“BEWARE THE BODACH AT CHRISTMAS” and More Scary True Yule Tales! #WeirdDarkness #HolidayHorrors
01:27:07 Share

Lights are going up, snow is falling down, there's a feeling of goodwill around town. It could only mean one thing, McRib is here. People throwing parties, ugly sweaters everywhere. Stockings hung up by the chimney with care. It could only mean one thing, McRib is here. At participating McDonald's for a limited time.

We all dream, but for some people, what should be a time for their bodies and minds to rest turns into a nightmare from which they cannot escape. Our next Weird Darkness live stream is Saturday night, December 28th on the Weird Darkness YouTube channel. And during the live broadcast, I'll share some of these chilling nighttime stories.

Tales of shadow people, sleep paralysis, and demons who stalk their victims in that place between dreams and reality. I'll share true tales of prophetic dreams, some joyful, some not. Sleepwalking incidents that are both amusing and disturbing. I'll also share real stories of night terrors so horrifying that sleep

became something to fear and dread for those victimized by the night. You might not want to sleep after joining our next live-screen. It's Saturday, December 28th at 5pm Pacific, 6pm Mountain, 7pm Central, 8pm Eastern. On the lighter side, I'll also be responding to comments and questions live on the air and doing a giveaway of some Weird Darkness merch.

Prepare yourself for our next live scream for chilling tales of what some people must endure in an attempt to get some sleep. Find the details on the live screen page at WeirdDarkness.com. Stories and content in Weird Darkness can be disturbing for some listeners and is intended for mature audiences only. Parental discretion is strongly advised. From Weirdo Family member Kristen Harrison December 26th, 2020

My son had been put to bed and it was mom time. I had parboiled myself in a bubble bath hotter and was feeling very relaxed, except for a niggling feeling that something wasn't quite right. I figured it must be the beginnings of hunger touching my body. I made my way to the kitchen where I was met by my rotund feline. He made it loudly known that he was in need of sustenance despite having half a bowl full of kibble at his disposal.

Acknowledging his need, I put on hold my own desire for chocolate milk and cookies so as to eat my forbidden snack without the curious eyes of a small child hungrily begging for a morsel. When I say morsel, I mean every crumb and drop of delectable delicacies in my possession.

I intended to follow my voracious pet to his feeding station when I was stopped by a sensation of someone, some thing, being present besides my cat and myself. I glanced at my furry friend, and he was staring intently at a location in my home in a manner I've never seen him express. He's a very laid-back cat, so for him to be arching his back with his ears pinned to his head and growling was unheard of.

At this moment, I slowly made my way to the light switch to illuminate the area at which he was glaring. Once the lights were on, there was nothing. I felt a feeling of cold dread seep through me as he began to slowly stalk whatever he saw. Having grown up in the countryside, I knew the signs of a cat stalking its prey. This was not his stance. His stance was that of defense, as if a dog were advancing towards him.

My mind went directly to knowledge I have of entities and paranormal activity, along with a smattering of "What would Sam and Dean do?" I spoke aloud, in as calm a voice I could muster to the presence that was making itself clearly felt. It was not malevolent, but curious. "Good evening. I'm not sure who you are or what you want, but I'm going to ask you politely to leave, as I do not have any ill intentions towards you, and sure you do not have any towards me."

I then took my salt shaker from the table and thoroughly salted the area in which I felt the presence coming, and liberally in front of my sleeping child's door. I then put out a dish of leftover food from our dinner and a glass of water. Speaking again to the entity, I kindly said, "Here is some food for your journey, and may you find peace and happiness wherever you go." After all of this, I felt a warmth, as if there was a hug being wrapped around me, and my heart was touched.

Had no one shown kindness to whatever this entity was? The poor thing. My mother's heart went out to it, and I sent a hug out with my heart. My cat then went back to his wailing for his food, since he was most certainly wasting away to nothing from the unexpected interruption of his kibble-receiving. Christmas Ghost Stories in this episode of Weird Darkness. Welcome, Weirdos! I'm Darren Marlar and this is Weird Darkness,

Here you'll find stories of the paranormal, supernatural, legends, lore, the strange and bizarre, crime, conspiracy, mysterious, macabre, unsolved, and unexplained. Coming up in this episode… Earlier this month I shared some true reports of people seeing Kris Kringle, or what appeared to be Kris Kringle, in real life. But there are many more of those strange sightings to share.

Christmas has been celebrated for centuries, and gift-giving has been around in America since well before the Civil War. But how we celebrate and what we give changes depending on the time. We'll take a look at what Christmas was like for American pioneers in the 1800s. At a Christmas party, the revelers heard a horrifying scream from outside. They rushed out to hear the screams were coming from the sky, at least above the rooftops. But how could that be?

It was then that they learned Oliver Lurch had disappeared, never to be seen again. Nothing says "Christmas" like a poisonous weed. Well, you explain, mistletoe. We'll look at why we're supposed to kiss under this deadly plant during the holidays. A horrible fire breaks out at an Oklahoma school during the holidays of 1924, and the ghosts of the children still linger at the site.

You might be celebrating Christmas like a Viking and not even realize it. From the holiday ham to the evergreen in your living room, we'll look at how the pagan celebration of Yule influenced modern Christmas traditions.

Kids in America anxiously await the arrival of Santa Claus bounding down the chimney with gifts and candy for the good little boys and girls. But that's America. What comes down the chimney of Irish and Scottish kids may not be so jolly, plump and loving. Some Gaelic children have to watch out for the boddick.

But first, it's something we're trying to revive here on Weird Darkness: the lost tradition of telling ghost stories at Christmas.

If you're new here, welcome to the show! And if you're already a member of this weirdo family, please take a moment and invite someone else to listen! Recommending Weird Darkness to others helps make it possible for me to keep doing the show. And while you're listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com where you can send in your own personal paranormal stories, watch horror hosts present old scary movies 24/7, shop for Weird Darkness and Weirdo merchandise, listen to free audiobooks that I've narrated,

Sign up for the newsletter to win free stuff I give away every month and more. And on the social contact page, you can find the show on Facebook and Twitter. And you can also join the Weird Darkness Weirdos Facebook group. Now, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into the Weird Darkness.

Our fascination with ghostly tales around Christmastime goes back thousands of years and is rooted in ancient celebrations of the winter solstice. In the depths of winter, pagan traditions included a belief in a ghostly procession across the sky known as the Wild Hunt. Recounting tales of heroism and monstrous and supernatural beings became a midwinter tradition. Dark tales were deployed to entertain on dark nights.

Ghosts have been associated with winter cold since those ancient times. According to art historian Susan Owens, author of The Ghosts, A Cultural History, the Oat of Beowulf is one of the oldest surviving ghost stories, probably composed in the 8th century. This is the tale of a Scandinavian prince who fights the monster Grendel.

Evil and terrifying, Grendel has many ghostly qualities and is described as a "grimmagaste" or "spirit" and a "death shadow" or "shifting fog" gliding across the land. In 1611, Shakespeare wrote "The Winter's Tale," which includes the line "A sad tale's best for winter; I have one of sprites and goblins."

Two centuries later, the teenaged Mary Shelley set her influential horror story Frankenstein in a snowy wasteland, although she wrote it during a wet summer in Switzerland.

The Victorians invented many familiar British Christmas traditions, including Christmas trees, cards, crackers, and roast turkey. They also customized the winter ghost story, relating it specifically to the festive season. The idea of something dreadful lurking beyond the light and laughter inspired some chilling tales.

Both Elizabeth Gaskell and Wilkie Collins published stories in this genre. But the most notable and enduring story of the period was, you guessed it, Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol from 1843, which I have narrated in its entirety for you if you'd like to listen to it. It's free and you can find it on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com.

In a Christmas tale, this vivid, atmospheric fable, gloomy miser Ebenezer Scrooge is confronted first by the spirit of his dead business partner, Jacob Marley, and thereafter by a succession of Christmas ghosts. The revelations about his own past and future, and the lives of those close to him, lead to a festive redemption which has spawned a host of imitations and adaptations.

