Hello ghostly friends. Today we have a guest submission. This is from my brother Easy across the pond. And what a delicious hands on tale with pictures. I do so hope you enjoy it. Try not to shake too much.
The Legends of the Mont’s d’ Arree
Located in the middle of Finisterre, the Monts d’ Arree are the natural border between north and south of Finisterre. This area is the bretagne bretonnante, the heart of Brittany.
And the time stands still there… literally, you can google it, with all our modern stuff, satellites, radio masts and whatnot, here NO cell phone works. The area is occupied by goblins, druids and some creatures of the darkness.
At night the stone carvings of Ankou, the death, come back to life and therefore all hikers and wanderers avoid the abandoned buildings you can find even in the darkest forest and far away from civilization.
If you enter such a house, you never will leave it… even when you run like the wind or a Weimaraner… just saying.
There also is one of the sneakiest bogs, the Yeun-Elez. Legend has it that the devil hid his treasures once there and those who want to get rich will die trying. The Prince of Darkness will grab the gold diggers by their legs and he will drag them into eternal darkness. Even the entrance to hell, Youdig, is here in this bog….butt no worries, the devil is not at home he is on the way to Lac St. Michel where another creature of the night lures for fresh victims.
Do you wonder why there is foam on the water? That’s because the lake is the playground of the Kannerezed Noz, the washer women of the night. They come out at night to wash the burial garments of recently passed people.
If you meet them, you have to wash the garments with them till dawn… if you can’t stand this they will break your arms and throw you in the lake.
Every year around Howl-o-ween, the druids come to this places to celebrate their annual samhain and a lot of people of the Gorsedds of Bards from Wales, Awens of Cornwall or Scotland or the Goursez Breizh visit this area for their rituals and it is common here to see people in white, blue, red or green robes who wander through the bog or the mountains. We don’t laugh at them. We greet them and leave them alone. You never know where humbug ends and magic begins…. specially here… tout commence à finisterre.