tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91956884660273906212024-03-08T05:03:14.619+01:00Viennese Legendsretold by Ingrid ProhaskaElla or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-13861402056638389602012-04-21T18:17:00.001+02:002012-04-22T19:00:08.773+02:00The Cock of Saint Stephen's Cathedral<div style="text-align: left;">
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At the end of the 15th century a brave and smart knight lived in Vienna. His name was Kaspar von Schlezer and he had a confidential position at the court of Emperor Maximilian I.. Kaspar was married to a very beautiful and warm hearted woman. The couple was well known for their extraordinary happiness.<br />
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One day Emperor Maximilian I. told his loyal knight to travel to Constantinople to bring the Sultan an important message.<br />
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Kaspar was worried that he was just chosen to make the dangerous travel that someone else could get his wife. Kaspar’s wife was afraid that she could lose her beloved husband on that long and dangerous travel.<br />
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But however – he had to go.<br />
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The day came when they had to say Goodbye to each other. The wife placed a silver crucifix around Kaspar’s neck. The consecrated cross should protect her beloved husband from need and danger.<br />
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After a long journey Kaspar arrived at the Sultan’s residence and handed over the important dispatch.<br />
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The brave knight was already on his way back home when he was attacked by bandits. He was captured and sold as a slave.<br />
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Many years of hard work followed for the nobleman. Only the silver crucifix which he could hide from the robbers gave him hope that he would regain his freedom one day.<br />
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Year after year went by. At home the wife mourned for the lost one. After five years she gave in the pressure of society, gave up her hope of the reunion and decided to become engaged to her husband’s friend.<br />
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When they began to prepare the wedding, Kaspar had a very strange dream: He saw his wife standing at the altar of St. Stephen’s where she just got married to his friend Knight von Merkenstein. At the end of his nightmare a soft voice whispered, “There is still time to prevent this marriage.”<br />
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Bathed in sweat Kaspar awoke. In his despair he cried out, “I must be in Vienna tomorrow. I would give my soul to the devil if this were the only way to make this possible.”<br />
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In that moment the devil himself stood in front of him. And - he had a cock with him. “This fowl will take us to Vienna, but I want your soul for that.”<br />
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The desperate man agreed under the condition that he wouldn’t awake during the entire flight; otherwise Satan shouldn’t get power over his soul. The devil nodded with a satanic grin.<br />
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Then both devil and knight sat on the back of the cock. Secretly the nobleman touched the silver crucifix on his chest and gave his life in God’s hands. Then he fell asleep.<br />
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The cock took off and raced with its heavy load to the west.<br />
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As morning dawned St. Stephen’s was already in sight. Full of joy the cock followed its nature and let out a loud “doodle-doo”. But – the crowing of the cock wakened Kaspar.<br />
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So the devil had lost Kaspar’s soul. Loudly cursing the bogey threw the knight and the cock into the Danube. Then the bad guy went furiously down to hell.<br />
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Fishermen pulled the two out of the river and so Kaspar von Schlezer could arrive at St. Stephen’s in time. Happily he hugged his wife.<br />
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In gratitude to the cock which freed him from slavery and brought him back to Vienna in time Kaspar von Schlezer let make an iron cock for the roof of St. Stephen’s Cathedral. The cock is still there. Not only as a reminder of the devil ride in medieval times; it also serves as protection from the devil, who can carry out his misdeeds only till the cock’s crow at dawn.<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /><br />Copyright © 2012 Ingrid Prohaska</span><i></i><i></i><br />
_<br />
<br />Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-83688511500363107732012-02-11T16:00:00.000+01:002012-02-21T14:00:08.723+01:00The Tree of Lamentation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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It was in the middle of 13th century when a terrible disease broke out in Vienna.<br />
It spread around rapidly and disfigured people in a horrible way. No one knew a remedy for the plague and so people who were infected were brought to a hospice outside the town.<br />
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This infirmary was located near to a chapel dedicated “To the good Saint Job”; next to the small church stood a beautiful big linden tree. This place was haunted by the so called “lament”; a restless spirit who sang their songs of lamentation out of the treetop at night.<br />
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These laments sounded so eerie that people were afraid to be in this area in the dark and the patients of the hospice complained about nocturnal sleep disturbance. Finally the people of the neighbourhood asked the hospice’s priest to relieve them from the terrifying lament with prayers and invocations.<br />
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In the following night the priest took crucifix and holy water and went to the mysterious tree accompanied by a group of people. As they came closer they clearly heard the wailing tones. No doubt – a haunted soul held here their gruesome complaints.<br />
The clergy’s companions halted. Only the priest proceeded to the spooky tree.<br />
Louder and louder sounded the plaintive - eerie alien and yet human.<br />
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A ray of moonlight pierced the clouds and threw its light on a shadowy figure. Immediately the priest picked up his crucifix, sprinkled holy water and with trembling voice he recited his incantations.<br />
And lo and behold the plaintive tones they had heard previously stopped instantly.<br />
Instead the concerned bystanders saw that the eerie dark figure seemed to take the priest and disappeared with him behind the chapel.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XCGPh8JYx9E/TzADepEZdAI/AAAAAAAAA_s/ty59-8S9qnk/s1600/Vienna+c1490.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="2" height="250" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XCGPh8JYx9E/TzADepEZdAI/AAAAAAAAA_s/ty59-8S9qnk/s200/Vienna+c1490.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Vienna c.1490</span></td></tr>
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The companions waited for the return of the clergy. But after a while they went home depressed and convinced that the ghost had taken their priest.<br />
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The next day a smiling priest was back.<br />
He told the concerned that the odd sounds hadn’t come from any kind of ghost. A singing knight whose name he had promised not to tell had performed his lamentations about the prevalent disease. The lonely linden tree so the knight thought was the perfect place to express his pain.<br />
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But although the laments weren’t heard anymore the people didn’t believe the priest’s words; they thought he had allied with the ghost and had persuaded the restless soul to move to another place.<br />
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Since that incident the hospice was known as “To the Tree of Lamentation” (in German “Zum Klagbaum”). The name remained until the institution was closed.<br />
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Still today an alley of Vienna’s 4th district is named Klagbaumgasse which reminds of the eerie melodies of the lamenting tree.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />Copyright © 2012 Ingrid Prohaska</span><br />
<i><br /></i><i>Special thanks to the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for including this legend in their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2012/02/20/fc52-zombie-pie/" target="_blank">'FlashCast 52 - Zombie Pie'</a> !</i><br />
_Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-13566538247832630722012-01-23T15:58:00.000+01:002012-04-21T17:32:06.166+02:00The Devil in the Mirror<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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In 1510 a pretty young lady lived in Vienna. Her name was Clara. She led a free and unbridled life. For hours she made up her face and couldn’t stop admiring herself in the mirror.<br />
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One day the girl became very sick and when she felt that bad that she was close to die she promised in her prayers to change her dissolute life if only she would recover.<br />
The prayers helped and after a short time she was completely healthy again.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H_y5icUT1fY/Tx10kJvLoII/AAAAAAAAA_c/0EUEE-TAPTI/s1600/Der_Teufel_im_Spiegel_colored.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H_y5icUT1fY/Tx10kJvLoII/AAAAAAAAA_c/0EUEE-TAPTI/s320/Der_Teufel_im_Spiegel_colored.jpg" width="221" /></a>But the good resolutions were forgotten quickly and soon she was back in front of her mirror and looked at herself full of pride. She powdered her face white, dyed her eyebrows to black and painted her mouth red.<br />
