Site Recommendation – Behind the Name

Hello, visitors! How are you all? Well, I hope!

Hope you’re all enjoying your current season! Right now, it’s fall where I am, and that means nice days, cooler nights, and rain, a lot of rain. That also means my favorite season is just around the corner. I can’t wait for winter!

For those right up there in the Northern Hemisphere (most of you), it’s spring, right? Hope you’re all enjoying it and excited for summer!

All pleasantries aside, I come here with a shorter post today, aimed at my fellow writers!

I don’t know about you all, but I have a plethora of plot ideas, sometimes (oftentimes) more than I know what to do with. But there’s one point in which writer’s block never fails to catch me – naming characters.

I know, lame, right? I can come up with several characters, traits, origin stories, personalities, etc, etc… and I can’t name them.

After suffering a lot, I decided to turn to Google for help with this predicament. And, as it often happens, Google has delivered.

Thus began my love story with Behind the Name. Simply put, it’s a website where you can generate random names for your characters. You get to pick from many origins, and some other bits, like Fantasy, Witch, etc. And, if you click one of the names, you get the origin and variations, which’s always good if you want to make a little change or just learn more about your chosen name. It’s definitely worth a read for those who enjoy giving their character meaningful names or just, like me, struggle with naming them.

There you go, that was what I had to share for today. Just one of the many tools in my ‘lazy-ass writer’ toolbox. I hope you enjoy it and it fills a need if there’s one!

Now, how about you share your tools with me? Do you have any site you use for this kind of block? I’d love to hear all about it in the comments!

Many blessings, and see you on the next post!

Why I write about abusive relationships

Hello, visitors! How are you all? Well, I hope!

Here we come again, with the second weekend post! I really want to start posting more often, but it’s not in the cards for now. Soon, who knows?

Since the jury’s still out on whether or not I’ll be able to post more often than the weekends, let’s move on to the actual post, shall we?

The title to this post refer to a question I’m often asked. Jay, why do you write about abusive relationships in your solo stories, and some collective ones?

The question has been asked many times by many people, and it does make sense, so I thought I’d answer it here, before this becomes a bigger misunderstanding than I would like to see.

First things first: I don’t find abusive relationships ‘cool’, ‘romantic’, ‘cute’ or anything of the sort. They’re disgusting, scary, and not even remotely romantic. Period.

If I don’t find it anywhere near nice or romantic, why do I write about it? In one word, catharsis. 

I have been involved in an (emotionally) abusive relationship, not too long ago. It was a long distance one, but it nearly destroyed me. It was everything I  mentioned above. It was disgusting. It was scary, having me in fear of saying or doing the wrong thing at all times. It wasn’t even remotely romantic. It was the worst thing that could have happened to me, and, for a while, I thought it was all my fault.

And, despite the fact that it has been almost four years since I broke off contact, I have yet to recover. Simple things, like hearing the same name my abuser had, or hearing things that remind me of him, still give me a brief moment of panic. When I’m out and about, sometimes I still catch myself picking up my phone to report to him if anything in my routine changes. 

I can’t turn back the clock and make different choices. I have to move forward. The future is all I have. But writing helps. In writing, I can make different choices. I can push back and say ‘no’. I can move on sooner, instead of letting myself be turned into an empty shell of a woman.

So, that’s why I write about abusive relationships. Because it helps me heal.

Well, there you go, visitors. That’s my reason. What about you? Does any of my fellow writers have one time they use writing as a therapy for? Does it work? Has it helped you? Have you felt any difference at all?

I would love to know the answer, along with any questions or suggestions, in the comments! Stay strong!

Many blessings, and see you on the next post!

Character Profile: Abigail Thames

Hello, visitors! How are you all? Well, I hope!

Here I come again with another weekend post. I’m trying to be serious about this, so let’s do the thing!

Today I come here with another character profile. I promise the next post will be different, don’t worry!

Today, as I did last weekend, I’ll post the profile of one of my favorite characters. Since I can’t post all of them here (I would love to, but my memory is not all that great, and I’ve had many over the years), I’ll select the ones I love the most and share them with you all.

Content warning: This story deals with loss, mental illness, possible incest and (attempted) sexual abuse. You have been warned, proceed at your own risk.

General information

Name: Abigail Thames

Age: 28 years old

Appearance: I tend to use Sienna Miller as her representation. I once wrote a younger version of her, and the depiction for this one was Kirsten Prout.