Dickens wrote the story to entertain, drawing on the tradition of the ghostly midwinter tale, but his aim was also to highlight the plight of the poor at Christmas. His genius for manipulating sentiment was never used to better effect, but perhaps the most enjoyable elements of the story are the atmospheric descriptions of the hauntings themselves.

the door-knocker which transforms into Marley's face, and the sinister hooded figure of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. The tradition was further developed in the stories of M. R. James, a medieval scholar who published ghost stories of an antiquary in 1904. His chilling, Gothic yarns focused on scholars or clergymen who discovered ancient texts or objects with terrifying supernatural consequences.

Typically, James used the framing device of a group of friends telling stories around a roaring fire. In the introduction to Ghost Stories, he said, "I wrote these stories at long intervals, and most of them were read to patient friends, usually at the seasons of Christmas." Seminal stories include #13, "Oh Whistle and I'll Come to You," and "A School Story." Like Dickens, James has been widely imitated and adapted, with Stephen King citing him as an influence.

"Kings the Shining" certainly fits into the genre of an ice-bound chiller. Christmas ghost stories morph into new forms as time passes, like "Ectoplasm." Spin-offs of "A Christmas Carol" include Frank Capra's 1946 classic "It's a Wonderful Life," in which the story is transposed to small-town America, and the 2019 film "Last Christmas," the tale of a dysfunctional young woman permanently dressed as a Christmas elf ripe for Yuletide redemption.

This contemporary version conveys messages about integration and the value of diversity. And M.R. James' "Martin's Close," the story of a 17th-century murder and its supernatural outcome, has also been adapted for the small screen. So it seems the atavistic desire to lose oneself in tales of the supernatural is still with us.

Christmas ghost stories enhance our enjoyment of the mince pies and mulled wine, and the frisson of a paranormal tale offsets the feel-good festive spirit that might otherwise be cloying. Some things never change. We will still have a fear of the unknown, a yearning for what is lost, and a desire to be secure.

In an uncertain, fast-paced world mediated through smartphones and social media, the seasonal ghost story is here to stay. The jolt of fear and dread such stories convey make the Christmas lights glitter even more brightly. This being Weird Darkness, you know I have some of those Yuletide stories of Spectres. We'll do that up next.

We've talked about Christmas-time ghost stories. Now let's actually tell a few. The following weird tale took place in Liverpool, England, in the early 1990s, and it has never been explained. It all started one foggy December evening in 1991. On the evening of Friday, December 20, 1991, at 7 p.m., the Edwards family of Dovecott decided to go and do a bit of late Christmas shopping in Liverpool's city center.

Mr. Edwards drove his wife and four kids to town in his old Volvo estate, and as usual finding a place to park proved to be a real pain. Mr. Edwards drove about, searching desperately for a parking space as his three sons and daughter gazed at the spectacular Christmas lights and decorations lining the trees.

The youngest of the Edwards children was Abby, who was only six years old. She loved Christmas, and for days she had been pestering her mom and dad to take her to see the big fir tree covered with colored lights in Church Street. As Abby's dad was grumbling about finding a place to park the Volvo, her mom suddenly pointed to a secluded side street called Bold Place, which runs from Berry Street, past the back of St. Luke's Church, up to Roscoe Street.

"You're a genius!" Mr. Edwards complimented his wife, and he turned left and drove up the poorly-lit cobbled road, which was on a bit of an incline. As soon as the car was parked, the kids eagerly jumped down to the vehicle and all four of them started asking their parents what they were getting for Christmas. Meanwhile, an icy fog rolled down the street. Mr. Edwards checked the doors of the car were locked, then had a quick discussion with his wife about where they were going to first.

He wanted to go to a shop in Bold Street to buy his father a cardigan, but Mrs. Edwards insisted upon going to Dixon's first to buy a CD player for her sister. Then the children started arguing too. They wanted to go to various toy stores. Mr. Edwards shouted, "All right, will y'all just shut up?" The family were about to walk off when Mr. Edwards suddenly noticed something, and his heart skipped a beat. With a look of dread, he glanced about Bold's place and muttered, "Where's Abby?"

Everyone looked around. Mr. Edwards anxiously looked through the windows of the car, but his little daughter wasn't there. "Where is she gone?" Mrs. Edwards asked with a tremble in her voice. The three boys looked about, but the streets were empty. Then they all heard a faint voice scream out in the distance, "Daddy!" The voice sounded like Abby, and it came from the top of Bold Place towards Roscoe Street.

The Edwards family rushed up the cobbled road with the father leading the way. "Abby!" Mr. Edwards shouted. "Where are you?" The gates at the back of St. Luke's were open, and Mr. Edwards surmised that his daughter had wandered into the precincts of the old church. He hurried into the grounds followed closely by his wife and their sons, and once again they all heard Abby cry out for her father. But the little girl was nowhere to be seen, and the fog was getting thicker by the minute.

Mr. Edwards didn't want to alarm his wife and kids, but he wondered if some perverted lunatic had grabbed his daughter and taken her into the ruins of the old church. He handed his wife the car keys and told her to go and bring the torch from the vehicle. She did this, and Mr. Edwards climbed up onto the ledge of a church window and shone the flashlight into the deserted church ruins.

The interior was deserted, with nothing but rubble scattered about. Mr. Edwards knew that the Church of St. Luke had been gutted by an incendiary bomb in World War II during the Blitz. Only the shell of the building survived, and the church had been left that way as a reminder of the war. And yet it sounded as if Abby's voice had come from inside the church. As Mrs. Edwards helped her husband down from the window, she said, "'Listen!'

It was the faint, eerie sounds of a church organ, and it seemed to be emanating from the church. Mr. Edwards said, "Sound can play funny tricks at night. Come on, let's go to the police." Mrs. Edwards started to cry, but her husband said, "It'll be all right. We'll find her, love. She can't have gone far." The family went to the police station in Hope Street and told the desk sergeant about their lost daughter.

The sergeant alerted all the patrol cars in the area and told officers on the city center beat to be on the lookout for the girl. The Edwards family then rushed back to Bold Place to resume their search for the girl. They searched the grounds of St. Luke's once again, and after 20 minutes they were about to return to their car when something happened which continues to puzzle the Edwards family to this day.

A tall man wearing a top hat and a long black coat came out of the grounds of St. Luke's, and walking with him was little Abby holding his hand. When Abby saw her mom and dad, she ran to them and started to cry as her father picked her up. The sinister man in black looked like something out of the Victorian age. He had long, bushy sideburns, a pallid face, and staring, ink-black eyes.

He stood outside the gates of the church and in a creepy, low voice, the outdated-looking stranger said, "Please accept my sincere apology for any distress caused." He then turned and walked silently back towards the rear of the church ruins. Mrs. Edwards grabbed Abby from her husband and said, "Are you all right? Where have you been?" Abby just said, "I'm fine, mummy." Mr. Edwards was furious and he shouted after the man, "Oi, who are you? What's your game, eh?"

Then a police patrol car came tearing down the road and Mr. Edwards told the officers of the vehicle about the stranger who had returned his daughter. Three police officers bolted from the car and rushed into the grounds of the church wielding their batons, but the police found no one. The grounds were empty. More police turned up and the grounds were searched again with powerful torches, but the place was deserted. However, several police officers also heard the faint strains of a church organ playing nearby somewhere.

But they never determined just where the strange music was coming from. One of the policemen asked Little Abby where she had been, and the child gave a strange account. She said an old woman in a shawl had grabbed her hand and dragged her into the church, where a mass was being held. In the church, there were many people dressed in old-fashioned clothes. The women wore big hats, and the men were all dressed in black.

Abby had screamed for her father, but the old woman had put her hand over the girl's mouth to silence her. Sometime later, a tall man came into the church and pulled Abby from the old woman's clutches. He had been the man who had taken Abby back to her parents. The intrigued policeman continued to interrogate the child, and he asked her if the man had spoken to her about the strange incident. Abby shook her head and then said, "The man said he had been dead a long time, that's all."

