Lucid Dreams and Saturn Skies The Life and Writing of Andrew Kincaid

Tag Archives: Werewolves

The Beast of Bray Road

A medieval wood cut of a werewolf. The Beast of Bray Road looks a bit like this, except bulkier, hairier, and minus that mankini thing this guy has going on.

Bray Road is a rural stretch of road near Elkhorn, Wisconsin, unremarkable in nearly every respect save for one.  It is said that a monster lurks in the surrounding woods, a hulking thing of fur and claws and teeth called the Beast of Bray Road.  Sightings of the supposed beast began in the 1980′s, but similar creatures have been seen around southern Wisconsin, northern Illinois, and parts of Michigan.  The creature is also known by a less publicized but a much more descriptive moniker, the Michigan Dogman.

The Beast is described as being between seven and ten feet tall and about four to eight hundred pounds.  Its body is covered in shaggy, brown gray hair, and it is described as being built like a very large, very bulky man.  It is primarily said to walk on two legs, but eyewitness reports also claim that it’s almost equally comfortable dropping down on all fours.  Witnesses also claim there is a strong odor associated with the creature, like a musky or musty smell.  In general, this critter sounds like a fairly standard description of Bigfoot, save for two important differences: the occasional four footed gait and the fact that the Beast of Bray Road is said to have a wolf’s head atop a mostly humanoid body.
This strange twist led local papers to dub the Beast a “werewolf”, although there are no accounts of any humans transforming into the creature so the label is a bit of a misnomer.

Now, at least Bigfoot has the benefit of plausibility.  After all, at one time there were gigantic apes alive in parts of Asia, and there are about 6.5 billion bipedal apes wandering around the planet as we speak.  While there have been hundred and hundreds of stories over the span of human history of anthropomorphic animals, so far there is no scientific evidence of such a being’s existence.  Such a being, say an anthropomorphic dog, would not make any biological sense.  There’s a good reason why humans look like we do–we’ve evolved over millions of years to a bipedal, omnivorous lifestyle.  Wolves look like they do also for very good evolutionary reasons–they are highly adapted predators, designed by evolution to hunt.  There’s really no way you could mix and match a hominid body and a canine skull and get an animal that could survive.  Not that you would ever see such a mix anyway, since the two lines are of descent are at best distant cousins.

I think that the Beast of Bray road is not a biological organism, but rather a being of belief, like so many folkloric monsters.  Probably the stories resulted from either tall tails that took on a life of their own, misidentification of local fauna (such as bears) or some combination of both.  That being said, it doesn’t make the story any less real for the people who have had the misfortune of seeing the Beast of Bray Road.

My Latest Netflix Addiction–Supernatural

Supernatural is a paranormal tv show about two hunters who face the forces of evil.

The title card for season seven of Supernatural

You know, it’s kind of funny.  Now that I don’t have cable, I find myself watching more television than when I did.  More to the point, I watch more long running series.  That was something I never did too much when we had cable–I’d start a show and wind up fizzling out a few seasons into its run.  It would start with a few missed episodes here and there, until I wound up completely forgetting about the show until I saw a commercial for it.  So it was with the series Supernatural and just about every other television series on cable in the last ten years or so.  Netflix changed all that, mainly because it allows me to watch what I want, when I want (provided it’s on instant, that is).

Supernatural follows the brothers Sam and Dean Winchester as they go about the family business–hunting things that go bump in the night.  The series begins with a monster-a-week format under the arc of a main storyline that is slowly revealed over time.  Most of the first season focuses on the hunt for the yellow-eyed demon that killed the brother’s mother and burnt down their home.

While the subject matter of Supernatural is often dark and disturbing, they manage to keep a sense of humor.  The show manages to balance serious episodes with funny ones pretty well while never dropping the ball in terms of the plot.  Every episode is sprinkled with pop-culture references to classic rock bands, horror movies, and TV shows.