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One day engrossed in painting her face Clara heard a soft crackling of glass. She held her ear close to the mirror surface. Clearly she could hear a faint crackling. She looked for cracks in the glass but – what she saw now scared her a lot - she noticed that her face was no longer visible.<br />
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The surface was completely empty.<br />
Surprised she wiped her hand over the mirror. Suddenly she felt held by an overpowering force detaining her. At the same moment a distorted sardonic grinning devil’s face stared at Clara out of her mirror.<br />
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Anxiously and desperately she cried, “I will not be vain anymore and I promise to live modestly and piously!”<br />
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But it was too late for promises. The devil jumped out of the mirror, grabbed Clara by her hair, turned her head around till her face was black as coal and took her down to hell.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />Copyright © 2012 Ingrid Prohaska</span><br />
<i><br /></i><i>Special thanks to the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for including this legend in their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2012/01/26/fc51-short-people/" target="_blank">'FlashCast 51 - Short People'</a> !<br /><br />_</i>Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-41712351627731923892012-01-13T19:32:00.002+01:002012-01-13T19:32:45.809+01:00The Golden Well<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In times of medieval Vienna when the town was surrounded by defensive walls there was a tavern outside but close to the town in an area which is still known as Leopoldstadt and part of the second district today. This tavern had the name “To the Golden Well”.<br />
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The inn was situated on an important road which led to Prague and Brno. Many merchants, coachmen and hikers had their rest there.<br />
The innkeeper and his wife were happy with their doing and they could live in modest prosperity.<br />
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But one day war broke out, pestilences haunted the population and traders stayed away. Fewer and fewer people came to the inn and finally the owners had to borrow money to keep their house.<br />
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The situation was getting worse and so the faithful innkeeper’s wife decided to make a pilgrimage to the state of Mother Mary. She went to St. Stephen’s church and begged on her knees for Virgin Mary’s help.<br />
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Mother Mary heard the prayers and whispered to the faithful woman, “Don’t worry anymore my child, go home again and scoop water for the horses out of your house well and you’ll find a gold coin on the bottom of every bucket. But don’t take out more water than the animals need.”<br />
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The happy landlady thanked Mother Mary and hurried home. She told her husband about the prophecy. When it was time to water their horses they took two buckets of water from the well, and they really found the promised gold coins.<br />
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From now on the misery had an end. Step by step the couple could pay back their debts; and with the next gold coins they renovated their tavern.<br />
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But as it is in the nature of some people the landlord became greedy. He wanted more of those gold coins and so one night he sneaked off to the well and scooped a bucket of water.<br />
<br />He emptied the water carelessly on the floor and looked for the gold coin. But there was no gold coin. Once more he lowered the bucket into the well, but again – no piece of gold.<br />
<br />Sadly he realized that he had violated Mother Mary’s instructions and so it came that the wealth-generating source dried up.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright © 2012 Ingrid Prohaska</span><i><br /><br /></i><i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for including this legend in their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2012/01/10/fc49-the-new-florida/" target="_blank">'FlashCast49 - The New Florida'</a> !<br /><br />_</i>Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-34006862587957311572011-12-21T13:27:00.000+01:002011-12-21T13:27:28.004+01:00"Silent Night" - the legend about the origin of a Christmas carol<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<br />
Since Christmas is coming soon I thought I’ll take you out of Vienna this time and we travel to the countryside to Oberndorf in Salzburg about three hundred kilometres west of Vienna.<br />
And I’ll tell you<br />
<br />
<b>a legend about the origin of a Christmas carol – the carol “Silent Night”</b><br />
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We write the year 1818. Oberndorf which is located by the Salzach River was a small and insignificant village that time and home of shipbuilders and skippers.<br />
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It was the day of Christmas Eve in a cold winter; the village and the hills around were deeply covered with snow.<br />
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The local teacher Franz Gruber closed the school house. Slowly he trudged through the snow to meet his friend and priest of the village Father Joseph Mohr at the church Saint Nicholas.<br />
The two young men had to make the final preparations for the Christmas Mass.<br />
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After a warm welcome Father Mohr told the teacher Franz Gruber who also served as organist and as the church’s choir master which hymns he had selected as part of the celebration.<br />
Then the organist climbed up the stairs to the gallery where the organ was placed.<br />
But he made a nasty discovery – mice had chewed through the bellows of the old organ. The instrument kept silent not even a sound was possible.<br />
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A Christmas Mass without music would be a very poor one.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UYxip-TsEhI/Tu-6s5CDwVI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/Q9Ojhs3gRpM/s1600/Stille_Nacht_Jubilaeumskarte.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UYxip-TsEhI/Tu-6s5CDwVI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/Q9Ojhs3gRpM/s320/Stille_Nacht_Jubilaeumskarte.jpg" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Card on the occasion of 100th anniversary<br />of the carol Silent Night in 1918:<br />Joseph Mohr, Franz Gruber<br />and Oberndorf</span></td></tr>
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The both went to the rectory, sat down in the warm parlour and considered what to do.<br />
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Suddenly the priest remembered that he had written a poem two years ago; a poem about the Christmas tale. He stood and went to his desk. He rummaged through the drawers of his writing table. Finally he grabbed a piece of paper and showed it to his friend Franz. Excited but in a low voice the priest asked Franz to set this six stanzas long poem to music. They removed their doubts that the words were in German and not in usual liturgical latin.<br />
And soon it was clear. It would be a song for two voices, tenor and bass, and the accompanying instrument would be the priest’s guitar.<br />
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Highly inspired by the Christmas poem and influenced by the local folk music Franz Gruber wrote down a simple melody in a sprightly, dance-like rhythm within the following few hours. Already in the late afternoon he was able to practice the carol with the children’s choir.<br />
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So it came that on Christmas Eve in 1818 the carol “Silent Night” was sung the first time at Midnight Mass. Father Joseph Mohr sang the tenor voice and played the guitar; Franz Gruber sang the bass line and directed the choir.<br />
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The two young men saved the Christmas celebration for the people of Oberndorf not knowing that this carol would be known all over the world one day.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska</span><i><br /><br /><br />Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for including this legend in their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/12/20/fc48-sherlock/" target="_blank">'FlashCast48 - Sherlock'</a> !<br /><br />_</i>Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-59649554891599186472011-12-14T17:16:00.001+01:002011-12-19T23:14:00.428+01:00The Devil's Sleigh Ride<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On January 26th, 1667 it was proclaimed in Vienna that it
was strictly forbidden to drive a sleigh after ten o’clock at night.
This should keep the town safety and should assure that the inhabitants
weren’t disturbed in their sleeping hours.<br />
<br />
But still -
there moved a sleigh with loud ringing and rattling through the streets
between eleven and twelve o’clock every night. That sleigh made as much
noise as a hundred sleighs would have made. And soon people knew – the
coachman of that sleigh was the devil himself.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hXVcPQBCtgs/Tui-psYob7I/AAAAAAAAA9s/KD2uxZdX1IM/s1600/Winter+in+Vienna+-+Rudolf+von+Alt_framed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="145" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hXVcPQBCtgs/Tui-psYob7I/AAAAAAAAA9s/KD2uxZdX1IM/s200/Winter+in+Vienna+-+Rudolf+von+Alt_framed.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Winter in Vienna, Rudolf von Alt</span></td></tr>
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People
who had seen it reported that the devil in his bodily shape had a big
head of a boar and that he spit out fire as if he had twelve storm lamps
inside.<br />
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They also told that he had a woman at his side. On
her head she wore a diadem which glowed red and was covered with golden
lice and fleas. Instead of curly hair, ribbons and feather ornaments
snakes and lizards crawled on the head of the devil’s companion. An ugly
toad sat on her chest where a medallion is usually placed. And two big
snakes gnawed at the upper part of her body.<br />
