Begeredubu is the mythical being of Waboda, a figure who is both man and spirit. He first appears in stories set in another place, but during a great flood he was carried away by a powerful torrent and brought to Waboda, where he remained.
At first, Begeredubu lived inside a large tree called gagoro. The tree was closely bound to his existence, and in time Begeredubu himself came to be identified with it. When the gagoro tree eventually fell, he built a house for himself and continued to dwell there, maintaining his presence in the area.
Begeredubu is remembered as a powerful and unusual being, marked by physical traits that set him apart from ordinary men. Through his arrival by flood, his dwelling in the gagoro tree, and his continued presence after its fall, he became firmly rooted in the land and memory of Waboda, existing at the boundary between the human world and the realm of spirits.
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Sources
Landtman, G. (1970). The Kiwai Papuans of British New Guinea: A nature-born instance of Rousseau’s ideal community.
On Paho Island there is a hollow place beneath the ground that answers when people stamp upon it. The earth itself gives back a deep echo, and for this reason the place is known as Basai’s drum. Nearby lies a stone called Basai’s stone, linked to the beeswax once fixed to drum skins to strengthen and purify their sound.
Some say that Basai is the name of the being who inhabits this place beneath the earth. Others tell that the spirit there is a woman named Kaibani, who lives beneath the stone. In earlier times, Kaibani was said to appear at the stone, seated and patiently working on a belt, her hands moving steadily as she wove.
The place is not only hers. The spirits of the dead pass by it on their journey to Adiri, and as they do, they dance around the stone. They beat Basai’s drum by leaping upon the hollow ground, causing it to resound beneath their feet.
In the past, whenever the Mawata people traveled to Paho Island to gather crabs and fish, they performed ritual dances at this sacred spot. The sound of the drum was taken as an omen. If the echo rang out clear and strong, the people believed their journey would be free of trouble. If the sound was dull or broken, hardship and difficulty were expected.
A verse from an old song preserves the memory of Kaibani and her work:
“Mother of Paho made the belt; Kaibani’s belt was no good.”
Thus the drum, the stone, and the woman beneath the earth remain bound together—listening, answering, and foretelling the fate of those who pass through the island.
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Sources
Landtman, G. (1970). The Kiwai Papuans of British New Guinea: A nature-born instance of Rousseau’s ideal community.
The Obouibi are mysterious beings who belong to the water. They live in the sea and travel far up the rivers, moving freely between saltwater and freshwater. Though they are spirits, they appear largely human in form. Both male and female Obouibi exist, and they resemble ordinary people, except that the females wear skirts made of grass. At times, an Obouibi may be seen swimming like a frog, its short limbs and stout body cutting through the water.
The language spoken by the Obouibi is said to be the same as that of humans, but their voices are feared. Those afflicted with sores or sickness are believed to be under their influence. They are masters of crocodiles and other water animals, and when a crocodile kills someone unexpectedly, people say it is the work of the Obouibi. At night, a strange wailing may be heard from the water—this is said to be their cry.
Some Obouibi live near villages such as Kimusu. They kill and eat dugong, leaving behind piles of bones. Some of these bones are left in the water, some are taken fresh, and others are arranged in circles, much like the way humans arrange the skulls of enemies they have captured. If a canoe is lost at sea, the people believe the occupants have been taken by the Obouibi and will never return. Sometimes, however, a person may escape. It is said that one man passed an Obouibi and was carried alive to their dwelling beneath the sea, where he remained for several days.
There is a story of a handsome Puruma boy who was visited at night by a beautiful Obouibi girl while he slept in his canoe. He married her and kept her hidden from the people. She bore him a child, and for a time lived among humans. But one day, when the husband was absent, she overheard people speaking badly of her. That night, she took her child and returned to the water, vanishing back into her own world.
It is also said that male Obouibi sometimes rise from the sea and take human women with them, carrying them away into the depths.
The Obouibi are known to give medicines and knowledge to certain people through dreams. These gifts are used in harpooning and gardening. Along with other related beings, they are closely associated with dugong hunting. Harpooners appeal to them for success and guidance, and in earlier times offerings of dugong bones were made to gain their favor.