Personality: While my previous character is very private and kept to herself, this one is as open as one can be. She’s gregarious, generous, and always looking out for other people. Her main goal in life is to support others – family, friends, strangers, it doesn’t matter. If anyone needs help (or if she has decided that they do), she’s willing to offer it.

Family: Parents (deceased), adoptive brother, Yakim Thames, alive, had an unborn daughter last time I played her.

Significant other: Currently none, since she’s not being written. On her last installment, she was involved with her adoptive brother.

Personal history:

Abigail was born into a wealthy (old money) family. Her father spent most of his time traveling for work, and her mother stayed at home with her, even though this was not the life she wanted, and it showed. From an early age, Abigail knew not to bother her mother, and became very self-sufficient early on in her life. 

When Abby was six, her father brought a baby home from one of his trips. He had named the child Yakim, upon request by the boy’s mother, who had died in childbirth. He told his wife and daughter that they would take the baby in and raise him as their own.

The reactions were vastly different. Abby’s mother was upset, while Abby was delighted, and fell in love with the baby right away, promising she would take care of his every need. 

And that she did, as her mother was basically indifferent to the baby. Despite being so young, Abby managed to care for her new little brother. She would feed him, keep him clean to the best of her ability, and keep him with her whenever she was not in school. 

As she became older, and so did he, she taught yer little brother how to walk, taught him how to talk (his first word being an attempt at her name), and kept on protecting him as much as she could.

Her time with her brother wouldn’t be too long, though. When Yakim was six, Abby’s father took him to study in his mother’s home country, where he could be educated as she had planned. As there was a great distance between them, communication for the following years was only through letters, and then phone calls when the boy became older.

That was the state of affairs for the next twelve years. Both of Abby’s parents passed away (her father in suspicious circumstances, and her mother killed herself not long after), and she tried to move on as well as possible with her life, going to college, and then devoting her life to taking care of her home and helping others who needed her services – with out without payment.

Keeping such a busy life, Abigail hadn’t properly forgotten all about her brother, but he had become just a thought in her mind, until he came back home, now as a man.

She tried to love him as she had before – with the pure love a sister would offer. But things got derailed quickly into a different kind of love. She was still interested in keeping him happy and safe, but there was no pretending he was still that little boy.

Once their relationship solidified, and he moved away into a ranch for work, she moved with him, as it wouldn’t make any sense for her to stay in a different home all the time. The ranch was big enough, near enough to the city that she could drive there, and there was plenty for her to do.

Life in the ranch was happy and peaceful until a young man was taken in. He was injured, and didn’t have a home to go to, so Abby automatically fell into her usual maternal role. She fed the boy, helped him get cleaned up and showed him to a bedroom where he could sleep, as she was the one in charge at the moment.

Being alone with her in the house, the boy started getting ideas. He broke into her bedroom – her lover wasn’t in the house at the moment – and tried at first to convince her to sleep with him. As she didn’t want to – obviously -, the attempt turned into a chase through the property, ending in a river somewhat far from the house, where he tried to drown her into submission. 

Things were on that point (note: this was probably the most difficult scene I have ever written, to the point where I had to go to bed feeling ill after it – no regrets, though) when her lover, coming back from somewhere and – thank her lucky stars – passing nearby, heard her scream for help.

The next scene was also a pretty tense one, as the two men ended up battling it out to the (boy’s) death, which, obviously, created a mountain of legal problems, trauma for everyone involved, and just a huge mess (physically and metaphorically) to be cleaned up.

The legal mess was still being cleaned up, and Abby had shortly found out the baby she got pregnant with not too long after the event was a girl, but, sadly, the roleplay fizzled out and died before the whole situation could be fixed.

Oof, that was a long one. I think I may have gotten a little carried away,  but Abby is one of my favorite characters, if not my all time favorite. She’s just got such a great personality, and is so open and bright, even after all she had been through in life. I really miss writing her, but, sadly, my latest attempts haven’t been successful.

Who knows, I might get lucky one day. Or, with the amount of emotional weight this lady carries, she might be better off as a sweet memory.

Oh, well. I think I’ve written enough for a day, eh? If WordPress is not lying, I have hit over 1,100 words. That’s well enough for a post, so I guess I should wrap this up here.

Before I go, though: if you have any questions, suggestions, or want to tell me I’m insane (who knows?), the comments are here for that!

Many blessings, and see  you on the next post!

Character Profile: Mackenzie Blackburn

Hello, visitors! How are  you all? Well, I hope!

As promised a few posts ago, here I come back with another weekend post! I really wish I could post more often, but sadly time doesn’t allow for that right now. We’ll see about that in the future.

