Supernatural Friday: However You Call It, It’s Still Aswang to Me!

The Aswang is a flesh-eating, shapeshifting monster. During the day, Aswangs appear as regular townspeople. Although they’re shy and somewhat reclusive, they can have jobs, friends, and even families. It’s at night people have to worry, for Aswangs shift into eerie predatory forms and go hunting for human prey, preferring children and pregnant women for their flesh and blood.

The Aswang is a cryptid born out of Philippine folklore. Stories of this terrifying creature date back as far back as the 16th century, when Spanish explorers created the first written record of the monster. The explorers noted that of all the monsters in the Philippine folklore, the Aswang was the most feared by native people.

The creature’s name comes from the Sanskrit word “asura,” meaning demon. This terrifying monster is also sometimes called the tik-tik or the wak-wak. These names come from the sinister sounds the monster is said to make while hunting.

It can take the form of a woman during the day, but at night, it might appear as a bird, a pig, or a dog. Different regional versions of the creature are said to take different forms. The tik-tik and wak-wak become large birds, while the zegben (sometimes described simply as a companion of the monster) takes on the form of a Tasmanian devil. And as I stated earlier, these monsters have also been reported shifting into pigs and dogs. No matter which animal form it takes, the Aswang differs from a regular animal in various disturbing ways. Most Aswangs have long, proboscis-like tongues, and are frequently described as walking with their feet backward. They have also been depicted as being so thin that they can hide behind bamboo posts. Both the wak-wak version of the Aswang and the manananggals, a different monster, leave behind half of their human torso when they transform into a predatory form during the night.

Besides shapeshifting, Aswangs also can transform into other objects. It’s common for an Aswang to transform plant material into a doppelganger of one of its victims, to hide the evidence of its feeding habits from locals. These doppelgangers might replace corpses, which Aswangs often consume, or they might replace living people. If the doppelganger replaces a living person, it will return to the person’s home, get sick, and die.

Another tactic Aswangs use to disguise themselves is to use sinister vocal tricks. The closer fearsome predator draws to its victim, its call grows quieter and quieter, so its victim is tricked into thinking the monster is getting further away.

The Aswang’s hunting prowess is almost as frightening as its ability to hide itself in plain sight. Aswangs do like to dine on corpses, fetuses, and small children. They often appear at funeral wakes or at the bedside of pregnant women to eat. The Aswang uses its proboscis like tongue to suck blood from its victims or suck a fetus from a pregnant woman’s womb. They also have superhuman strength during the nighttime.

A person transforms into this deadly predator by tying a fertilized chicken egg to his or her stomach. After some time, the chick passes from the egg into the stomach. Once this has happened, the remaining eggshell is buried in a bamboo tube, along with coconut oil and chicken dung. The person now has the powers of an Aswang.

A dying Aswang can also pass its powers along to someone else if it wishes. The Aswang holds its mouth close to a chosen person, and the chick inside the monster’s stomach hops into the mouth of the new person.

The first step towards ridding a town of this deadly assailant is identifying the monster. There are several ways in which you can do this. Aswangs generally have bloodshot eyes, since they have been awake hunting all night. In addition, it is said that if you look directly into an Aswang’s eyes, your reflection will appear upside-down. The most common method of detecting Aswangs, however, involves using albularyos oil, a special oil made of coconuts and holy plants. This oil is said to boil whenever an Aswang is near.

Aswangs are repelled by garlic and religious artifacts like western vampires are, and are at their weakest during the day, while in human form. They can be killed by decapitation or by being struck with a whip made from a sting ray’s tail.

Supernatural Friday: Brrrr…It’s Cold: Myths and Legends of Winter; Part 2

Part 2 of the winter myths and legends. Enjoy.

Winter has so much interesting legends, myths, monsters, and gods and goddesses. Below is some more than the week before, but still, there are so much more. Like Babe the Blue Ox  was found by the giant, Paul Bunyan, in the snow in winter. These two are part of our American folklore.