Thus, the Obouibi remain beings of both danger and knowledge—powerful water spirits who can kill, heal, abduct, or instruct, and whose presence is felt wherever rivers meet the sea.
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Sources
Landtman, G. (1970). The Kiwai Papuans of British New Guinea: A nature-born instance of Rousseau’s ideal community.
Kutys is a spirit that dwells near water, feared by people and animals alike. His name means “the one who seizes,” and when he acts, it is said that he truly grabs hold of his victims.
Kutys lives at springs, at the sources of rivers and streams, and in ravines where water once flowed. Even when a ravine dries in summer, Kutys may still remain there, unseen. Wherever he lives, sickness and terror follow. When he becomes angry, he punishes people and livestock first with sudden, unexplainable fear, and then with illness. Boils, scabs, erysipelas, abscesses, and wasting pains appear without warning. Sometimes Kutys inspires fear by wild, inhuman cries, and sometimes by appearing in dreadful forms, neither fully man nor beast.
Near the village of Omutnitsy, far from the town of Glazov, there is a spring where Kutys is said to live even now. Above the spring lies a marshy ravine covered with tangled growth. Kutys guards a hidden treasure there. On hot summer days, people or horses who approach the upper part of the ravine may be seized. Breath becomes difficult, strength drains away, the stomach tightens inward, fever and trembling begin, and soon the whole body falls into sickness. This suffering can last for days and may end in death unless Kutys is appeased with sacrifice.
Once, men building a bridge over the stream called Yazinets slept beside their work. At midnight they were awakened by a terrible roar. At the head of the stream they saw a gigantic figure advancing toward them, something neither clearly human nor animal. In panic, they fled to the village, leaving their clothes and belongings behind.
To protect themselves, people make offerings to Kutys. Small loaves of bread, egg-filled pies, pancakes, grains of barley tied in cloth, copper coins, or even a live chicken with bound legs are given at springs and streams. Some throw grain mixed with salt, bits of cloth, or small dolls into the water or onto the ground where Kutys dwells. This act of offering is meant to calm him and release those he has seized.
Kutys is closely bound to water itself. Those who curse into water, spit, blow their nose, or behave disrespectfully near springs risk being taken by him. Among the Besermyans, Kutys is believed to be the spirit of those who died unnatural deaths, or of infants who died without being named. Such spirits linger near their burial places and seize anyone who steps upon them.
Thus Kutys remains a presence of sudden fear and sudden illness, a reminder that water is not only life-giving but dangerous, and that unseen hands may still reach up from springs and ravines to seize the careless.
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Sources
Bestiary.us contributors. (n.d.). Kutys. In Bestiary.us — Mythical Creatures of the World, from https://www.bestiary.us/kutys#
In the villages and marshlands of Hungary, people speak of the Lidérc, a restless and many-formed spirit that moves between fire, flesh, and shadow.
On some nights it appears as a shooting star or a wandering flame, streaking low across the sky or flickering over bogs and fields. Wherever it passes, sparks leap and fires may break out, barns and pens igniting without cause. In other places it takes the shape of a fiery rod, a blazing figure, or a marsh light that lures the unwary.
But the Lidérc is most feared for the form it takes among humans.
It seeks the lonely: widows, widowers, abandoned lovers, those whose beloveds are far away or dead. Slipping through the night, it enters their homes and assumes the exact appearance of the person they long for most. It speaks gently, knows their memories, and offers comfort, affection, and desire. Night after night it returns, lying beside its victim, feeding not on blood but on life itself. The victim grows pale and weak, dizzy and thin, until at last they waste away and die, loved to death. When its prey is spent, the Lidérc abandons the body and rises again into the sky as a star, seeking another heart to consume.
Yet the Lidérc is never perfect in its disguise. One of its legs always betrays it: a scaly goose foot, a chicken’s claw, or sometimes a horse’s iron-shod hoof. Those who scatter ashes at their threshold may see the tracks—one human footstep, one monstrous—and know what has crossed their door. Garlic, cords, and household charms can bar its entry, if the danger is recognized in time.