A cold shudder ran up everyone's spine when they heard the child's reply. Since that strange incident, the Edwards family refuses to go anywhere near St. Luke's Church, especially during the Christmas period. Another ghostly tale comes from Ali G. "Around Christmas time 2001, I had a few weird experiences involving a spirit that must still live in our house.

One of the past owners, a lady, died in our house. Around Christmas time, I felt the presence more and a lot stronger than I usually did. One night, I decided to draw whatever my hand felt like drawing. I drew a bottle with ribbons exploding out of it, then a yacht. Then it felt like someone was moving my hand for me. My hand drew a circular shape that, at first, looked like a peach. My hand lifted and dropped and made a mark inside the circle.

My hand lifted again and dropped, and it made a weird curve. My hand drew another dot. I regained full control over my hand, and I looked at what I had drawn. A weird smiley face. I told my mom about it, and she said to try it again the next night. And so I did. I was painting some landscapes in watercolors when I felt the presence again. My mom had said that she thought her name was Faye, so that was the name that stuck in my mind.

I asked, "What is your name?" and I let my hand be controlled. I wrote what looked like the name "Faye." I asked what the last name was. I wrote something that looked like "Edith." This was all confusing. I asked why it was here, and the reply looked like "I'm lost." I asked why it was here with me, and the reply looked kind of "Krusby," but was still very hard to read.

I asked, "What?" and the answer cleared up a bit, but still not a real word. I asked again, and the final reply came what looked like "crusty." I'm still puzzled, but the spirit may have meant the house was crusty since it's falling to bits in some areas. Later on, my mom confirmed that the lady's name was Edith. This freaked me out big time, and I still felt the presence strongly for a while until a few days after Christmas.

Bonnie O tells about a Christmas phone call from heaven when her mother passed away three years prior. We were very close, and I miss her daily. Last Christmas evening, I went to bed and woke up to the phone ringing. I answered it, and a voice that was very familiar to me said, "'Hello there.' It was my mother's voice. The line had a static noise, and it sounded to cut in and out. I said, "'This can't be you, Mom. You're dead.' She said, "'Oh, come on now.'

She sounded a bit agitated, and then we were cut off. My 16-year-old daughter was sleeping in the next room and also heard the phone ring that night. I know it was my mother's voice. She has a Norwegian accent, and it was her." This next story comes from the Your Ghost Stories website, written by Dar77. Christmas 1993. I went to stay with my then-best friend, Terry.

She and her parents had been given a place to stay for a bit. It was a house down the old highway in Nevada City, California. This house still had everything from its previous tenants, even a fridge that had been unplugged for who knows how long that still had some food in it. Terrace's parents were bikers involved with the Hells Angels and would rarely make an appearance at home. Being 16, having that sort of setup seemed really ideal at that time.

We got to come and go as we pleased. Sure, we starved most of the time, but hey, we had the life. Not really. I became curious as to what had happened to the previous occupants, and so I asked her if she knew. The story was that there had been a family in the house, and a violent fight broke out between the man of the house and some other guy. The two ended up out on the porch, and the other guy shot the family man dead.

I didn't believe her, and to prove it she took me out to the porch, which was a wraparound, to show me where the bullet had exited the man's body and took a chunk off the swing gate of the porch. Sure enough, there was a chunk in the gate. I immediately felt freaked out by the whole thing, but it certainly explained why everything was still in place and how her parents came into possession of the house.

Terry decided to take it even further by telling me that people had claimed to hear the man's boots walking the porch, and he'd even been seen a couple times. I felt extremely uncomfortable staying there after knowing all of this, so we would do our best to stay gone from there. We slept there only twice, showered once, ate ramen only once, and decided to get into the Christmas spirit during that duration.

There was a bunch of stacked up boxes in the living room left from the unfortunate family. In those boxes, there was some Christmas decorations. Being that time of year and having no one around to get the place feeling festive, we decided that we would put up some of them ourselves. When we finished, we took a seat on the couch. While we were sitting there, we started talking about the ghost and wondering whether or not we'd get to hear his boots. That's when the living room light began to dim.

It dimmed a little and then a little more until the room was dark. I became a little scared by this and we sat there in the dark, silently listening. Then we heard it. The boot steps out on the porch. They paced down the porch a ways and then stopped. Terry jumped up and ran to the light switch, turning it on. We thought it would be best to call it a night and headed to the bedroom.

We were laying there discussing the boot steps we had heard. Then we hear something crawling around in the attic above us. We told ourselves it was mice, but it had to have been some big mice to make such loud noises. The following day we decided to leave the house. Before doing so, I thought it would be a good idea to shower and eat. Turned out not being the case. The entire time I was in the shower, I felt like someone was watching me. An overwhelming feeling of danger sunk through me.

I took a very quick shower. Afterwards, I decided to cook some ramen on the stove since I hadn't eaten in a little while. In this kitchen, covering all the counters were random dishes stacked and next to the stove was a round table also stacked with dishes. I was standing there cooking the noodles when I heard a little "ping ping" sound, the type of sound you might hear if a water drop hit a dish. So I look around to see the source of this mysterious noise.

I see nothing. So I go back to staring at the noodles on the stove. Again I hear it ping, ping, and more pings, until there was a non-stop pinging. When I look to my right in the direction of the table against the stove, I see the source of the sound. It appeared to be maggots falling from the ceiling.

But there was no way they could be falling from there, as there was no hole or anything. But here they were, rapidly falling into the stacked dishes. I ran out into the living room to grab Terri to show her what was happening, and when we got back into the kitchen, there was nothing there. We ended up leaving the ramen sitting there and vacating that house for a couple of days. After that, I returned home, and Terri and her family had relocated once again. Paulina T sent in this one:

I was playing hide and seek with the other little kids from my mom's village of Satua, Western Samoa. I was quite young then, so I always followed my older cousin around. It was the middle of the night, and most of the kids were used to hiding anywhere in the dark. I wasn't used to it – I was only there for the Christmas holidays. I actually lived in Australia. Since we were all hiding in the graveyard, we were able to find our way around in the light cast by the church. We hid in the shadows and waited for the boy who was "it"

We could hear him coming, so we kept quiet. The boy was pretty loud. We wondered what he was making a fuss about, so we went to see. He later told us he had walked into the church as he thought that his brother was hiding there. He saw a boy standing right at the front of the altar. He didn't know if it was his brother because the boy's back was turned. He ran up and tapped this boy on the shoulder. As soon as he did, the strange boy disappeared and our friend fainted. We went home to tell his parents.

We got back to find him still lying there, dead still. His parents took him home and we never played in the graveyard at night again. We later found out that the boy's brother had been home the whole time. He hadn't been to the church at all. What really scared us was that the boy who fainted has been ill ever since that night and still hasn't recovered. Whoever was in the church must have been pretty mad that we kids disturbed him.

This next story is from V. Page. It was Christmas time of 1995 or 96 at my aunt's house on a reservation in North Dakota. Some of my family was in the living room watching television. The kids were playing in the rooms or sleeping, and my uncle, aunt, and I were sitting at the table putting a puzzle together. My cousin, who worked at a casino, was due home around midnight or 1 a.m.

That night, as she pulled up and was walking toward the house, she looked in the window and saw me sitting at the table, my uncle sitting across from me. She also saw someone standing to the left of me and someone standing in the corner. She continued to walk in the house thinking nothing of it. When she got inside, she said her hellos, put her stuff away, and came to join us at the table. As we were sitting there talking, she looked at me and asked who was standing next to me a few minutes ago and who was in the corner.

I told her no one, and she said, "Yeah, there was someone standing next to you. It looked like your mom and she was playing with your hair. I have long hair, which I used to wear down all the time. She said this person was running her hand on my hair as a mother does to a child. It kind of freaked me out, as I was probably only 12 or 13 at the time."

My cousin swears up and down that someone was standing over me, rubbing my head and watching me put the puzzle together with my aunt and uncle, and that there was another person standing behind that person. We got around to thinking the second person was probably her mom, who passed away on her birthday a week before Christmas back in 1992. In my family, we consider our aunts and uncles to be just like our moms and dads. After thinking that it could have been her, it didn't scare me so much.