For now, I’ll just shoot out another completely useless post, because you know… that’s what I do, right?

Today’s post is a character profile. I have loads of these, so some of them will probably make their way here to the blog. If I were to put all of mine here, I would have material for years, but I would have to put several undeveloped characters up, so I’ll just pick out some of the best developed ones, or the ones I care more deeply about.

Before I get started, I’m going to leave a warning here: this story deals with rape, murder and abuse in general. If you do not like reading about these themes, please stop here. Thank you.

General information

Name: Mackenzie Blackburn

Age: 22 years old

Appearance: I tend to use Kaya Scodelario as her visual representation. The main difference is that Mackenzie has her back entirely scarred, deriving from childhood abuse.

Personality: Mackenzie is a very guarded person. She’s kind and generous, but quite suspicious of most people around her, especially men, due to her past life. She has a hard time trusting people, especially strangers, but, once she befriends someone, she’ll be by that person’s side through thick and thin.

Family: N/A

Significant other: Currently, Nicola Bianchi, as she is currently involved in an ongoing story.

Personal history:

Mackenzie was born to unknown people, and left at a catholic home for orphans. She lived there up until she was eight, learning the basics of reading, writing, and singing in the church choir. At eight, she was adopted by a couple, from which she got her surname, Blackburn. 

Her adopted mother, as housewife, was a kind, but weak-willed lady. Her father, a car mechanic, was an abusive and brutal man. When Mackenzie was thirteen, her mother, who was the main target to his rage, left home, leaving her daughter behind. 

From then on, Mackenzie replaced her mother as the target of her father’s abuse, being physically, emotionally and sexually abused on a daily basis, resulting on the several scars she has on her back, and even worse emotional ones.

When Mackenzie was sixteen, tired of being abused, Mackenzie snapped. She was working on a car, when her father told her to wash up nicely after work because he would want to ‘talk’ to her. She lost her cool and grabbed the nearest tool, attacking the man on a murderous rage. Once done with her ‘job’, she ran away from the house, being picked up pretty easily by a police car, and spending the next few years incarcerated, before being granted a suspended sentence, as she was very young and acting under emotional distress and abuse.

Once released, Mackenzie moved out of her native Texas to start a new life in Titus, a lower class area, where she found a job at a garage and rented a small apartment, hoping for a quiet life.

That’s where her roleplay history begins.

To list all of the events that have happened in this story would be too long. So, I will let you guys know where my lovely girl is now:

  • She is living with a man she has tried everything not to fall in love with, but fell hard – and he fell for her just as hard;
  • She is being threatened by his father and brother – his father, because he thinks she has brainwashed his son into turning his back on his (Mafia involved) family. And his brother, because he has devoted his life to taking everything away from Nicola;
  • She is getting along famously with his mother and sisters, and feeling like she may become an actual part of a family for the first time;
  • She has an engagement ring on her finger;
  • She has a baby on the way – but she doesn’t know it yet.

All in all, she is very happy right now. The future will tell what is still on her path. Maybe I’ll fill out an update some day!

Many blessings, and see you on the next post!


On collaborative writing

Hello, visitors! How are you all? Well, I hope!

Here I come again to talk to you about random matters, as usual! So, without too much rambling on my part today, let us go straight to the theme of today’s post, shall we?

So, those who have been reading around the blog (are you there? Don’t be shy, I don’t bite!) probably already know I have a passion for writing. I would say writing is seriously the love of my life, along with reading.

As you can see from this blog – even though it’s still a somewhat new project -, I’m not shy at all about writing solo. I actually enjoy it, it’s fun, liberating, relaxing, and – oddly enough – not really stressful. That might be because I do this blogging thing as a hobby, but it is really a fun and relaxing thing for me to do.

Still, there’s another kind of writing that really pleases me as well, and one that I do even more often than I post here on the blog, and that is collaborative writing. 

What is collaborative writing, you ask? Why, thank you for asking, voice in my head, you are so helpful when I’m writing a blog post.

Collaborative writing is basically what the name says. You collaborate with a person, or several people, in order to create a story, or a world and a story within this world. It is also known in the online world as roleplaying – not the kind people do behind a bedroom door.

How does it work?

Well, that is a pretty broad question. Since it is a hobby, it can work in several ways.

People can do it in person, what we call tabletop roleplaying. Sadly, I don’t really have the time or space to join in on one of these, as I live in a smaller city where there are no regular groups I can join.