<br />
Once a dutiful night-watchman dared to stop that sleigh and asked the devil to obey the law.<br />
<br />
The satanic figure answered with a devilish laughter. Then the bogey blew at the poor man till the one dropped dead.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>
</i></span></span></span><i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for including this curiosity in their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/12/12/fc47-spielbergian-whimsy/" target="_blank">'FlashCast47 - Spielbergian Whimsy'</a> !<br /><br />_</i></div>
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<br /></div>Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-24272224047988533042011-12-05T23:58:00.000+01:002011-12-06T01:35:20.228+01:00Interlude #5: KrampusTonight I share a piece of Austrian folklore with you.<br />
Tomorrow is December 6th and therefore the day of Saint Nicolas.<br />
<br />
Saint Nicolas has a companion, a satanic figure called Krampus. While Nicolas gives presents to the good children, Krampus is the one who punishes the naughty ones.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A0zejY1zm8Y/Tt00jo0fhdI/AAAAAAAAA8o/IQYBpcWJLFQ/s1600/656px-Nikolaus_krampus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A0zejY1zm8Y/Tt00jo0fhdI/AAAAAAAAA8o/IQYBpcWJLFQ/s320/656px-Nikolaus_krampus.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Nikolaus and Krampus in Austria<br />Newspaper-illustration from 1896</span></td></tr>
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<br />
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en"><span class="hps">And just as</span> it is <span class="hps">in real life </span><span class="hps">the</span> <span class="hps">evil doesn't come</span> <span class="hps">alone</span> <span class="hps">-</span> <span class="hps">Krampusse</span> <span class="hps">usually occur</span> <span class="hps">in packs.</span></span><br />
<br />
Today I know that these figures are just young men dressed up as Krampus to roam through the streets with their rusty chains and their bells. But when I was I child - imagine that - I met the real ones and this was quite frightening.<br />
But we couldn't keep away from that procession - I wanted to see Saint Nicolas. Very close to my mother I stood in the line to get one of the golden colored walnuts from Saint Nicolas.<br />
<br />
Anyway if you like to see how a pack of Krampusse behaves nowadays then please enjoy this clip shot in the 7th district of Vienna ...<br />
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If you like to get more historical information then please switch over to "The Vienna Review" and enjoy the nicely written article there: <a href="http://www.viennareview.net/town/krampus-who-s-3402.html" target="_blank">"Krampus? Who's that?"</a> <br />
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_Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-53728929518751883352011-12-04T00:36:00.000+01:002011-12-13T16:27:44.386+01:00The Flying Shipa story known as a curiosity of Vienna<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Z7gewyr-djo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<b>Vienna, June 24th, 1709</b> - It was very big tumult yesterday morning
approximately at nine o'clock. Everyone was alerted, the streets were
full of people and the ones who were not in the streets stood at their
windows. Everyone was asking what to do but noone knew an answer. Some
people ran around crying the last day would be near, others felt a big
earthquake to come, and some supposed that a large army of enemy
besiegers stood before the gates of Vienna. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Finally more and more arms showed towards the sky and one saw an
indescribable amount of bigger and smaller birds flying around a very
big bird and it looked like as if the flock had a fight with this very
big bird. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Then this odd flock moved further down and closer to earth. It turned
out that the alerged big bird was an object in the form of a ship with
expanded sails. The people could figure out a man on the ship dressed
like a monk who announced his arrival with several gun shots.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The air ship moved in circles several times. It was now obviously that the air rider was looking for a suitable place to land.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e5Rjav8NpkE/TtLahy3VU0I/AAAAAAAAA70/tFtekAV-wuw/s1600/Passarola_framed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="257" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e5Rjav8NpkE/TtLahy3VU0I/AAAAAAAAA70/tFtekAV-wuw/s320/Passarola_framed.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Passarola (Big Bird) from: Wienerische Diarium, 1709</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Unfortunately an unexpected wind arose and prevented the man from his
undertaking. It came even worse. The wind led him to the spire of Saint
Stephen’s Cathedral; the sails got tangled up at the tower top, so that
the machine got stuck in it.<br />
This incident caused a recent uproar among the common people, who all
ran to St. Stephen’s square now. It is reported that twenty people were
crushed to death in the huge crowd.<br />
The man arrested in the air wasn’t helped by the staring people, he
cried for helping hands. But the air ship was so unluckily entangeled
that it wasn’t reachable.<br />
After a couple of hours the man in the ship lost his patience. He took a
hammer and some other tools he had with him and started to demolate the
tip of the spire. He worked till the uppermost part of the tip fell to
the ground. Thus he came back into flight and after some panning around
he skilfully brought his airship to a halt at a place near the Imperial
Palace.<br />
Protected by a company of soldiers – otherwise he possibly would have
been scrunched by the crowd of people – the pilot was brought to the
tavern “The black Eagle”. There he rested for a couple of hours.<br />
Then he told his story. On June 22nd at six o’clock in the morning he
left Lisbon in his newly-invented air machine in order to bring some
letters to the here resident Portuguese ambassador.</div>
His travel was a big challenge and he had many fights with eagles,
storks, paradise birds and many other unknown birds. He said if he
hadn’t had his two double hooks and the four shotguns with him he would
have lost his life without any doubt.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska<br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
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</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>
</i></span></span></span><i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for including this curiosity in their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/12/01/fc45-just-the-tip/">'FlashCast45 - Just the Tip'</a> !</i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-44377183722706263102011-11-29T00:18:00.000+01:002011-12-06T11:06:43.863+01:00The Devil and the Bowyer's Wife<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
In the 16th century there lived a bowyer in Vienna. His name was Kaspar Pergauer. His business went well and he was very satisfied with his daily doing. He could have been the happiest man on earth if there hadn’t been his wife Ursula. <br />
<br />
Kaspar had married her because of her beauty and her money but his friends had warned him – she was well known for her sharp tongue. Well, after some years the beauty was gone, her money was spent and it turned out that she preferred to use her evil tongue to attack her husband. <br />
<br />
She ranted and raved the whole day long; Kaspar had indeed a very hard life. <br />
<br />
To escape his wife Kaspar went to the pub every evening. When he arrived home late at night Ursula awaited him with a shower of curses and at least with her rolling pin. <br />
<br />
One evening after a big quarrel he left home and wandered aimlessly through the streets of Vienna. Finally he found himself at St. Peter's cemetery, exhausted he sat down on an old grave stone. <br />
<br />
“Ah,” he sighed, “I can’t live with this wife anymore. May the devil take her!” <br />
<br />
“Whom shall I take?" suddenly an eerie, sinister figure had appeared in front of the bowyer. "I'm there when you call me! What can I do for you?" <br />
<br />
“Well,” Kaspar gave in, “you don’t have to take her necessarily. But maybe you can scare her a bit or teach her a better behaviour.” then he added depressed, “But I suppose even for you this shrew is a hard nut to crack.” <br />
<br />
"That would be ridiculous if I weren’t be able to do this," boasted the devil. "But you know I don’t work for free." <br />
<br />
For a moment the devil considered then Kaspar heard his conditions, "If I manage to change your wife to a tame lamb within the next three days, you may still enjoy your beautiful life here on earth for many years - but then when you die I get your soul. - If I can’t make it, which is all but impossible, then I don’t take your soul, no matter how you've lived your life, because then you have already paid the penalty of all your sins on earth at the side of your wife." <br />
<br />
The bowyer agreed. <br />
<br />
“And keep away from your house for the next three days!” the devil added before he disappeared. The good man nodded – he smiled relieved.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BbIX8QnxbYI/Tsrk0hB7PTI/AAAAAAAAA4k/r1eMSOp9Pcs/s1600/GrabenHoefnagel1609_halfhalf_framed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BbIX8QnxbYI/Tsrk0hB7PTI/AAAAAAAAA4k/r1eMSOp9Pcs/s1600/GrabenHoefnagel1609_halfhalf_framed.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">"Am Graben,Vienna 1609" - Jacob Hoefnagel<br />(St.Peter's Church on the right side)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The next morning the devil appeared in the person of Kaspar Pergauer in whose house. <br />
He had decided to try it first of all in kindness. <br />
<br />
Softly he leaned over the still sleeping Ursula in order to kiss her awake. She opened her eyes saw her alleged husband and started her rant immediately. She called him a vicious troublemaker who would spoil her life already at dawn. And in this way she continued to chatter the whole day long. The mouth of the gruff woman worked like a mill wheel; the puzzled devil couldn’t get a word in edgewise. <br />
