions, revived both of the slain boys.
Though the peasant felt relief at this miracle, the family quickly overcame him and tied him up. They explained that if he had the ability to raise both boys back to life, then he must have been the one to put both boys into death. Though rational appeal failed the family, the peasant told the truth about the whole affair.
The family, knowing something foul poisoned the graveyard, agreed with the peasant’s story and set him free. Soon enough, the news of a murderous corpse haunting the graveyard spread throughout the town. The townsfolk converged on the cemetery. There, they buried an oaken stake into the corpse’s heart. With the corpse destroyed, the townspeople rewarded the peasant for his labors and such horrors never overcame them again.
Tales of the Dead #2
An Old Friend
One fine evening, a carpenter, returning home from a festival in a nearby village, saw an old friend walking toward him on the road. The carpenter became excited, as he had not seen this man in nigh a decade. Joyously, the carpenter hailed him warmly and they talked in quick, excited tones.
After spending time catching up, they agreed to celebrate the evening together. The carpenter’s friend informed him that his home was nearby in the flats before the hills. So they ventured a short distance and found his izba (dwelling). After starting a fire, they drank and continued talking throughout the night. The carpenter, from time to time, felt shadows of cold on his shoulder. In the evening, when standing at the window, he looked out to see great throngs of fog on the hills and floating nearby.
Nervously, the carpenter beseeched his friend the great tragedy of his fear.
“It is no matter,” said his friend. “Things grow dark out here.”
A Return to Form
But the joyousness of their rejoining was not lost. They discussed everything from how their lives had changed and what new fortunes had come to them throughout the years. It was a fine evening of rekindled friendship. The carpenter had not recalled an evening of conversation quite like that for some years.
As it approached dawn, the carpenter decided to leave. He said his farewell and climbed atop his horse. At the last moment, he took note of an odd feeling rendered on the morning air. As the sun crept over the hills, it illuminated his surroundings. With sudden realization, he looked about himself and the feeling in his gut turned spun into a reality. As it turned out, this was no ordinary izba. It was in fact a graveyard. Graves, graves, were everywhere! His old friend stood not at the door, but amongst the headstones, and upon his own grave! The carpenter, terrified, watched as his friend waved to him in ghostly visage.
The carpenter tore off on his horse fearfully into the hills and away from his friend’s ghastly home. As he learned some days later in the nearby village of Gudar, his friend had died in an accident 10 years prior. As the locals shared, his ghost had been seen on the outskirts of town ever since.
Tales of the Dead #3
The Soldier’s Arrival
In the early summer of year during wartime, a soldier heading home crossed paths with an old miller friend. He sat, and took some of the edge off of his travels by sharing in spirits with his friend. There conversation took many turns, and the soldier learned that a local sorcerer recently died. Now, according to the locals, he rises at night and terrifies those wandering through the darkness. The miller urged the solder to him to stay the night, lest he be waylaid in the night.
The soldier reasons: “What was the use of it? Why, the soldier was a State servant, and a soldier cannot be drowned in the sea, nor be burned in the fire! So he answered, ‘I will go, for I should like to see my relatives as soon as I can.'”
Not to mention, he was a sturdy combatant and had his saber. He had yet to be injured in battle and bested most men when it came to martial combat. With that, the soldier set out with his friend calling after him.
“Beware the sorcerer and his evil intent! He cannot be trusted!”
But, ever confident, off the soldier went on his way.
The Sorcerer
The soldier, in his evening travel to the village, crossed a graveyard emanating a strange green glow. Inside, the soldier found the sorcerer, cast in a spectral light, sewing his own shoes. He hailed the sorcerer in friendly manner, and there they spent a few moments discussing intent. The soldier was impervious, and the sorcerer felt intrigued by the man’s bravery.
“What makes you so brave?” the sorcerer asked.
“Wartime and battle,” replied the soldier. “I am stout and capable.”
The sorcerer pondered this and then fell to silence, and the two sat in the darkness around the green flame of the fire.
The Macabre Wedding
Deviously, the wizard invited the soldier to a local wedding and they headed off toward the village. At the wedding, they socialized with the patrons. It was a fine affair. Without warning, the sorcerer scared off the attendants, and in the emptied wedding space, he cornered the bride and groom.
“I will need blood from you,” he said.
In response, the newlyweds could only scream.
From them, he took two bags of blood, and he and the soldier fled.
“Why did you take their blood?” asked the soldier.
“To live wickedly and curse the living,” replied the wizard. “Under my magic, both of them are doomed to die. The only salve is to prick their heels and pour the blood back inside their bodies. In such a way, they could be reanimated.”
The soldier, disgusted by the wizard, kept his silence.
A Battle of Life and Death
As they walked, the wizard continued talking. He spoke of all manner of dark acts that he had done. Using his silence and the wizards own hubris as a weapon, the soldier listened. Eventually, the wizard discussed the only way to destroy the him. His body, he said, should be burned on a 100-cartload pile of aspen wood. Yet, the sorcerer mentions, his vanquishers must burn him completely.
“Out of my belly, snakes, worms, and reptiles will creep; jackdaws, magpies and crows will fly: you must catch them and throw them on the pile. If a single worm escapes, it will be no good, for I shall creep out into that worm.”
After revealing this information, the sorcerer decided to kill the soldier. In an attempt to overcome him, the sorcerer threw himself at the unprepared combatant. The soldier, a man of God and the Tsar, showed far more grit than expected, and ran the sorcerer down with his sword. Though not defeated, the wizard lay stunned, and so the soldier obtained the blood from the the magician’s pockets.
“I have what I need,” the soldier said, and turning left the evil wizard on the ground somewhere between life and death.
The Soldier’s Return and Once More Departure
Returning to the village, he inquired about the happenings after the wedding. The villagers told him of their retreat and hiding, and where the bodies of the bride and groom were kept. He entered their cold home and bade the family welcome. Coming to their bodies, he did as the sorcerer told to bring the two back to the living. As if by magic, they arose from the dead and thanked the soldier generously.
Afterward, the soldier visited the village elder (the starosta) and together they organized 100 loads of aspen wood with the help of the villagers. Venturing to the sorcerer’s grave, they raised him from the dirt, placing him atop the aspen pyre. As the fire consumed his body, his belly indeed opened and all manner of creatures and insects emerged, heading down the pyre and into the wilds. The peasants were ready, however, and fought back the sorcerer’s pests, eliminating the wizard’s presence from the village once and for all.
After the conflict, the soldier left the village and lived out the rest of his days in sublime comfort and health.
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