There is another kind of Lidérc as well, one born not from fire but from human greed. If the first egg laid by a black hen is hidden beneath a person’s armpit and warmed there, a strange, featherless creature will hatch. This Lidérc binds itself to its keeper, speaking with intelligence and obeying commands. It brings wealth, steals treasure, and works tirelessly, living on butter and favors. But it is never satisfied. If its master fails to give it constant tasks, it becomes restless and cruel, pestering day and night until it finally destroys the one who raised it.
The only escape is to give the Lidérc an impossible command: to carry water in a sieve, to squeeze through solid wood, to complete a task that cannot be done. Unable to endure failure, the creature will rage, weaken, and finally vanish.
Thus the Lidérc remains a warning whispered in Hungarian folklore: that desire, loneliness, and greed can summon something that looks like love or fortune—but feeds only on ruin.
In Chinese folklore, flowers are not lifeless plants but beings endowed with spirit and awareness. It is said that flowers which survive for a hundred years may awaken consciousness and become flower spirits. After a thousand years of cultivation, such beings may ascend further and become immortals. These spirits are known as Huā Yāo or Huā Jīng when their nature is closer to demons, and Huā Xiān when they attain a purer, immortal state.
Flower spirits often appear in human form, usually as young women of extraordinary beauty whose appearance reflects the flower from which they were born. Their lives are bound to the cycles of nature: blooming, fading, and renewal. Though rooted in the soil, they can walk, speak, love, and suffer like humans, while retaining a deep connection to their original plant form.
One of the most famous accounts appears in “Xiangyu” from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio by Pu Songling of the Qing dynasty. In this story, a peony flower spirit forms a relationship with a scholar surnamed Huang. The spirit is gentle and affectionate, yet vulnerable to the forces of the human world, illness, and spiritual imbalance. Her existence demonstrates both the beauty and fragility of flower spirits, who live between nature and humanity.
Earlier sources trace the idea of flower spirits back to Taiping Guangji, where flowers transforming into conscious beings are recorded as marvels of the natural world. These stories present flower spirits not as monsters, but as manifestations of the living earth itself—natural entities capable of emotion, loyalty, and moral action.
Poetry further reinforces their presence in the cultural imagination. Writers of the Tang, Song, and Ming dynasties frequently invoked flower fairies as unseen guests descending among blossoms, dancing beneath moonlight or moving with the wind through gardens. Their arrival often marked moments when the boundary between the human world and the spirit realm grew thin.
Flower spirits were also associated with imbalance in nature. Historical records sometimes attributed strange winds, unseasonal darkness, or disturbances among flowers to the activity of flower demons, suggesting that when the harmony of earth was disrupted, these spirits manifested visibly.
Across all accounts, flower spirits remain bound to impermanence. If their flower is destroyed, neglected, or uprooted, the spirit weakens or dies. Their stories serve as reminders that beauty, life, and spirit arise from patience and time, and that nature itself is alive, observant, and capable of transformation.
In the mountains of what is now Anguo City in Hebei Province, there was said to exist a being known as the Shanjing, the Mountain Spirit. Ancient Chinese texts describe it as a small humanoid creature, usually between one and four feet tall depending on the source, with only a single leg. Its most striking feature was its foot: the heel faced backward, an unmistakable sign that it was not a natural being.
The Mountain Spirit was said to dwell in mountainous regions and remain hidden during the day, emerging only at night. It was known to steal salt from humans, slipping into storage huts or mountain shelters under cover of darkness. Its diet consisted primarily of crabs and frogs gathered from the mountains and streams. Some accounts describe it carrying crabs in its hands as it approached human dwellings.
When encountered at night, the Mountain Spirit could attack people. However, it was believed that if a person called out the word “Ba,” the creature would lose its ability to harm them. At the same time, the Mountain Spirit was dangerous to provoke. Those who struck or injured it were said to suffer illness afterward, or find their houses consumed by fire.