There are the yetis, that are all year round, but because they are seen in the snowy Himalayas, we will add them to the winter myths and legends. But they are not the only monsters or beings we think of when it snows or winter’s harsh, cold winds blow.

Our first comes to us by way of the Inuit: Qiqirn. What if you live in the far North and traveling through the snow and ice when suddenly, you see a large, four-legged creature in front of you. It’s hairless, tufts appear on its ears, tail, feet, and around its fearsome muzzle. This creature is none other than the qiqirn. Lucky for you, the qiqirn is considered skittish if confronted, and flees when you shout its name. Lucky, as usually, they are potent hunters and excel at stalking their prey.

The next strange winter creature is a friendly one, via French-Swiss mythology. The barbegazi – from the French barbe-glacée, translating to “frozen beard.” These beings are small humanoid creatures with great beards and oversized feet. They travel around by using their feet as skis to zoom around the mountains. They also use their feet as snowshoes if the conditions call for it. During the warmer months, they burrow in deep tunnels within the mountains and aestivate until winter comes again. Barbegazi generally remain unseen by humans. That doesn’t stop them from liking people and helping them out, however. They help find animals that become lost, particularly sheep that wander from the flock, and they are always on the lookout for avalanches. If one is imminent, the barbegazi lets out a sharp whistle as warning.

Yuki-onna is known by many names, all a variant on “snow girl.” Yuki-onna appear as tall, beautiful women with black hair and blue lips. She either has transparent or pale skin that allows her to blend in with her surroundings, or wears a white kimono that serves the same purpose. The most common legend has yuki-onna being created by a woman perishing during a storm. She floats over the ground and strikes terror in those she encounters with her gaze. She can transform into a cloud of snow, and possesses lethal frost breath she uses on unsuspecting travelers that encounter her during snowstorms. Sometimes she manifests holding a child, and when someone offers to take the child, they are frozen in place. A few legends also have her killing people in their homes, though she must first be invited inside. Yuki-onna need to feed on the life force of the living, and she is sometimes depicted as a snow succubus, of sorts. In an interesting twist, she often spares those who are beautiful, good parents, or loving spouses. She’s big on promises being kept, as well. 

The ijiraq is a shapeshifter-shadow capable of taking any form it desires. Though their natural form is similar to a human’s, only their eyes and mouths are sideways, and their eyes glow a malevolent red. Ijirait will kidnap children and lead people fatally astray. They are only seen out of the corner of your eye, and cannot be seen if you are looking at them directly. They neither inhabit this world, nor are they quite outside of it, existing in two worlds at once. Legend has them as people who went too far north, and became trapped between the world of the living and the dead. The home of the Ijirait is a cursed land, causing even the most skilled of travelers to become lost, creating mirages that cause people to become increasingly turned around and panicked. Even if you survive an encounter with them, you will have no memory of it, as they cause forgetfulness to those they let live. Irjirait are generally considered evil, malicious, and to be avoided at all costs. The ijiraq is sometimes confused with the tariaksuq, another type of shadow-person. Tarriassuq (plural) are half-men, half-caribou monsters that can shift between their forms, and are possessed of malignant will, terrible claws, and shared the shadow people abilities of invisibility and non-detection with the ijiraq. 

Before we end this blog, we'll add a goddess to the mix. Beira is said the goddess of winter in Scottish folklore. Some sources also say she’s the Cailleach, a name which is said to be translated literally into English from Gaelic as ‘veiled one’. Apart from Scottish folklore, this figure is also found in the mythology of Ireland, though she is called by a slightly different name there. Moreover, they claim that a wintry figure is found in the beliefs of the various ancient groups that inhabited the British Isles. 