People can do it still in person, by enacting the roleplay’s scenes. This is known as LARPing, or Live Action Role Playing. It’s a fun type of roleplay I have tried once or twice, but it does take a lot of time and work in order for it to happen. A place has to be picked out, the people involved need to be somewhat carefully picked out as well – as they are going to be in a public or private setting with others -, and rules must be set. It can be a lot of fun if everyone involved follows the rules and has enough creativity to think on their feet.

And then we move to the third kind, the one I’m going to approach here: online roleplaying via text.

Even this can be done in several ways, basically either in real time or through other means.

In real time, from what I’ve seen (I’m not really into real time roleplaying), people have been using mostly Discord nowadays. Some use Facebook messenger, and some still use Skype or Hangouts, from what I’ve gathered. Nothing wrong with it, it’s just not my cuppa.

In other means of communication – aka, not in real time -, you have e-mails, forums, tumblr, etc.

I can only speak of what I’m familiar with, so I’ll mention only e-mail roleplay and forum roleplay.

I have been doing forum roleplays for a few years, and I really have fun with them. I like spending time on forums, getting to know the communities, and just creating stories with people.

I also really enjoy roleplaying via e-mail. To be honest, it’s my favorite form of roleplaying at the moment. It’s more relaxing, I don’t feel pressured into rushing into posting, etc. 

But Jay, how do  you find partners if you prefer to write via e-mail?

Thank you for asking, voice in my head. Once again, you are so helpful and kind. Well, I often find my partners via roleplay advertising forums, or good ol’ reddit. From then on, we chat up – via e-mail or Discord – and start writing. Simple as that.

Via forums, you have to do a little bit more work – join a new forum, or create your own, advertise, etc, etc. Not that it’s not fun, but it’s just… a little bit work-intensive, and I really don’t want to do any more work than I have to. I do run a small forum, though, but it’s basically extremely laid-back, with just a handful of people building stories together within a fictional small town.

I have joined a few forums as well, and even staffed on forums I don’t own, but it’s mostly just way too much work to do in order to roleplay. There is drama sometimes, there are unreasonable demands, there’s having a hard time getting someone to talk to me, let alone write with me… perhaps I’ll share the ‘horror’ stories (while not revealing names) some day. Who knows?

Until I do, though, I’ll just close this one off for now, as I believe I have talked – er, written – enough.

If you have any questions, suggestions, or things you’d like to see me post about in the future, let me know in the comments!

Many blessings, and see you on the next post!

The legend of the boto

Hello, visitors!

How are you all? Well, I hope!

Here I am again, with a little post about Brazilian folklore. I have many more where this one came from!

Today, we are going to learn – well, you’re gonna learn, I already know it! – about the legend of the boto.

But Jay, what is a boto? 

A boto is a kind of dolphin, specifically, that lives in fresh waters (rivers). They used to be very common in the Amazonas river, but are now an endangered species. You can see a picture of them below.

Source: Wikimedia Commons

All right, there they are. Aren’t they lovely?

But wait – I can hear you saying in my head -, how are they part of the folklore? Aren’t they real?

Yes, helpful voice in my head, the boto is a real animal, indeed. And a part of our folklore, because there is a very interesting legend connected to it.

This legend is very common in the Northern Region of Brazil (near the Amazonas river, where the boto is still a somewhat common presence).

The legend says that the boto is a shape-shifter. It morphs into a very handsome man, and this man is usually seen in parties, flirting with single women. It is said he looks like an ordinary man, with the marked difference that he never removes his hat – to hide the blowhole, which would not disappear when the boto changes.

During these parties, the mystery man chooses a woman, seduces her and has intercourse with her, impregnating the unsuspecting woman and leaving – going back to the water – to never be seen again, leaving the woman as a single mother. These were called the “children of the boto”, as a way of saying they were fatherless children, and probably as a way of protecting the single mothers from retaliation.

This is a very interesting legend, in my opinion. Nowadays, it has become less frequent as an excuse, but it used to be very commonly used as a reason for a pregnancy without a known father years ago. The legend was actually so famous a movie was made about it in 1987 – you can read about it in English here on IMDb.

And with that, I finish the post for today! I hope you have found this legend interesting.

If there is anything you’d like me to talk about in the future, I’ll be happy to oblige! Share it with me in the comments, will you?

Many blessings, and see you on the next post!

Monthly update: March 2018

Hello, visitors! How are you? Well, I hope!

Before I begin: this is not an April’s Fools post. Just in case.

As promised, I’m here with a quick update on my monthly writing goals. 

