A Short Story for “National Tell a Fairy Tale Day”

Lucifer (1890) by Franz von Stuck

     It is ‘o munaciello who turns the house topsy turvy, puts the furniture in disarray, disturbs the heart, confuses the mind and fills it with fear. It is he, the tormented and tormenting spirit who brings chaos in his black habit, ruin in his black hood. It is ‘o Munaciello. ~ Matilde Serao, Neapolitan Legends (1881)

     While out having a coffee with a friend the other night, she had trouble finding her glasses in her pocketbook. Poking fun at her cluttered bag, I playfully suggested that the Munaciello had hidden them from her. An older gentleman sitting alone at the table beside us overheard our conversation and butted in: “What do you know of the Munaciello?”

     “He’s a mischievous house spirit—an imp,” I said, “the ghost of a young water carrier (pozzaro).”

      “The Munaciello is more than a prankster,” the old man said sternly, “and he’s real. This is no joking matter.”

     I nodded, hoping he would elaborate.

     Downing the rest of his espresso, he continued: “When I was a young boy, the Munaciello visited me in my family's garden.”

     “Where was this?” I interrupted.

     “Teggiano, provincia di Salerno.”

     “Sorry, please continue.”

The Dead Travel Fast (1839) by Émile Jean Horace Vernet

     “One evening, while digging up a few potatoes for dinner, it got unusually dark, and a ghostly figure dressed in a black habit and riding a black steed appeared out of nowhere and made a bloodcurdling neigh. Frozen with fright, I helplessly watched as the demon tromped on our vegetables, destroying everything around me. Suddenly, he disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.”

     “What did you do next?” I asked.

     “I ran home to tell my father what had happened. Armed with a spade, he returned with me and was shocked by the destruction.”

     “Did your father believe you?”

     “Of course,” he said, displeased with my question.

     “I always pictured the little devil to be a small, misshapen hunchback, reminiscent of John Henry Fuselli's The Nightmare." He was unfamiliar with the reference.

The Nightmare (1781) by John Henry Fuselli

     Recounting a story told to me by another man who was tripped and injured by the fiend on a mountain trail in Sanza, the old man listened intently. According to the victim, "The sallow-face brute wore a black hat and sat on a rock, grinning from ear to ear at his misfortune."

     “No,” said the gentleman. “Dressed all in black, he was imposing, with gleaming eyes and pale skin. His horse was dark as night.” Pausing for a moment, “I’ll never forget those terrible eyes, they pierced my soul.”

     I can't explain the discrepancy in appearances, but his harrowing description of the spirit reminded me more of Émile Jean Horace Vernet’s The Dead Travel Fast or Franz von Stuck’s Lucifer.

     Wishing us a good night, we thanked him for his story and he left.

     My friend found her glasses, and we continued with our date. After finishing our coffee, we learned that the talkative old gentleman had given us more than a story; he also paid for our drinks. Turning to my friend, "It would seem that the legends are true, and the Munaciello gives as much as he takes."

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, February 25, Feast of Santa Valburga, protectress from witchcraft and evil spirits