She may also be considered the mother of gods and goddesses in Scotland. Although a creator goddess, she was the type of deity who ruled through fear. Her subjects would begin to rebel against her reign when spring arrived, though she ruled undisputed during the winter. Those subjects looked forward to the coming of Angus and Bride, the King and Queen of Summer and Plenty.

There are versions of the stories where Beira is said to be an old blue hag with one eye. Her possession of one eye symbolizes her ability to see beyond duality, and into the oneness of all beings. In one version of the tale in which Beira is portrayed as a hag, the Queen of Winter seeks the love of a hero. If the hero accepts her, she would transform into a beautiful young maiden. This transformation symbolized the seeds that lay dormant in the earth during the winter, that sprouted with the arrival of spring. Here, Beira is seen not as an opponent of spring, but as spring itself.

In another version, Beira carries a magic staff that freezes the ground with each tap. At the end of each winter, she threw her staff under the holly and the gorse bush, both believed to be her sacred trees. The goddess transforms into a grey stone, signaling winter has ended.

Beira is also considered a goddess of death and rebirth, and another connection between Beira and the natural world makes her the guardian of animals during the winter, protecting them during the harsh season.

Next time, the polar vortex hits, or a terrible snowstorm, maybe we should make an offering to one of these beings. It couldn't be any worse than winterizing our homes and buying extra blankets, winter outerwear, or a shovel to dig ourselves out. 

Supernatural Friday: Monsters' Hunting Season (Original Poem)

Enjoy this original poem by me for Supernatural Friday. Do share the blog link ans not the perm, so others cab con and read it.

"Winter is Coming, That Mean's It's Soon Hunting Season"

Winter’s not here yet, 

It's just autumn

But the leaves are dropping

And winter's cold fingers touches my skin.

Nothing to fear,

Except freezing to death;

Right?

But the coldness

Brings the monsters

They want to play;

Play with you

In so many ways.

Less people in the woods,

It’s Sasquatch’s time.

Werewolf is drawn

To towns full of human prey.

Ghosts don’t feel

So they hunt, cold or hot

Zombies?

They can eat anytime!

As for vampires

They’re icebox cold too.

So who told you winter’s safe?

It’s just another hunting season

For monsters!

Supernatural Friday: Death By Monster (Original Poem)

An another hopefully heart-stopping original poem by me for Supernatural Friday. Please do share the link of the blog and not the poem, so people can read it. 

"Death by Monster"

By

Pamela K. Kinney

Cold as

death,

Somber dark

unfolding,

Silver sharp;

fear stabbing

moonbeams at trees.

Monster hunting,

preying on

innocent souls.

Silvered moonlight

reveals

that death

is never pretty,

but shines

the color of blood.

Supernatural Friday-Sorry Three Days Late!-Cigarettes

Sorry this is late by three days for Supernatural Friday, but Mysticon was busy for me. This may hapen to me for Ravencon last Friday in April, so fair warning! Enjoy this original horror short story of mine. Please do not share the story, instead just share the link to your friends a nd relative to come read it here. It is my own story and copyrighted. Thanks again, and enjoy. 

"Cigarettes"

By

Pamela K. Kinney

The breathing in his lungs grew harsher as he ran and ran. Damn it, it hurt to suck in air. He didn’t dare look over his should to see if it still pursued him. After all, he might stumble over something and fall and the thing would be able to get him. The night being so dark he wouldn’t see it, not until it was in clawing distance anyway.

They warned his wife, Tillie and him, that some beast prowled the area at night, mainly when the crescent moon hung low in the sky. For months whatever it was, bayed long into the night as it prowled. Hearing it for so long, he hated it. Hated that it kept him indoors at night. Hated that fear of it ruled his and the town’s nights.  Tillie went to bed early those nights, but he stayed up until late, after the sound had died away. When he came to bed, Tillie seem to have a sexual appetite that rivaled none she had any other time during their marriage of one year. She appeared to pay no heed that he obviously spent the night smoking. The only time he applauded the creature stalking the woods nearby. It made his wife even more . . . sensual.

