K is for Kelpie.....

Today's entry is dedicated to my wonderful social club pledge sister, who sent me off from our college sanctuary with a copy of "Scottish Folk and Fairy Tales", containing an inscription that the "magic and mischief of the Kelpie follow me".... She knew I had an affinity for water and for mischief...and for all-things Celtic--so the Kelpie seemed to suit---- though, I'm not quite as savage as many folktales paint Kelpies.

Kelpies are Celtic water horses, believed to haunt the lochs and rivers of Scotland and Ireland. The Kelpie was known to appear as a "lost pony", though, its identity is given away by its constantly dripping mane. Most stories give the color of the Kelpie's coat as black, though there are a few that mention the color white. The texture of the Kelpie's skin is likened to the smoothness of a seal, but its temperature is "cold as death to the touch."

Like many other tales of supernatural creatures, the Kelpie were known to transform into beautiful women, in order to lure men into a trap---- because, apparently, the only way to trap  men is to become a beautiful woman, then they are powerless to do anything to protect themselves----

And, in myths where the Kelpie isn't hunting men, "she's" luring children into the water to drown and eat them. The Kelpie, in its horse form, would encourage children to climb on its back for a ride. Once the child, or children, were astride its horse form, the skin of the Kelpie would become adhesive, and they would be pulled to the river's bottom where the Kelpie would feast on everything except the heart and liver. I haven't really found a myth explaining why the Kelpie leaves the heart and liver, though there was mention of them being like poison to a Kelpie in an article I read----

So, if you're ever wandering about the waterways in Ireland or Scotland, don't fall into company with any poor pony that happens your way---- especially if its mane is dripping wet and there hasn't been a rainstorm all day----

In the Waters Dark and Deep

In the waters dark and deep, 

where none of sunlight dare to go,

there in the cold and brackish depths, 

lie the souls of those you once did know.

As black as death, as white as ice,

with teeth as sharp as bone-strength,

the fetid, foul, monstrous steed,

makes its hollow far beneath.

Take heed along the water,

trust not the feeble mare,

her wretched, dripping mane,

a sign you must take care.

Though her trembling begs your pity,

her act, beguiling, is but a ruse,

no tender heart throbs within her frame,

as life's fragile thread, she seeks to undo.

Touch not the creature stood before you,

lest your timid grasp, held-fast,

no earnest plea will save you,

as her watery web is cast.

Far below, where cries fall silent,

and those who'd help know not your plight,

the Kelpie claims your ghost to sate her hunger,

your flesh and bone, seized in savage rite.

-- e.a.s. demers