When her anger reached a particular level she had no shy to slap the stunned devil. <br />
At the end of the day the devil had a black eye but not the bit of success in taming the bowyer’s wife. <br />
<br />
On the second day the devil tried to talk sense with the woman.<br />
He explained her what she did wrong that she shouldn’t curse and how a good wife should behave. She just listened – quietly. The devil thought already that this methode seemed to bring success. <br />
<br />
But then at midday she flared up and shouted angrily, “Who do you think you are! You dare to teach me how to behave! I work hard for you every day and you just nag and criticize!” A load of reproaches hailed upon the allerged husband and in her fury she snatched the pot of hot soup from the stove and poured the boiling broth over the devil’s head. He screamed out loud; then he ran as fast as he could. <br />
<br />
Having his breath back he said, “You scathing woman – tomorrow you will get know me!” <br />
<br />
On the third day he came back to Ursula in his original form.<br />
Ursula seemed truly astonished. <br />
<br />
"I've tried in goodness and rigor to bring you to reason," he growled. "Now my patience has an end. From now on you are as gentle as a lamb, otherwise you get a nasty surprise!" <br />
<br />
“Now my patience has an end,” imitated Ursula the devil’s words after she had picked up her courage again, “You threaten me? Now my patience has an end!” <br />
<br />
Surprised by her reaction the devil flinched. <br />
<br />
Now she grabbed him by his horns and tore them so strongly that one of the horns broke. The devil was completely/quite taken aback. Meanwhile Ursula had grabbed her rolling pin and hit the devil until he took leave of his senses. <br />
<br />
That was even for the devil too much. Under hellish stench of sulfur he disappeared through the chimney.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
Poor Kaspar Pergauer lived a long time; and with his wife at his side he paid for all his sins already on earth. When he died he got straight into heaven.<br />
<br />
You can imagine that Ursula didn’t get into heaven after her death but she didn’t get into hell as well.<br />
The devil strictly denied her entrance. So her restless soul is still wandering around in various forms; and from time to time you hear someone telling that he has met her.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska<br /></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
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</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>
</i></span></span></span><i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for including this curiosity in their <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_708860088">'FlashCast46 - Inappropriate Exposure</a></i><i><a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/12/05/fc46-inappropriate-exposure/" target="_blank">'</a> !</i></div>
</div>
<br />
_<br />
<br />Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-86289623866730025882011-11-07T15:46:00.001+01:002011-11-22T19:44:50.307+01:00The Thirteenth Chime<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
It was in the middle of the 16th century in a tavern in Vienna when a hand full of young musicians had an enjoyable evening. Among these musicians was a well known conductor named Arnold de Bruck. <br />
<br />
It was already nearly midnight when an old gypsy woman entered the tavern and offered her service as palm reader. She went from table to table, but nobody seemed to be interested. <br />
<br />
Arnold De Bruck was in an excellent mood that evening and ready for some fooling. So he beckoned the gypsy over to his table. <br />
<br />
“Tell me about my future”, he asked her and stretched out his hand for her to take.<br />
The woman followed his offer eagerly. <br />
<br />
“You have an interesting palm,” she said, “I see an eventful life; a lot of success in a circle of high personalities. I even see the Emperor in your life.” <br />
<br />
Proudly de Bruck looked around to make sure that everyone around could hear the gypsy’s words. <br />
<br />
”Your heart line is strong and uninterrupted,” she continued, “and your life line is telling me that …” <br />
<br />
Abruptly she broke up her sentence and intended to leave. <br />
<br />
“Hey, hey, stop!” de Bruck exclaimed and grabbed her sleeve, “You haven’t predicted my future yet! What has my life line told you?” <br />
<br />
“I’ve seen the hour of your death,” she replied softly. <br />
<br />
“And this is when?” he insisted. <br />
<br />
“It is better you don’t know it.” <br />
<br />
It had become silent in the tavern and everyone’s eyes were directed to de Bruck and the gypsy. <br />
<br />
“But I do want to know,” the conductor urged. <br />
<br />
"Well," the fortune teller looked again at the lines of de Bruck's palm.<br />
<br />
"You will die not far from this tavern - soon - when the clock of St. Stephen strikes thirteen times." <br />
<br />
For a moment it was so quiet that one could have heard the fall of a needle.<br />
Then a thunderous laughter broke out.<br />
"Ha-ha, when the clock strikes thirteen," snorted de Bruck. "This clock has to be invented! You’ve just proclaimed me immortality!" <br />
<br />
Still laughing, he opened his wallet and gave the woman a gold coin.<br />
The old looked sadly at the conductor, then she left the tavern and disappeared in the dark. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7uLjCoDJ6vw/TrftyetMMJI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/qAEq2NgIYy0/s1600/800px-Wien_Stephansplatz_1609_Hoefnagel_framed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7uLjCoDJ6vw/TrftyetMMJI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/qAEq2NgIYy0/s320/800px-Wien_Stephansplatz_1609_Hoefnagel_framed.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">St.Stephen's Square, 1609</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
A couple of weeks later – Arnold de Bruck had already forgotten that boozy evening and the prediction of the gypsy – he visited the bell ringer of St. Stephen’s Cathedral.<br />
It was a beautiful day and because Arnold de Bruck loved the view over the roofs of Vienna they climbed up the tower up to the room where the bells hung. <br />
<br />
At that moment the church clock began to strike to tell the Viennese that it’s twelve and time for lunch. <br />
<br />
The conductor put his hands over his ears to protect his sensitive hearing. When the twelfth chime had faded away, he thought his friend had shouted something at him, and so turned around quickly.<br />
Thereby his sword hit violently against the bell. – A thirteenth chime echoed through Vienna. <br />
<br />
Suddenly he remembered the gypsy and her prophecy. <br />
Full of panic he tried to silence the booming bell.<br />
But he stumbled, lost his balance and fell into the depths. - Arnold de Bruck was dead.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska<br />
</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br />
<br />
</i></span></span></span><i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for including the legend in their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/11/10/flashcast-42-old-timey/">'FlashCast 42 - Old Timey'</a> !</i><br />
<br />
_Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-91113399912894455192011-10-31T00:54:00.004+01:002011-11-22T01:11:19.178+01:00The Heckthaler<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span>Jörg von Rauhenstein was a drunkard and a gambler; he lived so long in the lap of luxury until the fortune he had inherited from his father was gone. <br />
<br />
Without a coin in his pocket he moved to Vienna together with his wife and their child. <br />
<br />
Ruefully he gave up his slovenly life; he found a job as armourer and soon the little family lived in modest prosperity. <br />
<br />
But after a couple of years he succumbed to the temptation to drink and to roll the dices again. <br />
<br />
Finally he lost his job and when his child got sick he even wasn’t able to pay a doctor.<br />
The kid died; and soon after the child’s death his wife passed away due broken heart. – Both found their too early graves at St.Stephen’s cemetery. <br />
<br />
But even their death couldn’t keep him away from his vice. <br />
<br />
As beggar Jörg strolled through Vienna and asked for food and some coins. <br />
<br />
One day he met the maid servant Burgl. She felt mercy with the poor guy and so she asked,<br />
“Have you ever tried to find a Heckthaler?” <br />
<br />
“What is a Heckthaler?” Jörg replied interested. <br />
<br />
“It’s a very special coin,” the maid explained, “the one who owns a Heckthaler is never in financial need. This magical coin comes back to you every time you spend it.” <br />
<br />
“What do I have to do to find such a coin?” Jörg inquired. <br />
<br />
Burgl nodded to make clear she would give him the details,<br />
“In a night to a Sunday at midnight you have to run around St. Stephen’s church three times. You have to start your run exactly with the first strike of the tower clock and the run has to be finished with the last, the twelfth strike. Then you’ll find a brand-new coin in your pocket – a Heckthaler.” <br />
<br />
This sounded very inviting to Jörg and so he decided to try his luck. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dfDWf7ZQZlM/Tq2gs6p2qMI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/jeSrWwidolI/s1600/Stephansdom+um+1720+colored_framed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dfDWf7ZQZlM/Tq2gs6p2qMI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/jeSrWwidolI/s320/Stephansdom+um+1720+colored_framed.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Saint Stephen's Cathedral and the graveyard, c.1720</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Long before midnight Jörg arrived at the cemetery which surrounded St. Stephen’s church. <br />
<br />
It was an eerie night. The wind purred around the spire and the pale moon light drew strange shadows on the ground. <br />
But despite the scary situation the fellow remained at the grave yard. <br />
<br />
When the clock struck a quarter to midnight he made himself ready for his run; he didn’t even want to miss a second of the time. <br />
<br />
At twelve the wheels of the clock creaked and the first stroke of the clock echoed through the night. <br />