The past month, there had been nothing. And he needed some cigarettes. Bad enough that the shakes came over him and the craving dug deep into him. He grew sharp at Tillie, who started to give him angry looks. Looks she never had before. She bit back at him, like PMs had gotten control of her. She told him not to go. After all, he could get the damned pack in the morning. But he didn’t listen to her. After their worse argument ever, he stomped out the door and to their car.

It hadn’t taken him long—just a half hour to drive to town to the only gas station that stayed open until six at least. By the clock in the dashboard, it was six.

The owner of the place was locking up when he screeched the car to a stop. Would have locked the door and gotten into his own vehicle to drive away if Jim hadn’t paid him an extra twenty just to remain open for five more minutes to get his pack of cigarettes and pay for them. The man then closed the place and zoomed out into the street and down it. Normally, a cop would catch and ticket him, but since the killings, the police had more things to worry about then some speeder. Which was why Jim himself could stamp on the pedal for home. The only good thing; lack of cops and oh yeah, his horny wife. Though the way they been duking it out the past few weeks, he doubted he would get any tonight.

He had made about halfway home when the car broke down. He cranked the engine. Nothing. Tried again. It didn’t even give a cough.

The ‘bitch’ finally gave up the ghost on him. He couldn’t understand what the problem could be and it was too dark, with only a crescent moon and a few straggling stars as his light, as he couldn’t find the flashlight he swore he had put in the glove compartment anywhere in the vehicle. He climbed out, kicked the door shut, and not even bothering to lock it, trudged home.

There had been nothing for the first fifteen minutes of him tramping on the road. Whatever had haunted the woods must have left after the last death. A crescent moon mocked him from the sky and there’d always been that kind of moon during the killings. He heard not one peep from the woods on either side of him. The silence reassured him.

Jim remembered the terror that had filled the tiny town. That some beast had caught and ravished, even partially eating, some pets, a horse in a pasture, and fifteen people. . .  What was that? He paused, and stared at all the trees. Minutes before the night appeared harmless. Now the hulking shadows that lined the road on both sides of the road had his heart hammering. Though nothing moved.

Suddenly, the stillness bothered him. Sweat beaded on his forehead and under his armpits, despite the chill in the air. Heart pounding, he began to walk faster. Fear pushed him to break his stride into a jog.  Not much for exercising, his legs protested it.

A low growl came from the left of him.

Jim didn’t stop moving, but he turned to peer at the forest that way. Nothing.  A shadow detached from the trees and stepped onto the road.

Shit!

He broke into a run. His legs screamed, but he ignored them as a howl rent the air.  An answering prissy girl screams in his own ears.

God, was that him?

Yes, it was. He belted out into a flat-out run for his life. For that was what he was doing; saving his skin. 

He caught sight of a light. His house! The light glinted from behind the curtain at one of the front room windows.

Thank God, if he got inside and locked the door behind him, he’d be safe. Of course, he would give a call to the police and let them know the thing that been killed all those people and pets wasn’t gone. Tomorrow, he would tell his wife they need to love into town. Forget it, move some—

SMACK!

“Hell,” he cursed, “that hurts.”

Hurt? He felt sure that he’d broken his nose, running right into his front door. He wondered why Tillie hadn’t opened the door and hissed at him to get inside. But she hadn’t. What a time for her to go to bed. She had nagged about him going out, that it was not safe to do so, but then, she doesn’t even remain up until he made it back home, safe and sound.

Fumbling in his pockets, he found the pack of cigarettes that had foolishly drawn him out tonight, a lighter, and nothing else. No wallet, no keys.

Damn it—he must have left all his keys dangling from the ignition in his dead car and the wallet on the seat. Dead car? If he didn’t get inside, he might be dead as the junk heap. With a frantic hitch in his breathing, he tried the door knob, but the door refused to open. A dumb idiot to boot, he didn’t leave a key hidden outside, just in case. He darted over to the front room windows, fumbling with them, but none would lift up so he could climb inside. He got all way to the back. Put his hand on the knob of the back door, knowing it was futile as the howling grew closer. Twisted. . .