Despite the scale of events that occur as the series progresses, Supernatural retains a playful, self deprecating sense of humor.  Seriously, there are a lot of laugh out loud moments in this show.  It’s a great show, but not without some problems.  Sometimes the humor seems ill placed given the gravity of events.  It can get a bit repetitive as well, especially when they break away from the monster-a-week format and start focusing more on the main story-line.  The dynamic between Sam and Dean, while interesting, can get a bit grating.  Dean basically treats Sam like crap through half of the series, mostly because he’s older.  While Dean basically makes the series, his tough guy demeanor sort of started to get on my nerves on and off throughout.  Sam has a problem as well, mainly because he’s as overly sensitive as Dean is stereotypically macho.

I should clarify that I’ve only watched up to the first part of season five so far.  From what I understand, the main story arc of the series concludes at the end of season five.  A friend of mine said the quality of the show goes downhill starting with season six, so much so that one of the original creators is no longer a part of production.  Netflix only has up until season six, so pretty soon I suppose I will see for myself.  Still, if you like vampires, werewolves, demons, and other bogies, give Supernatural a look.  Despite its flaws, it’s a great show and well worth watching.

The Allure of B-Movies

Poster art from the 1954 B-movie classic, THEM!

I also like the posters from the old days. They’re fun!

Ah…B-movies.  I enjoy cheesy old sci-fi/horror movies from the fifties and sixties, especially the black and white ones.  Those are my favorite types of B-movies, and I think the most iconic of the bunch although the genre is alive and well in the 21st century.  If you want proof, just flip to SyFy on Saturday nights at nine and you’ll see what I mean.

Even so, the B-movies from fifty or sixty years ago are in a league of their own.  They have an innocent charm that modern B-movies often lack.  There was no CGI back in those days, and often these movies were made on a shoestring budget, but the cheesy special effects were part of the fun.  Often B-movies followed a set formula.  Typically they involved an incident of science gone wrong–most often the culprit was radiation of some sort, but it could also be the work of a mad scientist–that resulted in some freakish monster (usually a guy in a rubber suit).  The protagonists turn to conservative forces such as the military and police, or toward science to find the solution to the problem.  I use the word “science” loosely here, because by today’s standards the science they played with was laughable.  Another subset of the genre involved an alien invasion, which would once again be thwarted by conservative forces or by science.

Writers and directors back in the day took the formula I just described above and had all sorts of fun with it.  THEM! is a perfect example of the genre; in fact, it’s often cited as the textbook example of the B-movie genre.  The movie is about ants that become enormous as a result of radioactive fallout from nuclear testing out in Nevada.  These giant ants spread all over the world and establish colonies, and (naturally) it’s up to the U.S. Army and some scientists to clear the matter up.  It sounds silly, but seriously give THEM! a watch sometime when you can–it’s actually a pretty good movie.

Night of the Living Dead is also a B-movie modeled on a formula similar to the one I outlined above, but it’s noticeably darker and really helped to give birth to the modern horror movie (for better or worse).  NOTLD featured ghouls–the word zombie was never used in the movie itself–who were raised from the dead ostensibly by strange radiation from a Venus probe.  These ghouls were shown on film eating people.  And it’s hard to spoil a fifty year old movie, but suffice it to say the ending was NOT in line with the typical B-movie up to that point.  George Romero turned the B-movie formula on its head while simultaneously remaining faithful to the tradition–no small feat, that.  Night of the Living Dead is another example of a B-movie that, when you get beyond the cheap special effects and bad acting, was in the end a pretty good movie (one of my all time favorites, actually).

And that right there is why I like B-movies.  When you get beyond the goofy premises and hokey special effects and look deeply at the movie, they often tell pretty good stories.  They couldn’t rely on special effects like today’s movies–don’t get me wrong though, modern B-movies are great fun but they often rely too heavily on gore and SFX for my taste–so instead they had to attempt to tell a decent story.  That, and the actors actually had to act, while no doubt biting back laughter at the goofy looking dude in the rubber suit.  Granted, many B-movies were lousy in the story and acting departments both, but they at least made up for it with unintentional hilarity (Plan 9 From Outer Space comes to mind).

Zombies from George Romero's B-movie classic, Night of the Living Dead

Zombies. This picture has gotten a lot of mileage on this blog, I’ve noticed =P.