This month was a little more irregular than most, as I have been very busy and also away from home for a few days on a trip with the parents (check my previous post for details on that), but it was actually a pretty decent one.

March goal: 31,000 words (to the original plan of 1,000 words per day)

Words written in March: 43,416. I’m not putting in an average, as my daily writing varies wildly, and I haven’t written anything at all on the 29th, last day I was out of town.

Well… I guess that’s it. It wasn’t really much for today, but it’s Sunday, it’s 9 PM, and… I’m lazy. I’ll do better next weekend (or maybe I’m lying because it’s April’s Fools).

Many blessings, and see you on the next post!


Finally back home

Hello, visitors! How are you all? Well, I hope!

I’m extremely happy to announce that I’m back home! Now, don’t get me wrong – traveling is great, and this particular one was a lovely trip. But even seeing a new place and staying at a beautiful hotel… there is no place like home.

With that out of the way, I thought I’d quickly sum up the experience before moving on to more interesting themes, because why not, right?

Monday, the 26th

I’ve worked normally on Monday, as we were traveling late at night (cheaper and we get more time in the actual place, since we’re already there in the early morning), and then my dad picked me up so we could all get a cab out of their home. 

When we got to the airport, it looked pretty sad and dull, even though it was around nine something – our flight was scheduled to a bit later than eleven. We hung out, ate, and just… strolled there until boarding, as there wasn’t much to do or see.

The flight was short and peaceful. I confess I was really stressed because I was seated by a stranger and there was a lady with a baby not too far away from me. The baby did cry a little during take off, but she managed to calm him down, and we had a pretty quiet flight.

Tuesday, the 27th

We got to the airport in Porto Seguro at about 47 past midnight, and there was someone from the travel agency waiting for us already. He let us know we had gotten upgraded to a different, better hotel, at no cost. Dad and I didn’t mind it, as we’re pretty easy going. Mom, though, started complaining right away and complained all the way to the (lovely) hotel and, in the room, all the way up until we finally settled down and got to bed at about 2 in the morning.

20180327_081334A picture of our hotel, taken from the breakfast table

After we got a good night’s sleep, we got up and went to have breakfast before taking a city tour. We had a meeting with a guide from the agency to schedule our other plans for the days we would be there, and then off we went. 

We got a lot of history on how the place was founded, visited historical buildings, and all that good stuff. I won’t go into detail here, otherwise I’d spend three days typing this post. Maybe I’ll do it in the future, time allowing it.

20180327_123658Picture taken during the city tour

After the tour ended, we went back to the hotel and left only to have dinner and explore our surroundings,  before getting back in to rest for the second day of activities.

Wednesday, the 28th

On Wednesday, we took a trip to Arraial D’Ajuda, a district within the city of Porto Seguro. The trip consisted of three parts – a visit to Taípe Beach (note: Taípe is an indigenous word that means turtle, as the beach is known for being frequented by many sea turtles, both in the water and on land to lay their eggs), lunch on the beach, and then a visit to the village of Arraial D’Ajuda itself.


Taípe Beach

A bit of history. Local tradition says there was a time a long time ago when the village was suffering from a shortage in drinking water. A lumberjack who worked around the area found something on his way to work. It was an image of Nossa Senhora D’Ajuda (Our lady the helper, in free translation). He took it home, put it in a drawer and went to sleep. In the morning, he went to the drawer and the image was gone. Since he had to go to work, he didn’t spend too  much time looking around and left. Lo and behold, the image was at the same time he had originally found it. He took it again, and the same thing happened the next day. He then figured out that the saint wanted to stay where she was, and a chapel was built there. And, during the process of building it, they found clean water not too far from the place. Of course, I can’t claim it’s true – or not -, but this is the general idea behind the current name of the village.

20180328_143724The small village of Arraial D’Ajuda (feat. my parents)

20180328_143837Behind the church, where people tie those ribbons and pray for a ‘grace’, something they really want to see happen in their lives

After visiting the village, we went home to prepare for the last – and, in my opinion, best – of our days in there.

Thursday, the 29th

On our last day in Porto Seguro. The first part of the trip was a visit to an indigenous village. The people who live there are the Pataxó, and they were extremely welcoming. Sadly, I didn’t really take pictures, as I was too involved in learning about their culture and participating in the activities – face painting, dancing, listening to lectures and participating in some sports, such as throwing the tacape (a kind of spear used for hunting) and going on a tug-of-war match with the local ladies, which we obviously lost, but had a lot of fun – to stay glued to my phone.