Around Christmas, something strange almost always happens. We just think it's my mom visiting us. When Weird Darkness returns, a horrible fire breaks out at an Oklahoma school during the holidays of 1924, and the ghosts of the children still linger at the site.

Also coming up: Christmas has been celebrated for centuries, and gift-giving has been around in America since well before the Civil War. But how we celebrate and what we give changes depending on the time. Take a look at what Christmas was like for American pioneers in the 1800s. Christmas in the Old West. But first: Kids in America anxiously await the arrival of Santa Claus bounding down the chimney with gifts and candy for the good little boys and girls. But that's America.

What comes down the chimney of Irish and Scottish kids might not be so jolly, plump and loving. Some Gaelic children have to watch out for the bodach. That story is up next. When darkness falls and the days get colder, we gather around the fireplace to embrace the warmth. In the old days, when there were no radiators, the chimney was a treasure that helped us survive cold winters.

Folklore stories tell the chimney was as appreciated as feared, because it also was home to powerful spirits. Today, many children are told Father Christmas comes through the chimney with their gifts. But kids in Ireland and Scotland are cautious, because they have been told of the frightening Bodic, who enters the house using the chimney.

The evil Bodic does not need an invitation to visit your home. If he decides to come to your house, he will do so. And rest assured, he's not paying a courtesy visit. The Gaelic Bodic can be described in many ways. Some say he is a ghost or trickster. Others call him the devil himself.

Stories of Bodach can be found in folklore and modern literature. Scottish folklore accounts say Bodach comes to the chimney to kidnap naughty children. In an Irish account from the 16th or 17th century, Bodach is identified with the Monanin Maclir. This comparison is really not so far-fetched because both Bodach and Monanin Maclir were shapeshifters.

In Irish mythology, Menonin MacLear is the god of the sea, healing weather, and a master of shapeshifting. He was the one who gave the Tuath De Danann three incredible gifts:

It is said Mononon had many extraordinary magical powers. He owned a self-propelling boat named Scubatween or Wave Sweeper, a seaborne chariot drawn by a horse named Waterfoam or Enbar, a powerful sword named Frigaric or The Answerer, and a cloak of invisibility. In Scotland, stories of Bodic are often told to frighten children into good behavior. The Scottish Bodic is best described as a boogeyman.

As explained by Linda Radish in the book "The Old Magic of Christmas: Yuletide Traditions for the Darkest Days of the Year," if the dead could escape up the chimney, might not a few wayward spirits come tumbling down? While the witch used the chimney mostly to depart and re-enter her own home, the boddick, a Scottish version of the black-faced English boogeyman, liked to frequent other people's chimneys.

If he heard there were some particularly bad children up in the nursery, he might avail himself of the flues in those chimneys to get at them. There are few descriptions of the Bodek, since most of his victims were successfully "scrabbled up" by the chimney and never heard from again, but he was supposed to resemble a little old man. In the Scottish folktale "Bodek Aunt Celine" which I am probably butchering the pronunciation of, the evil Bodek appears as a beggar and kidnaps a young girl, carrying her off in a bag on his back.

However, he's outsmarted by a woman and some animals who decide to teach him a lesson. He leaves the bag in a house and asks a woman to look after it until he returns the next day. The woman agrees, and when the bodak vanishes out of sight, she suddenly hears a scream from the bag. "Let me out of the bag!" the girl cried. The woman let her out, and they filled the bag with mice, rats, dogs, black salmon, and seals.

The beggar came. "Where's the bag I left yesterday?" "Here you have it, here you have it," said the woman. He took it on his back and went away. "Sing a song, my girl, the road is long," he said. "Meow, meow," from the bag. He threw down the bag, opened it, and out leaped the dogs and animals. They went straight for the beggar and killed him, according to those Scottish folktales. The holiday season of 1924 was a brutal one in Oklahoma.

As winter solstice was marking the change of seasons, bitter cold swept across the plains. Frigid temperatures raged south out of western Canada like a runaway freight train. Snow covered most of Oklahoma. The roads were slippery, and the chill caused a run on heating stoves and warnings were sounded for railroad men, police officers, and others who worked outdoors at night.

And then came Christmas Eve, when a fire broke out in a one-room schoolhouse in Babs Switch, located just a few miles south of Hobart, Oklahoma. The tragedy is nearly forgotten today, but at the time it turned Christmas into a mournful holiday for the people of the region. Three dozen people died on that cold night and left the dark haunting that lingered behind for years. The evening of December 24th began with joy and laughter.

The little school building was packed with over 200 students and families enjoying the annual Christmas program. A Christmas tree, decorated with lighted candles, stood at the front of the room. Beneath it was a pile of presents that were going to be handed out to children at the end of the evening.

The fire began when a teenage student dressed as Santa Claus was removing presents from under the tree. He bumped against a branch and one of the candles was knocked loose. The flames ignited the sleeve of his suit, and things quickly spun out of control. Fire ignited paper decorations, tinsel and dry needles and spread quickly across the stage. In a panic, people rushed to the building's single door, which opened inward, as far too many doors do public buildings did in those days.

As most people piled against the door, it prevented anyone from opening it. Others rushed to the windows for escape. Unfortunately, though, the windows had recently been fitted with bars to keep vandals out of the school. A few men managed to break the glass and pass smaller children to safety between the bars. A teacher, Mrs. Florence Hill, saved several of her students' lives in this manner, but she herself perished in the fire.

When it was all over, the fire had claimed 36 lives, among them several entire families. The dead and injured were transported by car to Hobart, the nearest town of any size, and a temporary morgue was set up in a downtown building. As the numbers of the dead and injured 37 people were taken to the Hobart hospital were counted, there seemed to be one child that was not accounted for. The child, a little three-year-old girl named Mary Eddins, was reported missing.

but her body was never found. Her aunt, Alice Noah, escaped from the school but died a few days later, and she claimed that she carried Mary out of the building but handed her to someone that she did not know. Mary has simply disappeared without a trace in the wake of the fire.

The Babs Switch fire led to stricter building codes in Oklahoma, especially for schools. It was also one of the catalysts for modern fire precautions against inward opening doors, open flames, locked screens over windows, and a lack of running water near public buildings. Those who died that night probably saved the lives of future generations of Oklahoma schoolchildren. As it happened, there was a strange twist to the Babs Switch story in 1957.

A California woman named Grace Reynolds came forward and claimed that she was actually Mary Eddins, the little girl presumed killed in the 1924 fire. Mary had been a toddler at the time, and her body was never found. Reynolds' story was that she had been handed out the window by her real mother into the arms of a childless couple who assumed that none of her relatives survived the fire and informally adopted her and raised her as their own.

Reynolds became a minor celebrity, reuniting on the air with the Eddins family on Art Linkletter's House Party television show, and later wrote a book about her experiences entitled " Mary, Child of Tragedy: The Story of the Lost Child of the 1924 Babs Switch Fire." Sadly, though, the whole thing was a hoax. No one knows why Grace Reynolds believed or claimed to believe that she was Mary Eddins.

It's possible that she did believe that she was adopted, or that perhaps she learned of the fire and saw a way to get attention by claiming to be the missing little girl. Her motives remain a mystery. In any case, a local newspaper editor uncovered the hoax and informed Mary Eddins' father about what he had discovered. Mary's father asked that the editor not publish his findings, as he believed that his wife could not endure losing her child for a second time.

The editor respected his wishes, and his findings were not revealed until 1999. Even this sad footnote to the fire was not the end of the story. In 1925, a new school was built at the site, but closed in 1943 when the Bab Switch district was absorbed by the nearby Hobart School District. A stone monument was placed at the scene, bearing a short description of the fire and a list of the dead.

the dead that some say do not rest in peace. But it's not the site of the school where ghosts of the past are reportedly restless. The bodies that were taken from the site were brought to Hobart and placed in a temporary morgue, which is now the fire station and the short grass playhouse. It is rumored that the ghost of a little boy has been seen throughout the building, running around the fire truck bays and scampering down hallways. There's also the ghost of a little girl who has been seen on the stage of the playhouse.