<br />
At that moment Jörg started into his fateful run. <br />
<br />
Frantically he ran between the graves and tried to find the shortest way. <br />
<br />
Suddenly - the first round was almost completed - he saw the figure of his dead father with a sorrowful and even alerting expression on his face. But although he was scared he continued his running. <br />
<br />
At the end of the second round he noticed his deceased wife beckoning him to stop. <br />
But Jörg ignored her warning and started into the third round. <br />
<br />
He still had the two visions on his mind when he stumbled upon a little grave. He fell. <br />
<br />
At this moment two little arms reached out of the grave, grabbed him by his clothes and held him so tightly that he couldn’t move anymore. <br />
<br />
He tried hard to break away – but all in vain. <br />
<br />
As the clock struck the twelfth time the unregenerate lost his life on the grave of his child.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska<br />
</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br />
<br />
</i></span></span></span><i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for including the legend in their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/11/01/flashcast-41-my-arm-wound/">'FlashCast 41 - My Arm Wound'</a> !</i><i></i><br />
<br />
_Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-15742985705040825292011-10-26T15:17:00.002+02:002011-11-22T01:11:32.632+01:00The Ninth Pin or The Skittle Player of St.Stephen's Tower<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
In ancient times Vienna had a tower guard. He was located at the highest point of the town. This was that times St. Stephen’s Cathedral. He lived in a small apartment in the Tower of St. Stephen’s and watched over the houses of the town. His duty was to alert the citizens when a fire broke out. <br />
<br />
But in quiet times when nothing happened it was quite a boring job.<br />
<br />
So it came that the Viennese built a skittle alley for the amusement of the tower guard in a small room beside the guard’s parlour.<br />
It was a small and low-ceilinged room and so the skittle alley was short; therefore the players stood with their back to the alley, bowed their head and had to roll the bowling ball between their legs. <br />
<br />
But this didn’t matter; the young fellows from the neighbourhood loved to play with the tower guard on this extraordinary bowling alley. <br />
<br />
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<br />
Once there was a tower guard called Franz; he was a dissolute fellow, he loved to drink and his passion was the nine pin bowling. He was a master of this game; no matter where or when he was playing, he always hit all nine pins with one single throw. He won every time. But soon no one wanted to play with Franz anymore. <br />
<br />
One evening in fall Franz played the skittles again alone till midnight. <br />
<br />
Suddenly he heard a hollow voice out of the dark, “Still playing at such a time?”<br />
<br />
A tall thin man with a grey cloak, the hood lowly pulled over his face, occurred in the light of the candles. <br />
<br />
Cold shivers ran over Franz’s back, but soon he was the fearless guy again and answered boldly,<br />
“Do you dare to play with me? I win every time!”<br />
<br />
The Grey replied with a cheerful voice, “Me too. I never lose a game.” <br />
<br />
Franz took the skittle ball and with a full swing he hurled it between his legs. <br />
<br />
The skittles were blasted out and cheerfully he shouted, "All Nine! Match that if you can!"<br />
<br />
But when he realigned the pins he hid one under his jacket and seemingly unnoticed he threw the pin out of the tower window. <br />
<br />
“Not that way, my friend!” the Grey roared in a sinister voice. <br />
<br />
Then the hooded man straightened up, he grew and grew, and spread his cloak. <br />
<br />
Shuddering Franz saw the bare bones. <br />
<br />
"I am the Death," it echoed through the little room, "and I always win - even when there are only eight pins, I make all nine. I just have to hit eight – plus one!" <br />
<br />
The skeletal hand reached for the ball and threw it into the pins, so that they fell with heavy clatter. And instead of the ninth pin – Franz fell to the ground. <br />
<br />
The next morning, the tower guard was found dead between the pins. <br />
<br />
Since then, the tower guard Franz appears as a ghost at the bowling alley every night; he whimpers and whines, and still tries to find the ninth pin, because otherwise he can’t find salvation.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska<br />
</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br />
<br />
</i></span></span></span><i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for including the legend in their <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_670721356">'FlashCast 40 - The Strange Love of Dr. Monstrous</a></i><i><a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/10/25/flashcast-40-the-strange-love-of-dr-monstrous/">'</a> !</i><br />
<br />
_Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-22786646040504130482011-08-12T00:31:00.002+02:002011-11-22T01:12:28.924+01:00The Talking Fish<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/EYlBHj2Y2ds?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
The oldest preserved graveyard in Vienna is a Jewish cemetery located in the 9th district. It was created in the 16th century and between 1540 and 1783 the main burial site for members of Vienna’s Jewish community.<br />
<br />
At that graveyard you find a secluded fish sculpture made of limestone.<br />
Of course there exists a legend about this sculpture.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
One day the Jew Simeon caught a big fat fish and was looking forward to the meal.<br />
<br />
But at the kitchen table the fish lifted its head and cried out “Shema Yisrael”, those words one should say in the moment of death.<br />
<br />
But it was too late, the head had been cut off and the fish died.<br />
<br />
Quite surprised Simeon asked the Rabbi what to do. The Rabbi said it was probably a “Dybbuk”, a malicious possessing spirit believed to be the dislocated soul of a dead person and so the fish should be buried.<br />
<br />
So did Simeon and placed a gravestone in the form of a fish.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2kWXC10GHM/TkMTYC6DMeI/AAAAAAAAAZM/nYhJqsTkg9A/s1600/Talking+Fish_bw_mirrorcut-framed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2kWXC10GHM/TkMTYC6DMeI/AAAAAAAAAZM/nYhJqsTkg9A/s200/Talking+Fish_bw_mirrorcut-framed.jpg" width="193" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><i><br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for putting the legend on their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/08/08/flashcast-31-gone-fishin/">'FlashCast 31 - Gone Fishin''</a> !</i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
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_</span>Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-67289743430999238162011-08-07T23:30:00.002+02:002011-11-22T01:12:55.895+01:00The Ghost Rider<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/WbIF63fWC2M?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<br />
<br />
Once upon a time a Viennese woman was in great need. One evening she decided to go with her child to the magical source known as Agnesbründl near a glade called the Jägerwiese deep in the forests of Vienna.<br />
<br />
Agnes was a legendary fairy of the woods. She lived in a subterranean palace and was known as a generous helper when one was in financial need. And people knew that the best time to visit this magic place and to meet Agnes was around midnight.<br />
<br />
Mother and child lay down near the wondrous source and while the woman hoped that Agnes would appear her child fell into sleep. <br />
<br />
Suddenly the woman saw a tall man on a huge white horse coming out of the woods. The animal shone as bright as the sun, so that it was as light as day at that moment. <br />
<br />
Without a sound the horseman galloped down the meadow. When he saw the woman and her child he stopped his horse and asked,”What are you looking for?” <br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gPqV_DE3jNo/Tj8A86VFuyI/AAAAAAAAAZI/rq5TNbiji9E/s1600/BucheAgnesbruennl_framed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gPqV_DE3jNo/Tj8A86VFuyI/AAAAAAAAAZI/rq5TNbiji9E/s1600/BucheAgnesbruennl_framed.jpg" /></a>Startled she replied, “Just wood.” <br />
<br />
He moved his hand to show her some pieces of wood, “Take that one with you. It’s much better than any other wood you can find here!” <br />
<br />
The woman followed his advice, but she took just a few pieces, because she noticed that it was almost rotten. <br />
<br />
While she bent down to pick the wood the mysterious rider disappeared. <br />
<br />
Quickly the woman took her child and hurried back home. <br />
<br />
The next morning she wanted to take the pieces of wood out of her bag but when she looked at it she saw that it was pure gold. <br />
<br />
Immediately she ran back to the place where she met the ghost rider but not even one single piece of the magical wood was there anymore.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
<br />
<br />
</span><i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for putting the legend on their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/07/31/flashcast-30-agnesbrundl/">'FlashCast 30 - Agnesbründl'</a> !</i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
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_</span>Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-63926916017759319502011-07-30T00:39:00.001+02:002011-11-22T01:13:12.561+01:00The Three Little Devils<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/koCpd0zwVDE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<br />
In ancient times three little devils played their mischievous tricks on the Viennese in and around St. Stephen’s church. <br />
<br />
They were called Luziferl, Spirifankerl and Springinkerl. <br />
They teased the prayers, frightened the penitents, extinguished the candles and hid the craftsmen hammer and chisel. <br />
<br />
Luziferl was the meanest and most dangerous among them. He was the one who was responsible for the death of the architect who worked at the Northtower of St. Stephen’s. <br />