After the activities, we tried fish they roast inside a palm – which was delicious, by the way -, and then went down for lunch (the reservation is up a very steep hill, but 100% worth the hike up there).

Lunch was at a Brazilian steak house, and excellent, though I just nibbled on some meat, as I wasn’t feeling well. Still worth it, and it was covered by our package (except for drinks and dessert, but we didn’t really spend a lot on those).

After lunch, we went to the Discovery Memorial, where we heard about when the Portuguese came to Brazil, then saw replica of paintings, Portuguese tiles and maps, and then we visit a replica of a caravela, the kind of ship they have brought here.

20180329_145056Replica of the caravela

After visiting the replica of the caravela and hearing a little about how things worked in there – how they slept, and how they disposed of their waste, etc, we went down to a replica of an indigenous home, called an oca, where there are some utensils, pictured below. I apologize if any of the pictures is not too good, as they (and all other pictures here) were taken on my phone.


20180329_14542520180329_14541220180329_145420Pictures taken of the utensils made and used by local natives

After this visitation, we went back to the hotel, and, as we were all too tired to go out, had dinner in the hotel and waited to come home.

So, that’s the end of the long and amazing saga of me taking three days off of work to travel with my parents.

It was tiring as hell. My legs still hurt. My right arm hurts from the tug of war. My right leg is scraped from being dragged on the floor.

And I loved every bit of it.

Many blessings, and see you on the next post!

Becoming a weekend blogger

Hello, visitors!

How are you all? Well, I hope!

I’m just dropping by here to announce a quick change before I ride off into the sunset for a few days away from my laptop!

I know I haven’t been really consistent in my posting schedule, and it sucks. Life has been very busy lately, and I only have time to breathe over the weekend. Therefore, this will be my new posting schedule. I will try for one post per weekend now, but maybe I can even do two, if I have the time.

Once I have a better schedule, or a little more free time, I will definitely revise that.

Many blessings, and see you when I get back home!

The headless mule

Headless Mule (I do not own the image, if you do and would like me to remove it, please do contact me)

Hello, visitors! How are you? Well, I hope!

Today I come here, once again, to talk about random matters. I also come here with a slight change to the theme. I’m not sure I’ll keep it as it is yet, but, for now, this new color scheme will be staying. I’m more than open to suggestions if you’d like to share them, thank you!

With that out of the way, let us move on to the theme I’ve set for today’s post, shall we?

The headless mule, or mula sem cabeça in Portuguese, is a creature of the Brazilian folklore.

She – yes, it’s a she – could be placed in the category of cursed creatures, just like the werewolf (which I will probably be discussing in the future). 

Her curse derives from the sin of being a mistress to a priest (a Catholic priest, bound by the Church to celibacy). According to the myth, the woman who commits this sin becomes cursed, and changes into the creature, sometimes from Thursday sunset to to Friday sunrise, or, in some places, during the full moon.

It is said she will run through seven crossroads during her time as the beast, or spend the entire night as such, and that she will turn into her other form much in the same way the werewolf does (I will definitely be touching the Brazilian legends regarding werewolves in a future post). 

To break the curse, one has to either remove her harness or wound her badly enough to draw blood. She will then turn back into her human form, and remain a regular woman as long as the person who has broken the curse lives in the same area. Should the person move away, the woman will again become the cursed creature. An alleged way of preventing the curse is for the lover (the priest) to curse his mistress seven times before Mass.

Alternative versions:

There is one version that says that the woman who loses her virginity before marriage becomes a headless mule.

Another version claims the headless mule was a queen who used to leave her home at nights, and come back hours later. One night, her husband followed her to see where she was going, and found her at the local cemetery, eating the dead body of a child. Once she was found out, she let out a terrifying scream and morphed into the monster.

The legend of the headless mule is very old. The first written reports date from the Middle Ages, and, even then, it held much of the original ideas I have presented above, with only slight changes here and there, mostly due to the the legend being passed from place to place. Unlike other legends, I have yet to hear someone currently saying they have seen it. It still remains very interesting, and a part of our very rich folklore.

Some researchers say the origin of the legend – which has never been confirmed – comes straight from the Catholic Church itself, as a means of controlling the believers and putting the fear of a terrible fate in their hearts should they sin against the established rules. This has been unconfirmed, though, mostly due to it being a very old myth and originally passed down through word of mouth, to the point where its origin was lost in time.

Well, I guess I have said enough for now about this bit of folklore, haven’t I? If there are any questions you have, please do post them in the comments, and I’ll be happy to answer!

Many blessings, and see you on the next post!