Those aren’t the only reasons I like B-movies.  Sometimes I get tired of the cynicism of our age, an attitude that leaks into our cinematic culture, as it must.  In terms of horror, that translates into nihilistic plots, gore, and copious amounts of sex.  There’s nothing wrong with any of that, but sometimes I get sick of it.  I want to interrupt myself at this point to say that I was brought up in a socially conservative household and live in a conservative area and while I do not subscribe to all of those beliefs now, their influence is still there.  So for me, it is a breath of fresh air to watch an old time movie where the most gore you might see is a bit of chocolate sauce smeared on someone’s shirt, that ends on a note of optimism rather than cynicism (NOTLD is an exception to all of this, of course).

The saying goes that “they don’t make’em like they used to”.  True to some extent.  While horror and movies in general have become objectively better in many ways than their predecessors from the old days, nothing can replace the fun and charm of the old time B-movies.

What are your cinematic guilty pleasures?  Do you like the B monster movies from the fifties and sixties, or do they bore you to tears?


The Morbach Monster

A WolfWolf

Recently, a witness came forward and told me that my facts were wrong in this article. This is the ‘standard’ account. It gives some of the folkloric background behind the case, but the part about what happened the night of the sighting is apparently inaccurate. Follow this link (or read the comments) to see an eyewitness account of that night!

I live in Bigfoot country.  I considered doing an article about our big hairy friend, but I decided to shake things up a bit.  It’s always the same kind of thing on these pages – Bigfoot, Mothman, aliens, and the chupacabra.  Don’t get me wrong – I’ll  probably do articles about those at some point.  They’re monster staples, after all.

For today though I decided to do something different.  I stumbled across a story I was unaware of.  Although I consider myself fairly well versed in folklore and monster lore, the Morbach Monster was new in my book.

The story goes that back around the time Napoleon botched his attempted invasion of Russia (never, EVER invade Russia in the winter – if you ever find yourself conquering the world, keep this bit of advice in mind) a soldier and deserter by the name of Thomas Johannes Baptist Schywtzer was fleeing the debacle with a group of Russian deserters.  The little group passed through the town of Wittlich, where they stopped to engage in a bit of pillaging.  They killed a farmer and his family.  With her last words, the farmer’s wife laid a curse on Thomas – that each night of the full moon he would become a werewolf.

He went on about his business, but  as time passed he became more and more violent and disturbed.  He raped and killed at a whim.  His Russian friends left him him, and he fell in with highwaymen.  Apparently he was too nasty even for them, because they eventually kicked him to the curb as well.  He took refuge deep in the forests around Wittlich.  Later, lo and behold, folks in those parts began to report sightings of a man-like wolf creature lurking in the night, killing man and animal alike.

Finally, the villagers had enough, and in fine monster movie style they hunted the monster to his lair and destroyed him.  They drug the body to a crossroads (crossroads were places of power, thought to be a place where This World and the Next intersected) and buried it there.  They then erected a shrine over the site.  Legend has it that so long as the candle in said shrine burns on the night of the full moon, the werewolf will lie dormant.

Superstition right?

Maybe.  But in 1988, US Airmen stationed in nearby Morbach Air Force Base happened to notice that the shrine’s candle had burnt out.  They laughed and joked about it as they were aware of the story but thought it little more than superstition.

Well, they thought that until the perimeter fence sensors were tripped and an alarm woke the base from its slumber.  Security guards spotted a large creature, that looked like a wolf but standing on its hind legs.  The thing fled, leaping over a 3 meter fence as if it weren’t even there.

The security guards organized a search party, complete with tracking dogs.  The dogs caught a scent but would not pursue whatever it was.

So what did those Airmen see that night?  Was it really the Morbach Monster?  Was it a clever hoax by a group of pranksters?  A case of mis-identification? Or was it something we simply cannot explain?

I have no idea.  I just tell stories – I don’t offer conclusions.  I’ll leave it to you, dear reader, to decide for yourself.


Albert Fish – The Werewolf of Wysteria

Albert Fish, a child molester and cannibal who killed at least seven children in and around New York.  He probably killed more but no one can be certain.

The Boogeyman. The Brooklyn Vampire. The Werewolf of Wysteria. Albert Fish wore many names, but get right down to it you are looking into the face of a monster.