The door creaked open.

Oh God, oh God! Jim bolted in and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it and sliding the deadbolt home.  He backed away from the door, waiting for something to ram against it. When nothing did and the howling cut off, he backpedaled through the doorway into his living room. A light glowed from a lamp by the window and he switched it off. No need to alert the thing outside of any presence in the home as it was.

God. Tillie. What about his wife? He crept down the hallway, not turning on the light, and pushed open the bedroom door.

He stood in the doorway. Strange. Even when she’d gotten mad as soaked bear, she never shut the bedroom door on him. After what his life had been like earlier, he needed a cigarette. He took one out of the pack with a shaking hand, almost dropping it, but he didn’t and lit it, drawing the taste into his mouth before he blew out a ring or two. Tillie would kill him for smoking in their bedroom. With a shrug, he stepped inside. Heard the door slammed shut behind him and he turned. He thought he saw a shadow, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Tillie?”

A low growl that grew louder. His heart thumped like a rabbit pursued by a fox as he sweated. He reached over to the lamp on the bedstead near him. The light flooded the room, washing over what stood by the closed door.

It looked like Tillie and yet, it didn’t.  A mouth full of fangs too big for it, red eyes and a flat nose, with Neanderthal brows hung over the features like a hanging cliff. Claws like knives sprouted from her fingers and toes. Nude, she felt no sexual want at her form, for raggedy fur scattered over her skin.

“I told you to stay home, but no, you had to feed your addiction for smokes.” His wife's voice more growly and deep, and he admitted it, downright frightening. “Mother said not to marry a human, but did I listen? No. She said they were filthy, with their drinking and smoking. I thought you were different. I fought my old urges. Even when I heard Mother’s howls at night. Calling to me to come join her.” She shook her head and for a minute, despite her horrible visage, she almost looked like the old Tillie he had married. But only for a second as her face hardened. “Guess you can’t change a human and not even a troll either. I am finding I can’t control my need for raw human flesh just as you can’t stop smoking those nauseous cigarettes.

“Mother was right. Humans are only good for one thing. Food. She told me to never marry what you eat.”

Jim screamed, the sound growing shriller as she leapt onto him and bit his throat. His blood flowing and his fingers numbing, the burning butt dropped from them into the rug below.

A fire lit in the fibers. It raged as she dragged him outside to where another troll waited beneath a giant tree. Jim heard the screams of a fire engine in the distance as both started gnawing on him. Or maybe it was his own waning screams?

As darkness overcame him, he thought, Tillie always said smoking would kill me.

Supernatural Friday One Day Early: Winter Night's Fright

Since I am out of town for Mysticon beginning tomorrow and plan to be in my room writing a wip today, I figure to go ahead and post Supernatural Friday one day early. The poem is an original one by me, so please do not copy and paste it elsewhere. Do share the link though, so others can come and enjoy it. Thank you.

                        Winter Night's Fright                                                 

                                      By

                     Pamela K. Kinney

                 Snowy winter night
                 Full of fright,
                 Dreams turn to nightmares
                 Snow to ghosts,
                 But fear not, dreamer
                Warm beds melt cold monsters.

Supernatural Friday: Winter is Hunting Season

Winter is Hunting Season

by

Pamela K. Kinney 
(copyrighted to the author, so please just share the link, not take the poem)

Winter’s cold fingers touching my skin

Nothing to fear,

Except freezing to death;

Right?

But the coldness

Brings the monsters

They want to play;

Play with you

In so many ways.

Less people in the woods,

It’s Sasquatch’s time.

Werewolf is drawn

To towns more.

Ghosts don’t feel

So they haunt--cold or hot

Zombies?