Who these spectral children may be is unknown. Half of the dead from the fire were children, and none of them were recognizable. They had to be identified by jewelry, dentures, and anything that might be unique to a person. Two little brothers were identified by a toy gun found lying next to one boy, and the belt buckle of the other. The identities of the boy and girl who remain at the place where their bodies were taken after the fire remain a mystery.

but we can only hope that they have found a little peace since their terrible deaths. By the mid-1800s, the American Christmas tradition included much of the same customs and festivities as it does today, including tree decorating, gift giving, Santa Claus, greeting cards, stockings by the fire, church activities, and family-oriented days of feasting and fun.

But for those in the Old West, far away from the more civilized life of the East, pioneers, cowboys, explorers, and mountain men usually celebrated Christmas with homemade gifts and humble fare. Christmas for many in the Old West was a difficult time. For those on the prairies, they were often barraged with terrible blizzards and savage December winds.

For mountain men, forced away from their mining activities long before Christmas in fear of the blinding winter storms and freezing cold, the holidays were often meager. But to these strong pioneers, Christmas would not be forgotten, be it ever so humble.

Determined to bring the spirit of Christmas alive on the American frontier, soldiers could be heard caroling at their remote outposts. The smell of venison roasting over an open hearth wafted upon the winds of the open prairie, and these hardy pioneers looked forward to the chance to forget their hard, everyday lives to focus on the holiday. Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote of the preparations for Christmas on the Kansas prairie,

Ma was busy all day long, cooking good things for Christmas. She baked salt raisin bread and Injun bread and Swedish crackers and a huge pan of baked beans with salt pork and molasses. She baked vinegar pies and dried apple pies and filled a big jar with cookies, and she let Laura and Mary lick the cake spoon.

That very Christmas, Laura Ingalls was delighted to find a shiny new tin cup, a peppermint candy, a heart-shaped cake, and a brand new penny in her stocking. For in those days, these four small gifts in her stocking were a wealth of gifts to the young girl.

Though perhaps modest, these hardy pioneers made every attempt to decorate their homes for the holidays with whatever natural materials looked attractive at the bleakest time of the year, such as evergreens, pine cones, holly, nuts, and berries. For some, there might even be a Christmas tree, gaily decorated with bits of ribbon, yarn, berries, popcorn or paper strings, and homemade decorations. Some of these homemade decorations were often figures or dolls made of straw or yarn,

Cookie dough ornaments and gingerbread men were also popular. In other places, wood was simply too scarce to waste on a tree, if one could be found at all. Other pioneer homes were simply too small to make room for a tree. At the very least, almost every home would make the holiday a time of feasting, bringing out preserved fruits and vegetables, fresh game if possible, and for those who could afford it, maybe even beef or ham.

Many women began to bake for the holiday weeks ahead of time, leaving the plum pudding to age in the pot until Christmas dinner. Many of the homemade gifts, including corn husk dolls, sachets, carved wooden toys, pillows, footstools, and embroidered hankies, might have had the family members working on them for months ahead of Christmas. Others knitted scarves, hats, mitts, and socks.

If the family had had a good year, the children might find candies, small gifts, cookies, and fruit in their stockings. Christmas Eve would generally find most families singing carols around the Christmas tree or fireplace. On Christmas Day, most would attend church, return home for the traditional Christmas meal, and spend the day visiting with friends and neighbors.

Then, as it is today, Christmas would also find many a mountain man, explorer, or lone cowboy spending a solitary evening without the benefit of festivities. The more things change, some things, inevitably, remain the same. Coming up on Weird Darkness: At a Christmas party, the revelers heard a horrifying scream from outside. They rushed out to hear the screams were coming from the sky, at least above the rooftops, but how could that be?

It was then that they learned Oliver Lurch had disappeared, never to be seen again. Plus, earlier this month I shared some true reports of people seeing Kris Kringle, or what appeared to be Kris Kringle, in real life. But there are many more of those strange sightings still to share. These stories and more are still to come.

It was Christmas Eve, December 24, 1890, and the Christmas festivities were in full swing at the farm of Tom Lurch in South Bend, Indiana. Friends had come to participate in the annual celebration. Even the local Methodist minister, Rev. Samuel Malaleu, had come for the evening. Outside, the snowfall had stopped and the clouds had drifted away, leaving a beautiful landscape of fresh white snow lit by a bright moon.

Lurch's sons, 20-year-old Oliver and 23-year-old Jim, were each paying attention to a young lady. Oliver was singing songs with his girl, Lillian Hirsch, who was the daughter of a Chicago attorney who was also in attendance at the party. Around 10 p.m., Oliver's mother asked him to fetch some more drinking water from the well, and, after throwing on a good coat, he took two buckets and headed outside to fetch the water as the festivities continued.

About five minutes later, the mood of the event was shattered when Oliver started screaming. Tom Lurch and a host of the partygoers ran outside to help Oliver, only to discover they could hear his cries coming from somewhere in the night sky above them. "Help! Help! It's got me!" The yelps and screams from Oliver seemed to be moving around above them, sometimes closer, sometimes farther, but no one could see him in the moonlit sky.

Soon, the cries stopped altogether, and the lurches feared the worst. Neighbors were called in, and the entire farm was searched from the top of every roof to the bottom of the well to the end of every field. It was during this search, around 10 p.m., that Oliver's voice pleaded for help again from above, one more time, to the horror of the eight or nine people standing in the yard of the house who heard it. Then, Oliver was heard from no more.

The search turned up no signs of the missing young man, but it did reveal another strange detail. Oliver's footprints in the snow stopped just 225 feet from the house, only about halfway to the well. Where the trail ended, one of the two buckets was found. There was no sign of a struggle or of Oliver turning back, just his normal footprints stopping in the middle of an open space with no place for a person to go.

but gone he was. The search continued all night and well into Christmas Day, but no further evidence could be found. There was simply no sign of where Oliver Lurch or his missing bucket could have gone. He was never heard or seen again. The strange details of the case are noted in the police records of South Bend, Indiana, in the United States, and the sheer number of witnesses and the high credibility of many of them make the strange event one hard to ignore.

But what could have happened to Oliver Lurch? He was too big for an eagle or other known bird to carry, and no balloons were flying that night. Some people suggested that maybe he was killed by another party guest who was jealous of the attention he was getting from Lillian Hirsch, who then used ventriloquism to project a voice into the sky. But even if such a strange explanation was to be considered, how was a body not found in the two-day search to the farm?

The only other clue might be in a disagreement among the witnesses of the event. While most agreed that Oliver had cried "It's got me!" a small number of people reported that he had screamed "They've got me!" But who? Where did Oliver Lurch go? Did you notice a major inconsistency in the story I just told? The fact that Oliver is sent to get water at 10pm, but that 10pm is also the last time Oliver's voice was heard overhead?

Believe it or not, that's exactly how the story was reported by Josef Rosenberger in his article called "What Happened to Oliver Lerch?" published in the September 1950 issue of the American publication Fate magazine. Most modern versions of this particular tale stem from Rosenberg's 1950 article, but also carefully trim out that timing error, which is one reason that I present his version of this story.

Rosenberg didn't list his source for the story in his Fate magazine article, so for a long time I thought that he was the first person to present the tale. But it turned out it appeared much earlier, in a 1906 newspaper article from which Rosenberg likely picked the tale up.

This earlier article, imaginatively entitled "Stories of Strange Disappearances," appeared in the Honolulu Star Advertiser for November 4, 1906, and details out several accounts, and the last of these accounts is that of Oliver Lurch's strange fate. The 1906 version of the story is essentially the same as Rosenberger later presented, with a few differences.

It's clear that Rosenberger added many details to the account, creating a "brother" for Oliver and giving the two of them sweethearts at the party, for example, which expanded the 1906 version from about one newspaper column's worth to the four-page-long version that Rosenberger printed in Fate magazine. The only real detailed difference worth mentioning, though, is that the 1906 version of the story sets the year for this event happening in 1889, rather than 1890, as Rosenberger claims.