Classical texts give varying descriptions of its appearance. Some portray it as human-shaped, others as resembling a small child. Several sources note that its body was hairy, its face dark or blackened, and that it laughed when it saw humans. In Daoist writings such as the Baopuzi, it is described as a nocturnal attacker and listed among spirits that could invade human homes.
The Mountain Spirit appears frequently in Chinese poetry and literature, where it is mentioned alongside other supernatural beings such as fox spirits and animal demons. These references describe it as a presence bound to mountains, night, and wild places, a being that moved between the human world and the unseen realm.
Through later transmission into Japan, the Mountain Spirit was depicted in illustrated demon compendiums, notably in Toriyama Sekien’s Konjaku Gazu Zoku Hyakki. There it appears gazing at mountain huts while holding crabs, preserving the older Chinese description of a salt-stealing, crab-eating, one-legged mountain being that emerges after dark and vanishes again before dawn.
Aksharquarnilik is a spirit encountered during shamanic healing rituals, acting as a helping spirit who reveals the hidden causes of illness.
In one account, a woman named Nanoraq, the wife of Måkik, lay gravely ill, suffering pain throughout her body and barely able to stand. She was placed on a bench, and all the people of the village were summoned. The shaman Angutingmarik began a ritual to discover the source of her sickness.
Walking slowly back and forth across the floor, Angutingmarik swung his arms while wearing mittens, breathing heavily and speaking in groans and sighs, his voice shifting in tone. He called upon his helping spirits and addressed Aksharquarnilik directly, asking whether the illness had come from a broken taboo—something eaten improperly, wrongdoing by himself, by his wife, or by the sick woman herself.
The patient answered that the sickness was her own fault. She confessed that she had failed in her duties and that her thoughts and actions had been bad. The shaman continued, describing what he perceived spiritually: something resembling peat, though not peat; something behind the ear like cartilage; something white and gleaming, possibly the edge of a pipe.
At this, the listeners cried out together that the woman had smoked a pipe she was forbidden to smoke. They agreed to forgive the offense and urged that it be ignored. But the shaman declared that this was not the only cause. There were further transgressions responsible for the illness.
Asked again whether the cause lay with him or with the patient, the woman replied that it was entirely her own doing. She said there had been wrongdoing connected to her abdomen, something internal that had brought about the sickness.
Through Aksharquarnilik, the hidden violations and their physical manifestations were revealed, allowing the community to acknowledge the causes of the illness and begin the process of purification and healing.
Source
Rasmussen, K. (1930). Intellectual Culture of the Hudson Bay Eskimos. p. 133.
Angako-di-Ngato are spirits feared in the folklore of the Kalinga people of northern Luzon. They are believed to be the cause of illness, afflicting humans with sickness when they draw near or are offended.
When disease strikes without an obvious cause, it is said that Angako-di-Ngato are responsible. These spirits act invisibly, entering the human body or lingering around people, weakening them and bringing suffering.
In Kalinga belief, illness is not merely physical but the result of contact with these malevolent spirits, whose presence disrupts the balance between humans and the unseen world.
Alvina is a spirit of the air, known to wander endlessly through the sky. When the wind howls and roars, people say, “Listen! Alvina is crying.” Her presence is heard rather than seen, carried on storms and restless gusts that sweep across the land.
According to the legend, Alvina was once a king’s daughter. Against her parents’ wishes, she married the wrong man. For this act, her parents cursed her to wander forever, stripped of rest or peace. From that moment on, she was bound to the winds, condemned to eternal roaming.
Her name has led some to believe that she was the daughter of an elven king, linking her to an otherworldly royal lineage rather than a purely human one. Whether princess or elf-child, Alvina’s fate remained the same: to drift endlessly through the air, her sorrow echoing whenever the wind rises.
Thus, Alvina is remembered as a mournful air spirit, her lament still heard whenever the wind cries across West Flanders.
Source
Abe de Verteller. (2014). Van aardmannetje tot zwarte juffer: Een lijst van Nederlandse en Vlaamse elfen en geesten. In AbeDeVerteller.nl, from https://abedeverteller.nl/van-aardmannetje-tot-zwarte-juffer-een-lijst-van-nederlandse-en-vlaamse-elfen-en-geesten/