<br />
People were pursuing the evil Luziferl till they get hold of the demon. <br />
Soon Spirifankerl and Springinkerl were caught too. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j6jwgrzJRcg/TjHojENmQbI/AAAAAAAAAYc/3wmXXN44Fk4/s1600/Die+drei+Teuferl1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j6jwgrzJRcg/TjHojENmQbI/AAAAAAAAAYc/3wmXXN44Fk4/s200/Die+drei+Teuferl1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The Three Little Devils</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The three evil spirits were put into a cage on the church wall from which they couldn’t escape any more.<br />
<br />
For a long time they raged in the cage then they turned slowly into stone. <br />
<br />
Today you can still see relics of the three little devils but with every day they vanish more and more. <br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
<br />
<br />
</span><i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for putting the legend on their '<a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/07/18/flashcast-28-death-of-the-weebinax/">FlashCast 28 - Death of the Weebinax</a>' !</i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
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_</span>Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-1832831145222095222011-07-23T19:49:00.001+02:002011-11-22T01:13:26.385+01:00The Basilisk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
What a big turmoil it was in the house of baker Garhibl in Schönlaterngasse 7 in the early morning of June 12th, 1212. <br />
<br />
Kathrin the maid was sent to bring water from the well. <br />
Now she stood there and babbled something about a monster at the base of the well with bestial stench; and she also mentioned very strange sounds. <br />
<br />
Baker Garhibl was furious about the alleged imaginations of the girl. But even he couldn’t deny that there was an unpleasant smell in the air. <br />
<br />
“I’ll have a look,” said journeyman Heinrich. He took a torch; let him tie at a rope on which he could be hold by the baker and the other journeyman Hans. <br />
Then he climbed down into the well. <br />
<br />
Suddenly he screamed that it set someone’s tooth on edge. <br />
The light from the torch was extinguished in the well. Baker Garhibl and Hans pulled him up quickly.<br />
<br />
Heinrich was unconscious.<br />
They opened his shirt and fanned fresh air to his face. Finally he awakened. <br />
<br />
"A monster," he babbled. "Disgusting! ... The head of the cock ... the body of the toad ... a tail soooo long and scaly ... and it wears a crown of bright red stones ... and it stinks!" <br />
<br />
Then he fainted again. <br />
<br />
“In this case we must call the town magistrate,” baker Garhibl said to his folks and so he sent the maid Kathrin for the town magistrate Jakob von der Hülden. <br />
<br />
It took about an hour, until the honourable Jakob von der Hülben, escorted by guards and a crowd of bystanders arrived at the baker’s house. <br />
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Gratefully and relieved the baker Garhible told him what had happened. <br />
<br />
The town magistrate considered but he had no idea. There stepped a man out of the crowd – his name was Doctor Pollitzer, and it was known that he was well versed in all natural phenomena. <br />
<br />
“I suppose it’s a basilik.” he said. <br />
<br />
“A basilisk? What’s that?” Kathrin asked. <br />
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"When a rooster lays an egg," explained the man, "and the egg is hatched by a toad, and the offspring is reared by a snake, then the result is such a monster. Its breath stinks of decay and its vision is profoundly ugly. Who sees it, is doomed to death. No spear, no sword, not even fire can harm the basilisk." <br />
<br />
The astonished crowd of people were horrified. <br />
<br />
"Is there nothing which can destroy the monster?" Garhibl asked, already afraid that he had to give up his house. <br />
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"Hmm, yes, there is a possibility," replied the doctor. "One must dare to climb down with a mirror. When the beast is confronted with its own ugliness it will explode." <br />
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There was dead silence. Finally journeyman Hans said, “Let me try it,” he turned to the baker and continued, “and if I can make it would you allow me to marry your daughter Anna?” <br />
<br />
Well, Garhibl knew that they both were in love but he couldn’t give his agreement so far because a journeyman wasn’t an adequate marriage for his daughter. But under these circumstances - so he nodded. <br />
<br />
Quickly the wall mirror was brought out of the baker’s house. Hans was tied to a rope, Anna put a little wax in her fiancé’s ears; then the brave climbed down into the dark well, like a shield he held the mirror in front of him. <br />
<br />
Suddenly the folks heard a horrible heartrending scream let out by the basilisk. And then a deafening bang. <br />
<br />
“It’s dead!” Hans’ voice echoed out of the well. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NC6H0_zwEq8/TisJU5lhFhI/AAAAAAAAAYI/EaHup__m43g/s1600/Basilisk1_framed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NC6H0_zwEq8/TisJU5lhFhI/AAAAAAAAAYI/EaHup__m43g/s320/Basilisk1_framed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Safely although a bit hard of hearing in spite of the earplugs Hans to the cheers of the crowd climbed out of the well. <br />
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Unfortunately Heinrich the journeyman who had seen the basilisk died the same day. <br />
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Garhibl and his folks filled the well with stones and earth. <br />
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And pretty soon the brave Hans married Anna.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for putting the legend on their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/07/11/flashcast-27-exploding-basilisk/">'FlashCast 27 - Exploding Basilisk'</a> !</i><br />
<br />
_Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-44924216676934910212011-07-20T19:09:00.006+02:002011-11-22T01:13:42.694+01:00The Mystery of Wind and Rain around St. Stephen’s Cathedral<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/3OwyqxyQMsE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
<br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span>You can imagine that the devil wasn’t pleased to see how the skilled and busy craftsmen constructed St. Stephen’s Cathedral. <br />
<br />
So he made an alliance with the wind and the rain and asked them to hunt around the building. In that way he thought he could keep the workers away from their eagerly doing. <br />
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But cheerfully and with devout prayers the builders continued their work. <br />
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Angrily and without achieving his goal the devil moved back to hell. <br />
But he forgot to take the wind and the rain with him. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aa_EKEMvlAU/TicTnQcR0RI/AAAAAAAAAYE/1VNT_5zS00k/s320/400px-Stephansplatz_in_Wien_1794-experiment.jpg" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">St.Stephen's Square,1794</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So since that time the both roar loudly lamenting around St. Stephen’s Cathedral.<br />
<br />
Soon the Viennese had a little rhyme on their lips: <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
“Even when in the entire country the weather is fair</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
you can be sure that it’s windy or rainy at St. Stephen’s square.”</div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska<br />
</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br />
<br />
</i></span></span></span><i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for putting the legend on their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/07/05/flashcast-26-illegal-fireworks/">'FlashCast 26 - Illegal Fireworks'</a> !</i><br />
<br />
_</div>Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-63569231111093509962011-07-18T19:07:00.000+02:002011-07-18T19:07:45.215+02:00Interlude #4: "The Harry Lime Theme"I feel very proud to annonce that now the Viennese Legends have their own intro for <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/07/11/flashcast-27-exploding-basilisk/">FlashCast</a>.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.maytunes.com/blog/">Jessica May</a>, audio producer of the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">FlashPulp</a> Crew, did a fantastic job and underlaid the words "Curious Tales of Vienna" with a short sequence of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Third_Man_Theme">"The Third Man Theme"</a> that let me feel very special.<br />
<br />
Anyway suddenly I had the background story of this theme on my mind. I did a bit of research to complete my knowledge and so I can tell you know the following:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rYNTlTRLNyM/TiRagihzg4I/AAAAAAAAAX0/GvG63_kDIYs/s1600/KarasNoten_orig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rYNTlTRLNyM/TiRagihzg4I/AAAAAAAAAX0/GvG63_kDIYs/s1600/KarasNoten_orig.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.antonkaras.at/frameset_english.htm">The Harry Lime Theme</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
It was in October 1948 during the shooting for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Third_Man">"The Third Man"</a> in Vienna when Director <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carol_Reed">Carol Reed</a> met <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anton_Karas">Anton Karas</a> the first time. Carol Reed was still searching for an adequate sound for the film. It should evoke the Viennese atmosphere but it shouldn't be a waltz.<br />
<br />
That time Anton Karas earned his living with playing the zither at a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heuriger">Heuriger</a> (some kind of wine bar typical for Vienna and the east of Austria) in the 19th district of Vienna.<br />
<br />
It is not known where they actually met each other the first time but I think it's quite obvious that it was at the Heuriger where Karas played his zither. Some sources also confirm that.<br />