Not that the differences matter too much in this case. And here's why. The facts in the Oliver Lurch account have been checked by previous researchers. Say thanks to Joe Nickel on that one. And it's well established that no Tom Lurch or Lurch Farm existed in South Bend. And a report of this incident most certainly was never recorded in the police records of the town. The main reason no record exists of the incident is that Oliver Lurch's disappearance never actually happened.

And, in fact, it's simply a new version of an older and fictional story of a similar disappearance. Said older story, "Charles Ashmore's Trail," was written and published in 1888 by the notorious American author Ambrose Bierce. Bierce's tale told the supposedly true story of a 16-year-old Charles Ashmore who was sent to fetch water from the well by his family one snowy November night in 1878, only to scream and disappear.

Upon investigation, Charles' footprints in the snow were found to lead about halfway to the well and then end, with no signs of struggle or clue where he went. Days later, the boy's mother walked past the spot his trail ended and heard his voice calling as if from some great distance. This effect continued sporadically for some months before fading away forever.

The 1906 account simply took the premise of Ambrose Bierce's short story, set it in a different time and place, and added false credible witnesses — a reverend and a lawyer — along with lots of unnecessary details to make it sound more real. Two key differences appeared in the 1906 version of the tale, though. First, that Oliver Lurch's pleas for help were heard immediately after his disappearance by many people and that they came from somewhere up in the night sky.

Second, the choice to set the events as happening on Christmas Eve, which therefore combined a joyous family holiday with a tragic event. That's good drama, that is. Both of these new details appeared later on in two more variations of Bierce's Disappearance in the Snow story, the next being a version created by popular 1950s radio personality Frank Edwards.

So, for the simple reason that the events didn't actually happen and that the account itself is based on another false story, I'm going to have to mark this account as fiction. But still fascinating, and proper for our Christmas creeps. You've heard the stories: tales whispered under full moonlight of an old jolly man in a bright red suit who visits houses on Christmas Eve to deliver presents to those deemed worthy throughout the year. They call him Santa Claus.

Most would assume Santa is nothing more than a fairy tale, an ideal to live up to, as the parents out there might say. But would you be surprised to hear that over the years many people have reported actually witnessing Santa Claus in their homes or flying overhead with his reindeer in the sky? Many of the witnesses will tell you that they're embarrassed to share such stories. They might be adults now, but their memories of Kris Kringle sightings are stronger than ever, and they swear that they're real.

For some time, Stephen Wagner of LiveAbout.com has been collecting unusual reports of Santa Claus sightings. Some date back to the 60s and 70s, some to the more recent years, but each account seems as genuine as any report of a UFO or other paranormal phenomenon.

It must have been around 7:30 p.m., on a clear night when we suddenly heard bells in the distance getting closer real fast. As we both looked up, there was the reindeer, the sleigh, and Santa flying very fast and low over my house. One witness described Santa almost in Bigfoot terms: a large man, possibly seven or eight feet tall, rustling under his family's Christmas tree before vanishing out of sight.

Another paints Santa as "eerie," a supernatural entity that left her with a feeling of terror, like something out of a strange dream. Sightings of Santa's reindeer and sleigh bring to mind Newfork and Mufon submissions of unidentified flying objects. A girl named Jade recalls a bright red light beaming down into her bedroom window and then seeing a small object in the sky followed by the sound of bells. Then the object disappeared and the sky fell silent.

All of a sudden, I saw a red light beaming down into my window. It was so bright, and somehow I knew it was him." These strange accounts of Santa sightings continue to trickle in. In 2016, one man shared his own personal tale of something that happened to him in 1990 when he was only seven years old. He was staying at his grandparents' house, excited for Christmas morning, of course, and yet in the middle of the night, he was awoken in bed by the light sound of bells and something peculiar entering the room.

"Now the room is very dark at the time," he says, "so I can only make out the unmistakable shape of Santa out of the corner of my eyes." The dark figure moved to the side of the bed and appeared to pat his grandfather with his big red Santa glove, as strange as that might sound. And then the figure "gestured" slightly, and the witness fell asleep until morning. Another witness recalls a Christmas Eve many years ago when he woke up at 2:30 in the morning to use the restroom. And what to his wondering eyes should appear

Santa Claus, sitting in a recliner, eating a plate of cookies. I silently tiptoed down the stairs and peeked my head out around the corner to look into the living room. Santa Claus was sitting on our recliner, eating one of the cookies we left for him and looking at our tree. All the lights were on in the room. The guy was way too big to be my father. He decided to make a run for the restroom, avoiding eye contact with Father Christmas, but when he returned, Santa was gone and all the lights were out.

Yet another strange encounter leads one to wonder if perhaps Santa Claus may not be all that he appears to be. According to one man, to this day his daughter claims that when she was seven she saw Santa. But something wasn't quite right. "She told me she was surprised to see him," he wrote, "and that she had the feeling the entire time that she was looking at him that she was seeing something she shouldn't be seeing."

Is it possible that in cases like this Santa Claus is a paranormal entity that simply takes the form of something expected? What would be the implications of that? Maybe we ought to wonder exactly what we're inadvertently inviting into our homes with this Santa Claus tale. The B.E.K.'s, black-eyed kids, show up at your door and ask for permission to enter. With Santa Claus, we've already given him permission to enter.

Something also interesting, many accounts involve people who saw Santa Claus at the very specific age of seven. That's not even the most noteworthy pattern. Many Santa Claus encounters, including several of those shared by Stephen Wagner, involve hearing sleigh bells. This happens either during a visual sighting of a sleigh like UFO or simply with the mysterious sound of bells alone. One witness tells of an incident during the holidays many years ago in New Mexico.

His family was leaving a movie theater, and during the drive home they spotted a bright red light in the sky. "I'm a very bad judge of distance," he wrote, "so I couldn't tell you how high up it was, but it was definitely too low to be in the aircraft. Also, there was no sound coming from the light. I couldn't see too well behind the red light except for the outline of a sleigh, but it was what happened next that sealed the deal. One of them rolled down a window and they heard the tell-tale sound of sleigh bells."

Shortly after getting my parents' attention, someone opens up their window to get a better view instead of the foggy window. We actually heard bells, like sleigh bells. The sighting lasted several minutes before the unidentified object and the sound of bells faded away. Others have reported hearing sleigh bells in the days leading up to Christmas, sometimes as early as October.

I woke up and looked up at the sky. I think it was a full moon. I heard the bells and saw something flying over the moon. I know it sounds like a fairy tale, but I remember it so accurately." Misty G told her story: "When I was nine years old, I could not get to sleep on Christmas Eve because I was excited about presents, and I was wondering if my parents had anything to do with the gifts that I'd received from Santa the year before. We lived in Texas back then. That night it was hot because the heater was on.

I got thirsty. I got out of bed and cracked open my door to make sure no one was out in the living room so I could get something to drink without being seen. I also wanted to spy. When I opened the door, I saw someone bent over, and then he stood up. It was Santa Claus, dressed in the red and white getup. Strangely, I could see the Christmas lights from the tree shining through him.

He was taking the stockings down off the mantel and placing them on the coffee table. When he started to turn around to put the next stocking on the table, I closed the door and jumped into bed. The next morning I woke up and told my sister what I had seen. I told her where he had put the stockings. When we went into the living room, the stockings were where I said he had put them. We both turned and looked at each other and froze for a moment. From then on, I have told everyone that I believe in Santa." Redditor SkittySkat wrote,

This happened near Seattle, Washington on Christmas Eve 1957 or 1958. My mom was at the kitchen window when she yelled for my sister and me, ages around 5 and 7, to come look. There was Santa and an elf carrying a big brown bag walking down the middle of the street. My dad went running out the door to see if Santa would come over and say Merry Christmas to us kids, but Santa, the elf, and the big brown bag had vanished. Another story, this one from Carrie K.