They can eat anytime!

As for vampires

They’re icebox cold too.

So who told you winter’s safe?

It’s just another hunting season--

For monsters!

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM PAMELA K. KINNEY

Merry Christmas or whatever you celebrate, enjoy this poem I wrote, done to the tune of "A  Night Before Christmas."

"A Genre Writer's Christmas"

By

Pamela K. Kinney

It was the night before Christmas,

And this writer was busy plotting

When all of a sudden--

Her characters came to life!

There was the monster from her novel,

It was chomping on a tasty victim.

The hero appeared, stunning in purple;

Well, that's the writer's favorite color, of course!

What did you expect: white?

He grabbed a sharpened pencil to duel with the fiend

When the heroine popped in midair and dropped down,

Into a container overflowing with paper clips.

Drowning, a clip in her mouth, she cried out for help,

And who do you think rescued her?

Not the hero, oh no!

He was trying to make time with a statue of a gargoyle,

That stood guard over the writer's laptop

For he had a thing for beings made of stone

The monster rushed right over in a flash,

Not to kill her or eat her,

No, with a gentle paw, he helped her up.

And arm in arm, both vanished to the monster's lair

Where in chapter eleven, they got it on hot and heavy—

Wait a moment…did you expect to read the scene?

No, this Christmas poem is rated PG.

The writer just shook her head,

With a click of the mouse, saved the story.

The hero dissipated, no more to be seen,

Well, not until chapter twelve, anyway.

With a sigh, the writer stood, snatching up her coffee cup,

Time to join the family and reality,

The story could wait for another time.

Because it's Christmas after all:

Merry Christmas to all and to all, a magical night!

SUPERNATURAL FRIDAY: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! A Free Story!



The below flash fiction belongs to Pamela K. Kinney and is copyrighted to her only, so please share thr blog link to your friends and not take off this blog to put on yours, or on forums or websites. Thank you.

 Trick-Or-Treat

By

Pamela K. Kinney

Janie and Bobby dressed in costumes trudged up the sidewalk as they passed other similarly dressed children. It was Halloween, their favorite time of the year. When all children could go door to door, knock, and candy were poured into their waiting bags after yelling, ‘trick or treat.’ If the adult refused, the kids could play tricks on them and get away with it.

Janie and Bobby loved the treats, but they loved doing the tricks even more. They loved doing nasty, terrible tricks.

“It is tradition,” Mama told them. If the adults gave them candy, then fine and dandy, don’t do anything. But for that one who said, “No treats for you here, now go away!” they had permission to go ahead and do what their family had been doing since the early 1900s.

Janie and Bobby couldn’t wait. For the past couple of years they hadn’t been able to play any of their tricks, as every door they had knocked at the owners handed over candy, fruit, popcorn balls, tiny toys, and money. But when they woke up this morning, they sensed that this night would be different. They would finally be just like the rest of their family.

Nothing happened so far. Both of their bags laden heavy with the fruits of their labor, they stopped before the white picket fence that surrounded the yard of a pretty white Cape Cod home. It looked normal and so . . . suburbia.

This was it. They felt it. They would finally get what was owed them. They couldn’t wait.

Janie and Bobby tipped up their masks and looked at each other, shark grins flashing on their sweet, chubby faces. They pushed the gate open and wandered up the leaf strewn path to the front door. No Halloween decorations shown anywhere and no lit Jack-O-Lantern greeted them, just the closed door, painted a cheery blue.
They knocked and waited.

The door opened without one creak, and a little old lady stood on the other side. Her white hair was swept up in a bun and she wore a cheerful flowered print top and white pants. She peered at them, then blinked her eyes behind tortoiseshell glasses.

“Sorry,” she said, “but I forgot to buy candy to give out tonight.”

Bobby grinned. “That’s okay. We rather not have any treats. Tricks are oh so much cooler.” He tossed aside his bag and the sweets scattered across the front stoop.

