For many years, Krzeszów has been famous for tales of a mysterious devil who supposedly inhabits the local forests. Many of these stories are passed down from generation to generation, originating not only from long-time residents but also from children who grew up in the shadow of local legends. From mysterious footsteps in the forest to phenomenal silhouettes, the residents of Krzeszów recall their personal experiences of these extraordinary phenomena with a touch of unease. How does folklore influence the daily lives of residents, and what keeps these tales alive in their memories? This is a story from our listener, who wishes to remain anonymous.
I really enjoyed your series of programs about living folklore. So I decided to share a little about my hometown – Krzeszów – which has long been known for stories about the devil living there. Some of the stories are centuries old. Interestingly, even Isaac Bashevis Singer mentioned our local "fiend" in his story " The Fall of Krzeszów ."
In fact, almost every resident knows some strange, inexplicable story attributed to this entity. It's part of our everyday life – it's not a big deal, no one is particularly surprised. It's a bit like the town in King's novel " To" – everyone has heard something, seen something, but people take it calmly.
The most frequently reported stories include mysterious footsteps in the forest, instances of "confusion" (i.e., sudden disorientation), and various figures that people have allegedly seen, from a sinister black dog to... a dwarf. It's said that the devil has the ability to "mess with people's minds"—there's a small forest nearby that you can walk through in 10 minutes, yet people who knew him from childhood have sometimes gotten lost there and couldn't find their way out.My aunt, now very old but still in good physical and mental health, was born in 1928. She always told me not to walk home from school alone through the so-called "mountains" and forests. The devil was said to be especially active in these places. She claimed that once—as a child—she saw a strange, enormous dog there, which had no legs, but glided over the ground. Another time, she said she saw a human silhouette in the forest made of fog—like a shadow, a blurred human shape. One of my uncles, on the other hand, was walking back through the forest once and said he felt watched. He heard footsteps behind him, but when he turned around, no one was there. Only large footprints remained on the ground.
In this forest—or rather, woodland, as it's not large—many people have experienced the feeling of being followed. The woodland in question is a rectangle measuring approximately 100 by 300 meters. Despite its small size, some people have managed to get completely lost in it, even if they've been going there for years for walks or mushroom picking.
There are other local legends, too. For example, there's a story about a hill where you can hear a horse-drawn cart—even though there's no cart there. In another place, you can hear a child crying. When I was in elementary school, someone would tell the story that the devil had destroyed someone's garden—the crops were completely devastated, and the owner even claimed to have seen the perpetrator. Children (including me) were frightened by this story for years to come.
The stories are varied – some older, others newer. Many of them began to fade after the war, when people began to connect old legends with events from the occupation. Many accounts from that period are a mixture of folklore and actual experiences – it's difficult today to separate one from the other. But the stories have survived.
There are also very personal stories. I remember my aunt warning me not to walk home alone—not only because of the devil, but also because "all sorts of things happen there." And indeed, several members of my family experienced something inexplicable in that grove. Above all, a feeling of being lost—a complete disconnection from familiar space. For the locals, it's a clear sign that "something is out there."
Of course, I realize that many of these stories could have been written as a warning—to tell children not to wander alone in the woods, to avoid dangerous places. But still... there's something about these stories that's hard to ignore. They live on in people. And in some way, they endure.
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