I decided that I would start this post with a disclaimer because of the horrific nature of this man’s crimes.  What he did, as you will see, was uniquely horrible.  If you are bothered by the grotesque, I might suggest that you don’t read on. If you don’t mind…well…here goes!

Albert Fish (dubbed by papers as “The Werewolf of Wysteria”, “The Brooklyn Vampire”, and “The Boogeyman”) was born May 19 1870 to a family plagued by mental illness.  The unfortunate clan had a veritable laundry list of psychiatric disorders sprinkled all throughout its history: religious mania, delusions, psychosis.  I don’t think then that it would have been a surprise to anyone that Albert Fish would wind up sick in the head, but I very much doubt anyone could have predicted the dark places his madness would take him.

We know now that such madness (or mental illness if you feel like being clinical) is indeed heritable, but also that a healthy environment can offset the psychiatric disturbances encoded by nature. Genetics loads the gun, and environment pulls the trigger.

Unfortunately, Fish’s upbringing was as unfortunate as his heritage.  He was orphaned around age 12 and sent to an orphanage, where he experienced unspeakable brutality.  He and the other boys would be ordered to strip naked and they would be beaten in front of one another.  Eventually, Fish began to derive sexual gratification from the beatings and would be teased when he became aroused during one.

These early experiences in large part set the stage for the horrors to come.  As Fish grew older he began to indulge in depravity on a scale that only Caligula or the Marquis de Sade could fully appreciate.  He was apparently bisexual (he had homosexual lovers but he also was married and fathered six children), a pedophile, and he engaged in coprophilia, urophilia, sadism, masochism, and infibulation (he pierced himself needles – Fish had about two dozen needles lodged in his pelvis at autopsy.)

Albert Fish's X-Ray, depicting the pins and needles Albert Fish inserted into himself to fulfill his sick perversions.

In this X-Ray image, you can see the pins and needles Fish inserted into himself.

Reading the list of Fish’s sins is like reading Satan’s to-do list.   On more than one occasion, Fish had his own children and neighborhood children beat him with a custom paddle he’d built that was studded with nails.  He sent letters to women who posted personal ads, letters so foul that even though they were submitted as evidence in his trial they were not read aloud.

Albert Fish’s depravity culminated in the torture, murder, and cannibalism that made him infamous in the annals of criminal history.  He chose victims he thought no one would miss, often African American or poor white children.  Fish tortured killed with what he called his Instruments of Hell: a meat cleaver, a saw, the paddle, and knives.

No one can be entirely certain how many children and young men died at this monster’s hands.  Fish claimed to have killed four hundred, but that number is thought to be highly exaggerated.  It’s certain that he killed at least four and  it’s thought he killed three more.

One of those victims was Grace Budd, and it was her murder that brought the monster’s activity to the attention of the world.

Her older brother had advertised in the classifieds, saying he was looking for work in the country.  Fish responded to the ad, posing as a farmer from Long Island named Frank Howard,  hoping to net himself another boy to do his fiendish work on.  He showed up at the Budd house and found the boy too large and intimidating to handle, so he fixated on the boy’s younger sister instead.  The family thought Fish was a godsend: money was tight and his generous offer of $15 a week for farm work endeared them to him.  They thought nothing of it when he claimed he was going to attend a birthday party for his sister, and invited little Grace to go with him.  After all, he was a kindly looking old man and he had given their family a golden opportunity.  Why not trust him?

They would only learn why too late.  Gracie Budd was never seen alive again.

Detective William F. King took the case.  He worked tirelessly for six years tracing tenuous leads to dead ends.  Fish was as elusive as he was monstrous, and it was only when he slipped up and sent a letter to the Gracie’s mother that King had the lead he needed to track the killer down and ultimately bring him to justice.

Grace Budd is the little girl whose murder led to Fish's arrest.

Grace Budd

The text of the letter still exists, although I don’t know if the hard copy does.  I’m not going to reprint its content here – it’s too grotesque and disturbing.  If you feel the need to read it, check out Albert Fish’s Wikipedia entry.  In brief, he told Grace’s mother exactly what he did to the girl – how he strangled her then took nine days to eat her body.  In a bizarre twist, he ends the letter by reassuring the woman that her daughter died a virgin.   Grace’s mother was illiterate, so she had her son read her the letter.