He lifted his real axe. He had dressed as serial killer on purpose this morning. His sister was garbed as Lizzie Borden, her own axe gripped tight in her fist. She dropped her own bag and raised it high above her head.

The old lady stepped closer and smiled. “I know. I’ve been waiting for you, my dears. Human killers are not very smart. Not when inhuman ones have perfected their own bag of tricks for eons. My kind has been hunting their prey the hard way for centuries. Many still do. Not me though, I found a much easier way. Usually I decorate my place to attract regular human children on this night, but when I moved here and heard of the murders that been going on in this town for a very long time, I devised a different tactic.” She giggled. “It’s justice for the humans in this town after all and delivery food for me.”

Her face cracked and it split apart, falling to the floor. The rest of the body followed. Amidst the scattered pieces of the flesh, a giant shaggy wolf-like creature stood on clawed hind feet. It snatched both children to its breast. Bobby and Janie screamed, but the sounds were cut off when they were taken indoors and the door slammed shut behind them.

 HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Supernatural Friday: Talking About Worms--the Monstrous Kind

I am not talking about the kind you put your fishing hook, or the kind that you might find in your cat or dog. No, these worms are terrifying and monstrous. The old English form of the word worm (or wyrm) refers to a humongous snake or dragon. Like the Lambton Worm from the northeastern part of England.

Lambton Wrym: This gigantic worm terrorized the above mentioned region in medieval times. The story goes, that John Lambton, heir of the Lambton estate in County Durham, decided to go fishing one Sunday morning. He had been warned by a mysterious old man that no good could come of skipping church. But the young man ignored the advice and went fishing anyway. He had no success in catching anything out of the Wear River, then he pulls in a strange fish. The eel-like creature had the head of a salamander and nine holes on each side of its skull. Lambton said he’d caught "the devil." On the advice of the old man, he decides not to return it to the river. Instead, he throws it down a well.

When Lambton became a man, he went off to fight in the Crusades. All this time though, the creature thrived underground and had grown to an immense size inside the well, poisoning the water and when it emerged, it started to terrorize the land by eating livestock, along with the occasional village child. It approached Lambton Manor, where John's father manages to placate it on a daily basis by filling a stone trough outside the building with fresh milk for it to drink. In between assaults on the surrounding countryside, the creature relaxes by wrapping itself around the base of a hill.

Various villagers and knights try to slay the monster, but discovered that slicing off sections of the worm is ineffective as the creature seems to be able to reattach lost parts without much permanent damage (or more likely grew the part back like a lizard?). The worm also would catch some of the foolhardy in its coils and slowly squeezed that person to death (like a boa constrictor or python?).

Young John came home from the Crusades to find his father's land in ruin from the worm. He vows to destroy the creature and seeks the aid of a local witch. The witch tells him that he is responsible for the worm's existence by his actions as a boy. The witch’s' advice is to go to the local blacksmith and have his armor covered with razor-sharp spear points. Then he must find the worm as it lay wrapped around a great rock down by the river to fight it. She warns Lambton that if he is successful in his quest, he will be required to kill the first living thing he sees after his victory, or the Lambton family will be cursed for nine generations with no heir dying peacefully in his bed.

Brave Sir John takes her suggestions to heart and they prove to be the keys he needs to defeat the beast. When the animal gets a hold of him in its coils, it cannot squeeze him to death as the spear points on his armor drive into the creature's body. Because he is fighting the worm at the edge of the Wear River, any parts cut off fall off into the water and are swept downstream, so the beast cannot heal itself by reattaching/ The monster is killed.  It has been arranged that at his bugle signal, one of his hunting hounds will be released. It will run to him and John will slay it to save his family from the curse. Unfortunately, John's father forgets about the signal and runs out himself to greet his son after the victory. John does not have the heart to kill his father and the family is cursed for nine generations.