<br />
It is said that Carol Reed was fascinated by the sound of the zither and the performances of Anton Karas.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-POGjMV83pO4/TiRG9gATgJI/AAAAAAAAAXw/eJY-fqwoi0E/s1600/KarasFilmmusik.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-POGjMV83pO4/TiRG9gATgJI/AAAAAAAAAXw/eJY-fqwoi0E/s1600/KarasFilmmusik.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.antonkaras.at/frameset_english.htm">Composing of the film music</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><i>"Slightly before the end of the shooting Carol Reed invited Anton Karas to the Hotel Astoria in Vienna and Karas was asked to play for the film crew hours and hours. Back to London Reed experimented with different pieces for a film music but nothing was satisfying and therefore he invited Anton Karas to London. Karas started composing the complete film music on June 1st, 1949, the recording was finished within 12 weeks. Karas composed and improved about 14 hours per day. Unfortunately he felt extremely homesick and was more than one time to go back to Vienna without finishing his work. But Reed didn't "surrender" and assisted him and kept him in London like a prisoner. When he finished recording the film music, a fire in the cutting room destroyed more than the half of the completed film material including the sound column. Anton Karas had to record the complete sound column once again. When the film was completed just one week before the scheduled premiere, Carol Reed and Anton Karas went to the Westminster Abbey to light thankful a candle!"</i> source: <a href="http://www.antonkaras.at/frameset_english.htm">antonkaras.at</a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<br />
<i>"This song was originally released in the U.K. in 1949, where it was 'The Harry Lime Theme.' Following its release in the U.S. in 1950 (see <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1950_in_music">1950 in music</a>), "The Third Man Theme" spent eleven weeks at number one on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billboard_%28magazine%29">Billboard</a>'s U.S. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Best_Sellers_in_Stores">Best Sellers in Stores</a> chart, from April 29 to July 8. Its success led to a trend in releasing film theme music as singles."</i> source: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Third_Man_Theme">wikipedia</a><br />
<br />
<div class="boxcontent">"The Harry Lime Theme" was the first #1 in the USA for an Austrian.</div><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/te9fqm6rUPY?fs=1" width="425"></iframe><br />
<br />
_Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-317490091959891862011-07-18T00:36:00.001+02:002011-11-28T19:23:39.187+01:00Facts & History #2: Christ with a ToothacheJust a few facts as a late addition to the legend "<a href="http://vienneselegends.blogspot.com/2011/07/christ-with-toothache.html">Christ with a Toothache</a>"<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E7LwIFSfpa4/TiNgRTeik8I/AAAAAAAAAXo/G9H5rHibhi8/s1600/Zahnwehherrgott.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E7LwIFSfpa4/TiNgRTeik8I/AAAAAAAAAXo/G9H5rHibhi8/s320/Zahnwehherrgott.jpg" width="105" /></a>The legend is about a figure of Christ, a "Man of Sorrow" which is represented twice today.<br />
In 1960 the original moved inside the Cathedral. On the outside you find a copy today.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Stephen%27s_Cathedral,_Vienna" target="_blank">wikipedia</a> says about this <b>Fixture on the outside walls</b>,<br />
<i>"A figure of Christ ... affectionately known to the Viennese as "Christ with a Toothache", from the agonized expression of his face, various memorials from the time the area outside the cathedral was a cemetery and a recently-restored 15<sup>th</sup> century <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sundial" title="Sundial">sundial</a>, on a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flying_buttress" title="Flying buttress">flying buttress</a> at the southwest corner ... can be seen.</i><i>"</i><br />
<br />
In the middle age it was a daily tradition to adorn such figures with fresh flowers. And it is fact that people used a piece of cloth to secure these flowers because it was and still is always windy around St.Stephens.<br />
<br />
sources:<br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Stephen%27s_Cathedral,_Vienna">wikipedia</a><br />
<a href="http://www.stephansdom.at/dom_symbole_legenden_zahnwehherrgott.htm">Unser Stephansdom</a><br />
<br />
_Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-43780217028754250462011-07-14T02:47:00.002+02:002011-11-22T01:15:58.575+01:00Theophrastus Paracelsus and the Devil<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/sKldDE-KAwI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
It was in 1510 when Theophrastus Paracelsus lived in Vienna to study medicine. <br />
He used to walk through the forests to collect all sorts of medical plants and herbs. <br />
<br />
On one of those days – he was already on his way back to town he had a rest under a huge fir tree. <br />
<br />
Suddenly he heard a groan and a heartrending voice crying, “Help me! Oh help me!” <br />
<br />
Paracelsus jumped up, he looked around but he couldn’t find the caller. <br />
“How can I help when I can’t see you?” Paracelsus said impatiently, “I don’t know where you are and I even don’t know who you are!” <br />
<br />
“I am the evil,” the voice replied, “an exorcist squeezed me into a hole of this tree trunk and closed it with a plug. I can not get out! Free me, oh free me! I don’t want to stay here till the last day.” <br />
<br />
“For my part you can remain trapped for an eternity; at least you can’t cause harm anymore.” <br />
<br />
“Free me, oh free me,” lamented the devil, “I’ll give you everything you ask for; I’ll fulfill you all your wishes; and you even don’t have to give me your soul!” <br />
<br />
For a moment Paracelsus thought about the devil’s offer then he replied, “So listen what I ask for. I want a drug which can cure every disease; and – I want a tincture which can turn everything I want into gold.” <br />
<br />
“Very well then. Your wishes are fulfilled.” <br />
<br />
Paracelsus took his pocket knife and scatched around the plug till he could pull it out easily. <br />
<br />
A coal black spider crawled out of the tree trunk, which turned at the moment into a tall gaunt man with a red cloak, a sword and a hat with a red rooster feather. <br />
<br />
“Come with me.” the devil said with grinning friendliness. <br />
<br />
Paracelsus accepted the invite. <br />
<br />
They stopped at a rock and the bad guy hit his sword forcefully against it. <br />
The rock split and the devil went through the gaping hole. Soon he reappeared with two bottles. <br />
<br />
“Here, the yellow liquid is the gold tincture, the other one is the miracle drug; both bottles will never be empty no matter how much you will use.” <br />
The devil handed Paracelsus the bottles, ”So, and now I have to go to the exorcist, who brought me into this awkward situation.” <br />
<br />
They walked back to the fir tree where Paracelsus freed the devil. The smart man used the time to think about how he could save the exorcist’s life. <br />
<br />
Finally he said, “That exorcist must be a very clever guy and a master of the black arts. I mean he turned you into a spider and squeezed you in the hole of the tree trunk.” <br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J76vE_DXY6I/Th1pfOaPb3I/AAAAAAAAAXk/abwVG1LdyWs/s1600/450px-Paracelsus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J76vE_DXY6I/Th1pfOaPb3I/AAAAAAAAAXk/abwVG1LdyWs/s200/450px-Paracelsus.jpg" width="150" /></a>“Pha,” the devil replied, “to turn into a spider is a very easy feat.” <br />
<br />
“I bet the two bottles you just gave me that you can’t do this.” Paracelsus insisted. <br />
<br />
“Okay – the bet is on!” <br />
<br />
And in no time the devil was a black spider again and crawled into the hole of the fir tree.<br />
<br />
Paracelsus reacted very quickly and closed the hole with the plug. Then he cut a cross in it to make the devil mute. <br />
<br />
A couple of years later Paracelsus became one of the most famous physicians. He cured many patients with the miracle drug and helped many poor people with the gold tincture. <br />
<br />
And the devil? - Well, if a lightning hasn’t split that fir tree I suppose the devil is still trapped inside.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
<br />
</span><i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for putting the legend on their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/06/27/flashcast-25-anonymous-donor/">'FlashCast 25 - Anonymous Donor'</a> !</i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
<br />
_</span>Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-29205923640972678182011-07-08T20:35:00.003+02:002011-10-31T01:02:58.996+01:00Christ with a Toothache<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ElVlfFp7Xdw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<br />
On the façade of St. Stephen’s Cathedral is a figure of Christ a so called “Man of Sorrow”. <br />
The Viennese know this figure as “Christ with a Toothache”. <br />
How it came to this name tells the following story.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">*****</div><br />
Once upon a time three jolly fellows lived in Vienna. They often sat together and drank until late into the night and on their way home they used to play tricks on one or the other Viennese. <br />
<br />
One night after the curfew of their favourite pub they strolled frolicsomely through the streets of Vienna. On their way they passed St. Stephen’s Cathedral. <br />
<br />
In the lamplight they saw that the crown of thorns of the “Man of Sorrow” was adorned with fresh flowers. So that the wind couldn’t blow away those flowers they were tied with a cloth. This ranged from the vertex over the cheeks until under the chin where it was knotted. <br />
<br />
It was Junker Diepold, somehow he was the leader of the troupe, who laughed, “Hey, this looks as if the Lord had a toothache! No wonder he definitely stands at a draughty place!” <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eqD8SYakI0I/ThdSXxlAVkI/AAAAAAAAAWM/N2BJGZpzoXA/s1600/stadt1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eqD8SYakI0I/ThdSXxlAVkI/AAAAAAAAAWM/N2BJGZpzoXA/s1600/stadt1.jpg" /></a></div>For a while they continued joking. Finally they went to their homes. <br />