Once he saw the letter, King was galvanized.  He resolved to stop the monster as soon as he could.  The letter was traced to the “New York Private Chauffeur’s Benevolent Association”.  A janitor who worked there confessed to have habitually taken association letterhead home to use as scratch paper.  He’d left some in two of the last locations he’d lived at.

King hit pay dirt at a flophouse on East 52nd Street, where the landlady remembered seeing a man who matched Fish’s description.  He’d asked her to hold a check is son had sent him.  The man wasn’t home at the time though, so King waited for his return.

Naturally, Fish returned while King slipped away for a few hours to do some paperwork down at the police station.  The landlady called King and offered Fish tea to stall for time.  King arrived to confront the beast: a small, thin old man with gray hair and a gray mustache.

While he looked docile enough sitting at the table with his tea, Fish soon showed his true colors by lunging at the detective with a razor blade.  King, however, wasn’t some powerless child – he disarmed and subdued Fish with little effort.  The reign of terror was over.

Fish was arrested and eventually tried for the murder of Grace Budd.  He pleaded innocent due to insanity and had several psychiatrists vouch for the fact that he was indeed insane.  He claimed that voices told him to kill.  He also confessed to several killings, and a number of rapes and molestations.

Despite the psychiatrists efforts, the jury found Fish both sane and guilty.  He was sentenced to death and summarily executed January 16, 1935.  When asked, Fish said that the execution would be “the supreme thrill of my life.”

Albert Fish is easily one of the most depraved killers I’ve ever come across since morbid curiosity brought me to start reading about serial killers.  His crimes are so disgusting, so outlandish, and so horrifying that it’s difficult to process how one human being could be so monstrous.  Some folks at the time said he was the devil incarnate.  I don’t believe that, but I’d say he was about as close as a human being can get.


In the Mind of the Beast: Clinical Lycanthropy

Credit: National Park ServiceImagine one day you wake up and something just feels off.  You can’t quite put your finger on what is wrong, it just feels like your body is changing, like your human form is going away and becoming something else entirely.  Something not quite human…

This is just a day in the life of sufferers of clinical lycanthropy. Lycanthropy is, in terms of mythology, is the supernatural condition where a man (or a woman) turns into a wolf or dog.  In the western tradition, we call such a beast a “werewolf.”  Other traditions have other such monsters, such as the “werejaguar” of Central American lore, and other variations that are categorized under the umbrella term “therianthrophy.”

Clinical lycanthropy is a the modern incarnation of the mythological tradition, and the scientific explanation many of the odd stories our ancestors told.  Despite the name, clinical lycanthropy is an umbrella term for any condition where a human being who holds the delusional belief that they have taken the form of an animal.  There are three diagnostic criteria for the disorder:  a patient reports – in a moment of lucidity – that sometimes they have felt like they were an animal, the patient behaves like an animal (growls, cries, grumbles, and creeps), and the patient may voice their belief that they’re an animal.

Crazy right?  Well…crazy isn’t the right word.  The technical word that should be used here is “delusional.”  Clinical lycanthropy is considered a form of psychoses, but oddly it isn’t associated with one specific mental illness.  Certainly it can be associated with delusional disorders like bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and clinical depression, but none of those have to be present for a person to suffer clinical lycanthropy.

What causes the condition? How can someone who doesn’t have a psychosis up and believe that they are a wolf (or a bear or a tiger or a cat)?  There isn’t any clear explanation, but for the moment it’s thought that the problem has to do with the section of the brain responsible for body image.  Our brain keeps an image of our body and how each part relates to each other part.  That’s how we can know, say, what our left hand is up to when our eyes are closed.  It’s also how we can do complex physical tasks without having to consciously think about or even see where our limbs are.  Clinical lycanthropy differs from Capgras delusion, which is thought to be caused by a malfunction of the facial recognition centers of the brain.

Now, imagine that your body imaging system goes completely out of whack and starts perceiving your limbs as those belonging to an entirely different species.  You wouldn’t just think “I’m a bee” – and yes one sufferer of clinical lycanthropy believed they were a bee – but you would feel like you had antennae, wings, a stinger, etc.  You wouldn’t just think that you’re a wolf – you would honestly feel like you had a tail, should walk on four legs, etc.

