Kludde [Flemish folklore]
While bridges aren’t particularly scary of themselves, you might be surprised by how many evil bridge spirits there are in world mythology. Kludde, for example, is an evil spirit from Flemish folklore. He spent his time underneath bridges and could be recognized by the sound of the heavy iron chain that he has to wear on his ankle (in some versions, he has iron chains all over his body). When travelers are walking on the country roads at night, Kludde would suddenly jump on their neck, after which the innocent traveler has no choice but to give the creature a ride for the duration of the night. Depending on the story, he can also shapeshift into a giant black bird, a cat or a giant dog. How dangerous he is varies between different versions of the folklore, but his appearance as a giant dog is his most common depiction.
According to the story, the creature attacked a poor woman at night. Desperate to escape, she threw the things she was carrying at her assailant. A piece of cloth ended up in the mouth of the creature, getting stuck between its fangs and confusing it for long enough to give the woman an opportunity to run away. The next morning, she talked to all the men in the village. One young man, an unassuming servant, had fibers stuck between his teeth that matched the piece of cloth the woman had been carrying that night. The villagers banded together and formed an angry mob to chase the servant away. And the village never heard from Kludde again.
The second image shows Kludde (on the left) how he is depicted in the Suske & Wiske comics, which every Belgian kid is familiar with. This image is from the comic “De Zwarte Madam” from 1949. In this series, Kludde is usually depicted as a short dwarfish man with a fish tail, emphasizing his role as a bridge spirit.
Schelle – in Antwerpen – has a regional tale about Kludde: the people of a common household were talking at the dinner table one day, as usual, until someone brought up Kludde. Immediately, the sound of heavy iron chains was heard coming from the hallway, and everyone kept silent because they feared they accidentally summoned Kludde. The family started praying and the sound eventually stopped, but none of them managed to get some sleep at night. The family learned their lesson and didn’t carelessly talk about evil spirits again (come to think of it, I suppose you shouldn’t read this post out loud) but the next morning, they heard the sound again. This couldn’t continue, so the family went to the town butcher: a strong and kindhearted man who lived right across the street. The butcher, brave as always, said: “if this ever happens again, just slip out through the back door and come get me.”
As was expected, the spirit was heard again the next night. The father of the family went to fetch the butcher and true to his word, the butcher came along and took his giant cleaver with him. Fearlessly he opened the front door, and a giant dog with flaming eyes was sitting in the hallway. But the brave butcher was having none of his bullshit and slashed away without warning. Not expecting resistance, Kludde was heavily wounded and fled, never to return again.
Another story, coming from Moorsel, tells of a young boy named Benoit Wouters, a servant and no older than 14. He worked and lived at a farm, only coming home to his mother on Sundays to bring the money he earned and his dirty clothes. One night, when he left home to return to the farm, a large dog jumped on his back. The boy couldn’t shake it off and had to carry Kludde all the way to the farm, where the dog – apparently capable of speech – said “nu heb ik u vastgehad, hé!” which literally translates to “now I got you!” but a better translation would be something like “surprise, it’s a prank!”. The dog jumped off his back and disappeared into the night, but a tuft of Benoits hair turned grey, and it always remained that way.
Sources:
Vlaams Sagenboek, by K. C. Peeters, Davidsfonds, Leuven
https://volksverhalen.be/kludde
(image 1 from volksverhalen.be)
(image 2: “Suske & Wiske: De Zwarte Madam” by Willy Vandersteen)