<br />
But that night Junker Diepold couldn’t find a sleep. His cheeks began to burn and a short time later he got a very bad toothache. <br />
<br />
He rubbed his cheeks, poked around in his teeth, rinsed his mouth with hard liquor – but nothing helped. <br />
<br />
After the sleepless night he consulted a doctor. But that man couldn’t help him either. “Your teeth are fine,” the doctor said, “But it’s an odd thing – you are already the third patient today who’s complaining of a toothache without any particular reason.” <br />
<br />
With these words Junker Diepold recognized that he was punished by the “Man of Sorrow” for his sarcastic remarks; and he decided to apologize immediately. <br />
<br />
Ruefully and head bowed he tied a cloth around his head and went to “Man of Sorrow”. <br />
<br />
Actually he was not surprised that he found his buddies there. He knelt down beside them and begged tearfully for forgiveness. <br />
<br />
The penitents were answered and the tooth pain disappeared even in the same hour. <br />
<br />
The three fellows had their lesson. <br />
<br />
But since that incident this “Man of Sorrow” is known as “Christ with a Toothache”.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska</span><br />
<br />
<i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for putting the legend on their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/06/21/flashcast-24-fade-haircut/">'FlashCast 24 - Fade Haircut'</a> !</i><br />
<br />
_Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-64905757558731123462011-07-06T21:19:00.002+02:002011-11-22T01:20:54.556+01:00Interlude #3: The Danube in ViennaRegarding to the latest legend post "<a href="http://vienneselegends.blogspot.com/2011/07/danube-maiden.html">The Danube Maiden</a>" I thought I show you a few pictures and some information of the Danube in Vienna today.<br />
I hope you'll enjoy!<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/I3xSsIkafmc?fs=1" width="425">&amp;lt;p&amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;lt;/p&amp;gt;</iframe><br />
<br />
_Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-9827443435290151522011-07-01T21:09:00.006+02:002011-11-22T01:17:09.780+01:00The Danube Maiden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Ytn80WWH4Yo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Many, many years ago the river Danube was split into several arms.<br />
In this beautiful wild landscape the Viennese fishermen lived in their simple wooden huts.<br />
<br />
When the Danube was frozen and the fishermen couldn’t do their work they sat together close to a warming oven and told their stories.<br />
<br />
So it came on a cold evening that a young handsome fisherman listened to his old father who was talking about the Danube maiden.<br />
<br />
He told his son about the glass palace at the bottom of the river where the maiden lived together with her father the Prince of the Danube and he also spoke about their desire to meet people, so he closed his story with the words, <br />
“On warm evenings the beautiful maiden comes out of the depths and sings for the people. Her voice is so wonderful and clear that everyone is enchanted. But take care my dear son; it often happens that young men are so attracted by her sweet voice that they are lost forever.<br />
<br />
The son saw his father’s sorrowful face, “Oh father, it’s just a tale. Don’t worry about me.”<br />
<br />
In that moment a sudden illumination fills their room. In the doorway she stood; a petite body wearing a long shimmering white dress, her black hair was adorned with white water lilies. Both father and son stared at the kind face of the beauty.<br />
<br />
“Don’t be afraid of me,” she said, “I won’t do you any harm. I’m just here to warn you. A strong southerly wind will melt the thick ice of the Danube very quickly and within a few days a big flood will carry away these huts here. Flee as fast as you can!”<br />
<br />
Then the wondrous figure disappeared and all was dark as before.<br />
<br />
Father and son warned their neighbours, then they packed the essentials and hurried to a save place.<br />
<br />
Everything happened as the Danube maiden had predicted.<br />
<br />
A few weeks later the water went back and the fishermen were able to return to their former dwelling places.<br />
They built up their huts again; they were happy and grateful that they had been saved from their certain death.<br />
<br />
Only the young fisherman couldn’t rejoice. He was longing for the beautiful creature of the Danube. As often as he could the dreamy and sad man sat on the banks of the river and looked into the flowing water. His father knew what that meant and so he tried hard to bring his son to other thoughts. - But all was in vain.<br />
<br />
On a hot summer evening the young fisherman climbed in his boat and rowed with slow strokes in the middle of the river.<br />
<br />
The next morning the fishermen found the empty boat and close beside they saw a crown of water lilies drifting on the river. His father knew that his son would never return.<br />
<br />
Since that day the Danube maiden was never seen again.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br />
Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for putting the legend on their </i></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="font-family: inherit;">'<a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/06/13/flashcast-23-the-legend-continues/">FlashCast 23 - The Legend Continues</a>' !</i></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
<br />
</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="176" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_eAGakVDU_g/Tg5XQYSmQdI/AAAAAAAAAVo/KZ6PUvQps1g/s400/Wien1493_Nuremberg_chronicles_f_098v99r_1.png" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woodcut of Vienna 1493</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
_</span>Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-74127536849912349912011-06-24T22:40:00.001+02:002011-11-22T01:17:31.906+01:00Godfather Death<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/0FvzrUEUifY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Once upon a time a very poor weaver named Paul Urssenbeck searched for a godfather for his twelfth child.<br />
He asked every relative and every acquaintance but no one was wealthy enough to take the responsibility for the sponsorship. <br />
<br />
On his way back home he had to walk through a piece of forest. His sorrows let him breathe heavily and with a sigh he spoke out loud, “Oh, I wish I could die.” <br />
<br />
That moment he felt an ice-cold hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw a tall spindly figure, “I am Death; you called me, what can I do for you?” <br />
<br />
Suddenly the weaver was more interested in staying alive than in dying but respectfully he told the grim reaper about his trouble. <br />
<br />
“Let me be godfather for your child. My christening present is neither gold nor silver, but I will confide you a secret that you can use for you.” <br />
<br />
The weaver thought, “Better a godfather without gift than no godfather,” and so he agreed. <br />
<br />
After the ceremony the black suited sponsor took the weaver aside, “The secret I’m telling you now is a chance for you to become famous and rich. Whenever a person is critically ill I am there. Of course no one can see me. When I stand at the foot the person will recover, but when I stand at the head the person must die. Now you have the gift to see me; and with this ability you can predict if a patient will live or die. Use this gift thoughtfully.” <br />
<br />
This was in fact a precious secret, and soon the poor man had the chance to use it. <br />
<br />
By and by the poor weaver became a well known and wealthy doctor. But the richer he was, the greedier he became. <br />
<br />
One day he was called to the emperor’s treasurer Wilhelm Graf Auersperg. He saw Death standing at the ill man’s head; and so he said, “I’m so sorry. His Excellency will die.” <br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tVZBGt-Infw/TgT1ebWBqeI/AAAAAAAAAUs/udHLT5716Mk/s1600/cef999f9-04b6-4cd4-9690-48e5ede9db62.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tVZBGt-Infw/TgT1ebWBqeI/AAAAAAAAAUs/udHLT5716Mk/s320/cef999f9-04b6-4cd4-9690-48e5ede9db62.jpg" width="164" /></a>A fortune was offered to him for the try to heal this man. The temptation was too big and so the doctor couldn’t resist. For a moment he thought what he could do. Then he ordered four strong men and told them to turn the bed around. <br />
<br />
Now Death stood at the foot, and so Graf Auersperg survived. <br />
<br />
Urssenbeck looked at Death and he saw fury in his eyes. <br />
<br />
With a very bad feeling the doctor took the money and hurried home. <br />
<br />
Suddenly Death stood beside him. “What have you done? Instead of the man’s life you’ve just saved I have to take yours now.” <br />
<br />
The doctor fell on his knees, “Have mercy…,” but Death had no mercy. <br />
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The next morning Urssenbeck’s dead body was found. He left an immense fortune and was buried at the cemetery of St. Stephen.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
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</span><i>Special thanks to <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">JRD Skinner</a> and the <a href="http://flashpulp.com/">Flash Pulp</a> Crew for putting the legend on their <a href="http://flashpulp.com/2011/05/31/flashcast-21-positive-feedback/">'FlashCast 21 - Positive Feedback</a>' !</i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
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</span>Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9195688466027390621.post-89030151442126595312011-06-19T01:42:00.002+02:002011-11-22T01:19:42.397+01:00Interlude #2: Exterior and interior scenes of St. Stephen's CathedralI just found these pictures of St. Stephen's Cathedral and thought I share them with you ...<br />
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_Ella or Ingridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075363187094296684noreply@blogger.com2