Welcome to a day in the life of a clinical lycanthropy sufferer.   Luckily, this is a rare disorder that is treatable with psychiatric drugs and therapy.  Still, it is rather spooky to realize that there are people out there that, according to their brains at least, are werewolves.


The Wolf Man (1941)

The Wolf Man (1941) is a classic werewolf film by Universal PicturesIn this the final entry of my month long project to review the Universal horror classics (with the exception of Frankenstein because for whatever reason it’s not available on the instant queue for the moment), I finally get to my favorite: The Wolf Man.

The 1941 classic starring Lon Chaney Jr. was the last of the Universal monster movies before they devolved into silly sequels.  The story revolves around Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney Jr.) who returns home to a small village in England upon hearing of his brother’s death in a hunting accident.  He is bitten by a wolf trying to save a villager, and is thus cursed to become a monster himself.

Lon Chaney Jr. is wonderful as the Wolf Man.  The fear and sadness Larry Talbot feels upon realizing that he is a monster is written all over his face, and you can’t help but feel sorry for the guy even though he is a monster.  I like that element of complexity to the story: Larry Talbot isn’t really a monster, but he is instead swept up into something that he can’t possibly understand or control.  How often in our own lives have we felt that way?  Like something has just swept in and taken all control without our desire or consent?

That’s one way to look at it at least.  Another (and more commonly held) view is that the Wolf Man represents the monster within us that is just waiting to get loose.  It’s even mentioned briefly in the movie, when Larry’s father tells him that there is evil inherent in the souls of all men and that it sometimes breaks free (that’s a rough paraphrase; I’m horrible at remembering exact quotations.)

Writing that reminded me of a wonderful scene towards the end of the movie, where Larry’s father tied Larry down to a chair as a way to prove to Larry that he was not a wolf man and that it couldn’t have been him that was out terrorizing the night.  Early in the movie, his father comments that they’re relationship isn’t what it could be, that they’ve been too reserved with one another and that they should be more open.  Well, later in the movie a desperate looking Larry Talbot, all sweaty and disheveled, calls his father “dad” almost like a child wanting his father to come and fix everything.  It was quite the poignant moment; not something you’d normally expect from a horror movie, either then or now.

The movie itself was well shot, with ample use of fog to enhance the mood of mystery and danger.  The monster itself was well done, and the scenes where Talbot transformed are entertaining in their own right. I’m always impressed by what they were capable of doing back in the days before CGI, and I often wish that we would return to those old school methods.

The Wolf Man is an iconic film and for good reason.  It’s a good example of what a werewolf film should be, I think.  There is complexity just under the surface, but at the same time it doesn’t get lost in its own world and lapse into pretentiousness.  It’s all around a fun, well shot movie with great actors and a classic story.  A must see!


Waxwork

The postor for Waxwork

“Stop on by and Give Afterlife a Try”

Now and then when the weekend comes and I need to recharge the old creative batteries, I do a movie binge.  I have a new idea for a book, and so I wanted to watch a few slasher films for inspiration.  Unfortunately for me, every one that I wanted to watch wasn’t on the Instant Queue on Netflix, but fortunately I did find Halloween in the $5 bin at Wal-Mart.  Once I finished Halloween, I was scanning through Netflix to find my next bit of horror to watch, and I came across Waxwork.

Waxwork is one of those “special” films, a film so bad that it’s actually pretty awesome.  The film follows a group of college students who visit a mysterious waxwork.  Each one of the displays contains a horror movie cliche (Dracula, the Wolf Man, an ax murderer, etc.)  One of the kids drops his lighter, and when he goes into the display after it, he is transported into a dark wood where he is attacked by a werewolf.  And so it goes for the other kids and the other displays.

This movie was never meant to be good.  It’s a B movie and is unapologetic about it.  It is however a nice homage to the horror movies of old; the sets are well made and the special effects are actually pretty good (this was before CGI by the way.)  I especially liked how Dracula was portrayed; he looked like a dude from the cover of a Harlequin, but still is as dangerous as a vampire should be.

Horror aficionados should definitely give this one a look.  If you liked Evil Dead and Scream, you’ll like Waxwork.

 

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