It was Christmas Eve, 1961. We were living in Boardman, Ohio. My bedroom was at the end of the house. I had gone to sleep. I don't know what time it was, but I know it was very late when I suddenly woke up. I was staring at my bedroom door, which was catty-corner from my bed. As the door slowly opened, I pretended to close my eyes because I didn't want my mother or father to catch me up in the middle of the night. There was a nightlight in the hallway and one behind the dresser in my room, so there was some light.

I was totally astonished, however, by who it was that opened the bedroom door. I found myself looking at a man dressed in a red suit. He had white trim around his waist like fur, a long white beard, and was wearing a Santa hat. He had red pants and black boots. If I close my eyes, I can still see Santa standing in my door. It made such an impression on me. He stood there and looked at me for a few seconds, then closed the door.

I pulled the blankets over my head. I was so scared. Finally, I looked out, but no one was there. The next day, I asked my mother if she or my father had been out of bed the previous night. My mother said no. In fact, my sister was only four months old, and my mother told me that she'd slept the night for the first time since my sister was born. Neither of my parents had gotten up. Both of them were tired, and they both slept. So I don't know who or what looked in my bedroom that night.

"When I told my mother that I had seen Santa, she got really mad at me and told me that no I had not. But I know what I saw. It was Santa Claus. I swear this story did happen and I know I wasn't dreaming." From Redditor Scarlet Dragon: "I had an unusual visitor on Christmas Day 2008. I'm pretty sure it wasn't Santa Claus passing by my house in Bloomington, Indiana. The day started in typical fashion with the opening of gifts around the Christmas tree.

I served an early Christmas dinner for family and friends, and everybody departed by 5:00 p.m. except my sister and brother-in-law who live with me. They were asleep in a bedroom at the end of the hall, but their door was open. I went into my bedroom with my dog Toby and shut the door securely. Toby curled up at the foot of my bed to sleep like he always does. It was chilly, so I pulled the blankets and comforter up around my head and curled up to nap for about an hour. I was just dozing off when I heard the latch on my bedroom door open.

I waited several seconds for my sister or brother-in-law to say whatever they'd come to say, but there was no other sound. It was almost 7pm, so my bedroom was pitch black. I'd left the lights on in the kitchen and the bathroom, and there were lots of Christmas lights in the living room, so the hallway would have been well lit. I would be able to see whoever was at the door just by lifting my head.

I pushed the blankets down and lifted my head from the pillow, but just as I would have been able to see who was in the doorway, an extremely bright light hit me right in the face. I shielded my eyes and yelled, "Turn out that effing light! You're blinding me!" The light immediately disappeared, and I heard the bedroom door latch close. My bedside light is a touch lamp, so I tapped it on and looked around the bedroom. There was no one there except me and Toby. Toby jumped off the bed and went to the door without showing any signs of alarm.

At first, I wasn't frightened because Toby is a Dutch Shepherd and was trained to be an excellent watchdog. Since Toby was already up, I decided to let him go outside and see what Sis or her husband needed. When I went into the hallway, I could see that both of them were still in bed. I took Toby to the living room to let him outside, and there was nobody there either.

Ordinarily, I'm not a skittish person and strange noises or lights wouldn't alarm me, but this situation was just too eerie and the light had made my skin crawl. Let me add that the latch on my bedroom door is broken in such a way that the inside door handle must be jiggled for the latch to pop out and engage. It makes a very distinctive sound that I'm used to listening for because if it doesn't latch, the door swings open.

I'm absolutely positive that the door was latched closed when I got into bed, just as I am certain that it was the door latch I heard during the incident. When I left the bedroom, the door was latched closed again. I couldn't understand how my sister or brother-in-law could have come into my room and then returned to their own bed and crawled under the covers in the few seconds it took me to reach the hallway.

but I figured it had to be one of them, since Toby always barks and growls at everybody and everything that he doesn't immediately recognize. When my brother-in-law got up to get ready for work that night, I asked him what he'd wanted earlier in the evening when he opened my door. He looked puzzled and said, "'I never got up, and I certainly never opened your door. I slept soundly the whole time I was in bed.' "'Okay,' so I asked Sis, "'Did you want something earlier this evening when you opened my door?'

She also looked puzzled and told me, "I dozed off and on, but I never got out of bed, and I never saw or heard anything in the hallway." She leaves their bedroom door open at all times, and she faces the hallway so she can see if anyone is coming or going in the house. So who was my special Christmas visitor? And how did they get in and out so quickly? Like most people, the thought of loved ones are always close at hand during the holiday season.

When I first went to lie down, I was thinking how happy I was that my small family had enjoyed a pleasant Christmas, but that it would have been so much better if my mother and my brother had still been alive to share it with us. I like to think that it was my brother's spirit, stopping by to say, "Merry Christmas! I still think of you too." I haven't been able to debunk this strange event or find any kind of rational explanation.

I'm half afraid that my heart stopped during my sleep and the light I saw was the bright light people report after near-death experiences. Leave it to me to see the stairway to heaven and ruin my chance at eternal paradise by saying "turn out that effin' light." I've made a mental note that if I ever see another bright light, to clean up my language. Just in case. Do these unusual tales mean that Santa Claus actually exists?

Perhaps not. But I'm always reminded of what Art Bell once said, something along the lines of, "These people know what they saw. It's up to you whether or not to believe them." We also have the more esoteric possibility that, in some cases, Santa Claus' encounters may involve some kind of tulpa or manifestation of thought or global consciousness.

Or perhaps certain paranormal phenomena are given form by our own expectations, and during this time of the year around a Christmas tree, that formless entity might begin to take shape into something familiar. As they say, the truth is out there. When Weird Darkness returns, I'll tell you how you can celebrate Christmas like a Viking. In fact, you might already be doing it and not even know it! Up next...

Christmas time, Noel, Nativity, Yuletide. Even the many different words that we use to describe the Christian holiday that celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ reflects how this festival was born of a wide array of cultures. For the Vikings, Germanic tribes, and other peoples of pre-Christian Europe, this celebration was actually meant to honor the winter solstice. Hard to celebrate Christmas before Christ was born.

Known as Yule, the celebration commemorated the events of the waning year and honored the gods with a festival of song, food, drink, and sacrifice. But with the steady spread of Christianity throughout Europe, many pagan beliefs and celebrations, including Yule, were stamped out. Today, hints of these ancient faiths and rituals of the Vikings can be found in some of the most popular Christmas traditions.

This is the story of Yule, the Viking winter festival that helped create the modern Christmas celebration. The earliest mention of Yule is found in the wonk of a chronicler and prolific historian called Bede, an English monk who was instrumental in the spread of Catholic Christianity in northern England.

Writing in 725 AD, Bede described the holiday of pagan Britons, Anglo-Saxons, Vikings, and other Germanic groups, noting that the old pagan calendar combined the Roman months of December and January into a single period called Guli. He wrote, "...the months of Guli derive their name from the day when the sun turns back and begins to increase."

In other words, this double month was built around the winter solstice, the time of year when daylight, which decreases steadily during the winter, starts to increase again. To the ancient Vikings and other Germanic peoples, many of whom lived in the far northern reaches of Europe where the absence of the winter sun is felt strongest, the return of long sunny days was considered a rebirth and was celebrated in the festival of Jól or Jól,

The origins of these words are murky, but generations of etymologists believe that they are the basis for the modern word jolly in English. The whole season, called Yuletide, was among the most important holidays in pagan Europe. From modern-day Estonia to the north of England, Yule was the highlight of the deep midwinter, a welcome respite from the darkness and the biting cold.

For centuries, the only hint at the existence of Yule was in the word itself, suggesting a time of rejoicing and merriment at the darkest point of the year. However, during a revival of interest in all things Viking in the 19th century, the lost traditions of the holiday were rediscovered, and were apparently not so lost after all. Indeed, many of the Viking's Yuletide traditions are still practiced in some form today on Christmas.