Also, did nine generations of Lambtons die violent deaths? Some of them may have. Given that the Lambtons were involved in such actions as the English Civil War, however, a premature end to their lives doesn't seem all that unlikely. The curse may also have been self-fulfilling: It is said that by the ninth generation one Lambton slept with a horse whip by his bedside to defend himself in fear that his servants might take actions to make the curse come true.

There’s a song about the myth: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEb8r_M6ln0 one might like to listen to.  

The Mongolian Death Worm: This cryptid has gained status in the past 90 years. It is alleged to exist in the Gobi Desert, Mongolia. The creature is believed to exist by traditional inhabitants of the area. An expedition in the 1920s was sent out to try and discover and capture one of these beasts. The expedition met with failure.

It is described as a red worm ranging from two to five feet in length, with a thick body. It can kill at a distance, spewing acid, poison, or causing an electric shock. Biologists who have studied the area cannot find an indigenous animal to equate the myth with this creature..

The Minhocão: This means "big earthworm" in Portuguese. This giant subterranean worm-like cryptid inhabits the earth beneath South American forests. Though enormous earth worms, there are reports of them also being aquatic. There is a type of tentacle like appendage that protrudes from the head and it has been reported to prey on large mammals, namely cattle, capturing them from below the water where the bovines came to drink. Its body length can vary in size, from seventy-five to a hundred and fifty feet, and it also is known for the enormous tunnels it leaves behind. These tunnels suggest a diameter of up to ten feet. Buildings collapsing into the earth have been blamed on the tunnels left by this creature. These tunnels can sometimes flood and created subterranean water bodies. The Minhocao is featured in the game "Final Fantasy" as a "sand worm."

Unlike their mythological cousins, there are giant earthworms that actually exist and are not dragon or snakes.  They live in Australia, Japan and South America. The giant Gippsland earth worm is found only in the Bass River valley of South Gippsland in Victoria, Australia. These huge worms regularly reach sizes of 10 feet. The longest specimen on record was measured at 14 feet long. These rare earthworms are so large that it is possible to hear the gurgling sound of their movement through the earth when they are disturbed.

In New Zealand, there is another large worm known as the North Auckland worm that reaches a length of 4.5 feet. These worms have the added surprising, some might even say creepy, feature of glowing in the dark. By some accounts, the light the worms emit is said to be bright enough to read by.

Tales of enormous earthworms surface from time to time in various areas of Japan. One such account is Hyogo prefecture, on Honshu Island, which has many historical accounts of worms at five feet long. One tale comes from the year 1712, in what was then known as Tamba province (now part of Hyogo). A huge landslide occurred in a village, after which two giant earthworms were found in the debris. One of these worms measured five feet in length. The other was larger, at ten feet long. Another landslide that occurred in the same general vicinity allegedly unearthed a long worm around fifteen feet. A more modern report from Mikata-gun, which is located in the mountains of Hyogo prefecture, dates from 1996 when a farmer uncovered an earthworm 3.3 feet long and 0.8 inches thick while planting a tree on his rural property. It was the first time the surprised farmer had ever encountered such a large worm in all his years in the area. 

Giant worms have been reported from other parts of Japan as well. In Okayama, one woman said she had seen a worm ten feet long in a field that was being tilled. The worm had apparently been disturbed by the farming activity. Another farmer in the same area brought up a still thrashing piece of a worm that had been hacked off during farm work. The piece is estimated to have come from a worm up to 13 feet long. The rest of the worm could not be located.
Another of the largest known species is the South African giant worm that normally grow to around six feet long, but there is evidence that they maybe larger. In 1967, a South African worm was found by the side of a road in William’s Town, measuring at an incredible twenty-two feet in length, though its diameter was still only around 2 cm. This remains the longest earthworm ever confirmed.

So, the next time you start digging in your garden, take care. That earthworm you unearthed, may not be as small as you think. And it just might be hungry for human flesh!