A Case of a Mara in Jutland
Some reapers in a field, near a village in Jutland, came one evening upon a naked woman lying under a hedge, apparently asleep. Much surprised, they regarded her closely, and at length coming to the conclusion that her sleep was not natural, they summoned a shepherd who was generally regarded as very intelligent. On seeing the woman the shepherd at once said, "She is not a real person, though she looks like one. She is a mara, and has stripped for the purpose of riding some one to-night." At this there was loud laughter, and the reapers said, "Tell us another, Eric. A mara indeed! If this isn't a woman, our mothers are not women, for she is just as much of flesh and blood as they are." "All right," the shepherd replied, "wait and see." And bending over her, he whispered something in her ear, whereupon a queer little animal about two inches long came out of the grass, and running up her body, disappeared in her mouth. Then Eric pushed her, and she rolled over three times, then sprang to her feet, and with a wild startled cry leaped a high bush and disappeared. Nor could they, when they ran to the other side of the bush, find any traces of her.
Another recorded case is the following:
The Mara of Vilvorde
Christine Jansen had two lovers—Nielsen and Osdeven. Nielsen, who was a very good-looking young man, began to suffer from nightmare. He had the most appalling dreams of being strangled and suffocated, and they at last grew so frightful, and proved such a strain on his nerves, that he was forced to consult a doctor. The doctor attributed the cause to indigestion, and prescribed a special diet for him. But it was all of no avail; the bad dreams still continued, and Nielsen's health became more and more impaired.
At length, when he was almost worn out, having spent the greater part of many nights reading instead of sleeping, in order to avoid the frightful visions, he happened to mention his insufferable condition to Osdeven. Far from ridiculing his rival, Osdeven, with great earnestness, encouraged him to relate everything that had happened to him in his sleep; and when Nielsen had done so, exclaimed, "I'll tell you what it is—these dreams you have are not ordinary nightmares; they are due to a mara—I know their type well."
"To a mara!" Nielsen cried; "how ridiculous! Why not say to a mise—or—grim? It would be equally sensible; they are all idle superstitions."
"So you say now," Osdeven rejoined, "but wait! When you get into bed to-night, lie on your back, and in your right hand hold a sharp knife on your breast, the point upwards. Remain in this attitude from between eleven o'clock till two, and see what happens."
Nielsen laughed, but all the same decided to do as Osdeven suggested. Night came, and, knife in hand, he lay in his bed.
Minutes passed, and nothing happening, he was beginning to think what a fool he was for wasting his time thus, when suddenly he perceived bending over him the luminous figure of a beautiful nude woman, whom, to his utter astonishment, he identified as Christine Jansen—Christine Jansen in all but expression. The expression in the eyes he now looked into was not human—it was hellish. The figure got on the bed and was in the act of sitting astride him, when it came in contact with the knife. Then it uttered a frightful scream of baffled rage and pain, and vanished.