The rites, ceremonies, and festivities of Yule were rife with references to important gods of the Old Norse and Germanic pantheons, most significantly Odin, one of whose name was Jolnar, which indicated a connection to the holiday of Jól, or Yule. The ancient Vikings and Goths, the period prior to Yule, was a time of heightened supernatural activity,

Undead creatures called Draugr wandered the earth, magic was more potent, and Odin himself led a ghostly wild hunt across the night sky. To appease restless spirits and gods alike, the Vikings held ceremonies that included sacrifices of various plants, animals, and beverages. The ancient Europeans revered trees in particular, and bonfires were lit to ward off the darkness and celebrate the return of the sun.

This particular ritual gradually evolved into the Yule Log, a specially selected tree that was burned to ensure warmth throughout the longest night of the year. Similarly, evergreen trees were mounted in the corners of homes and longhouses and were decorated with pieces of food, runes, statues, and strips of cloth. These trees are still erected in the living rooms of modern observers of Christmas.

However, the most disturbing and controversial pagan Yule rituals may have been the sacrifice of animals and humans. It's unclear whether human sacrifice really did occur on Yuletide or if this was merely a rumor started by Christians in order to discredit the old religions, but numerous accounts describe the killing of young men in order to atone for the misdeeds of humans on Earth.

The Yule festivities may have begun with Modra Night, or Mother's Night, during which a boar called Aesona Goltr was sacrificed to the god of virility Freyr and his twin sister Freyja, the goddess of fertility. Before eating the meat, Viking chieftains and warriors would lay their hands on the boar's bristles and swear drunken oaths to perform deeds ranging from the ridiculous to the heroic to the outright barbaric.

In the epic Old English poem "Baywolf," for example, the hero swore to kill the dragon Grendel in a ceremony called "Heidstranging," while the noble Harald Fairhair swore not to cut his hair until he united Norway into a single kingdom under his leadership. Throughout the three-to-twelve-day celebration of Yule, bundles of grain were shaped into so-called "Yule goats," and young men would "wassle" or dress in costumes and dance from house to house singing in exchange for drinks and food.

As Christian missionaries spread into the pagan heartlands of northern Europe, they encountered these rituals and found themselves presented with a unique challenge. For Christians, the worship of multiple gods was intolerable. Yet the prospect of forcing proud and notoriously violent Vikings and Germanic tribes to reject their beliefs must have been just as unappetizing.

Instead, the missionaries fell back on a time-tested Christian compromise called Interpretatio Christiana, or Christian Interpretation. By learning the myths and religious beliefs of the Norsemen, they could identify parallels within Catholicism and link these two belief systems together, making conversion more palatable to those reluctant to give up their centuries-old practices.

One such tactic was to change the actual date of the birth of Jesus, which historians believe was likely in springtime, to coincide with the pagans' raucous winter celebrations. As such, the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ in December was possibly directly inspired by pagan calendars. But while missionaries like Bede were hard at work melding paganism with the Bible, the real work of conversion was political.

Perhaps the most important figure in binding Yule to Christmas was the Norwegian king Haakon the Good, who attempted to convert the whole of Norway to Christianity during the 10th century AD. Haakon had spent his childhood in England and returned to Norway as a full-fledged Christian intent on spreading his faith. He realized quickly, however, that the conservative chieftains of his kingdom were resistant to the new religion, and so he struck a compromise.

According to the saga Heimskringla, Heikin decreed that Yule would be celebrated not on Midwinter Eve but on the 25th of December, coinciding with Christmas. Under this new law, Norwegian Vikings were required to celebrate either holiday with a supply of ale or else pay substantial fines.

While Haakon was killed in battle, a brief pagan revival did take place. But the effects of his law held. From then on, Yule and Christmas became synonymous throughout Scandinavia, and their traditions were blended together. Today, what remains of Yuletide celebrations is the Yule log or Christmas tree, the Christmas ham or Yule boar, and the word Yule itself.

Many of these traditions were strongest in the former Viking homelands of Sweden, Norway, Iceland, and Denmark, where Yule goats and wassailing carried on long after the disappearance of the old gods. One god who may not have disappeared, however, was Odin. Instead, some historians posit that the old white-bearded god on horseback or seated in a cart drawn by a reindeer was transformed into Santa Claus, otherwise known as Father Christmas or Saint Nicholas.

Immigrants from Germany and Scandinavia brought their version of Santa Claus, as well as many of their best-loved Yuletide traditions with them to the Americas and other parts of the world during the 18th and 19th centuries. But with the decline of state-enforced Christianity and a renewed interest in pre-modern Europe during the same period, the pagan celebration of Yule was revived.

As neo-pagan religions like Levian Satanists, Norse Revivalists, and Wiccans arose in Europe and North America, a new form of Yule was born. These groups are said to be drawn to the holiday for its celebration of nature, the rhythms and patterns of the seasons and the stars, and its unfathomably ancient roots.

Though scholars admit that the lack of written records and the evolution of cultures through time means that the details of this unique holiday might be lost to history, nonetheless note how without them the modern Christmas might not exist. Indeed, no matter how exactly the Vikings celebrated their pre-Christian Christmas, the inheritance of their traditions makes the modern holiday all the richer and more fascinating. Nothing says "Christmas" like a poisonous weed

Well, you explain mistletoe. We'll look at why we are supposed to kiss under this deadly plant during the holidays when weird darkness returns. Ever wonder what the meaning is behind the kiss under the mistletoe that takes place at holiday gatherings? It's another of the pagan traditions that managed to survive the purge that was done by church authorities when they were wiping out the old ways.

Their tradition is still around, but most people don't know the story behind it. ***Now you will. Norse legend tells the story of Baldur, son of Odin and half-brother of Thor, who was a favorite among the gods. When he began having nightmares about his own death, his mother, Frigg, asked that the numerous other gods watch out for Baldur and keep him safe.

The Norse gods were not immortal — they could be killed, just like men. But Loki, the trickster god, discovered that Frigg had forgotten to ask mistletoe, a poisonous plant, to keep Baldur safe. So when a branch of mistletoe was thrown at the handsome, beloved Baldur, he immediately died.

Saddened by her loss, Frigg declared that mistletoe would never be overlooked again, and instead of spreading sorrow, those who passed under it should kiss to spread joy and love. Since that time, mistletoe has been a joyous part of holiday celebrations, even though its origin is one of death and sorrow. Thanks for listening!

If you like the show, please share it with someone you know who loves the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters, or unsolved mysteries like you do. You can email me anytime with your questions or comments at Darren at WeirdDarkness.com. Darren is D-A-R-R-E-N. And you can find the show on Facebook and Twitter, including the show's Weirdos Facebook group, on the Contact social page at WeirdDarkness.com.

Also on the website you can find free audiobooks that I've narrated, watch old horror movies with horror hosts at all times of the day for free, sign up for the newsletter to win free prizes, grab your Weird Darkness and Weirdo merchandise. Plus, if you have a true paranormal or creepy tale to tell, you can click on "Tell Your Story." All stories in Weird Darkness are purported to be true unless stated otherwise, and you can find source links or links to the authors in the show notes.

The Lost Tradition of Christmas Ghost Stories is from Conspiracy Journal, Sally O'Reilly for Ancient Pages, YourGhostStories.com, and LiveAbout.com. The Christmas Disappearance of Oliver Lurch is from AnomalyInfo.com. How to Celebrate Christmas Like a Viking is by Morgan Dunn for all that's interesting. More Real Santa Sightings is from Rob Schwartz for Stranger Dimensions. Ghosts of the Babs Switch School Christmas Fire and A Kiss Under the Mistletoe were both written by Troy Taylor.

Beware the Bodic at Christmas is from Ellen Lloyd for Ancient Pages. And Christmas in the Old West is by Kathy Weiser for Legends of America. Again, you can find links to all of these in the show notes. Weird Darkness is a production and trademark of Marlar House Productions. Copyright Weird Darkness. And now that we're coming out of the dark, I'll leave you with a little light. Acts 4, verse 12...

"Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved." And a final thought: What if Christmasy thought doesn't come from a store? What if Christmas, perhaps, means a bit more? The Grinch. Dr. Seuss. I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness.