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A Demon of Noontime
A Poludnytsia is a spirit in Slavic folk belief, the embodiment of noon heat and heatstroke. In order to avoid her attacks, it was seen as best practice to avoid field work at the height of day.
I was so tired,to be honest, but the current weather conditions oblige to follow through with this suggestion. Hopefully the Lady is appeased and shall be merciful to us all, phew.
Summer melancholy and scorching heat
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Slavic monster high™ ghouls I designed!
They don't have names yet, but each is a child of some slavic folklore monster or pagan god.
― Slavic Gods, Sprits and Creatures Aesthetics, Part II. Part I.
'' Poludnitsa is a noon demon in Slavic mythology. She can be referred to in English as "Lady Midday", "Noonwraith" or "Noon Witch". She was usually pictured as a young woman dressed in white that roamed field bounds. She assailed folk working at noon, causing heatstrokes and aches in the neck; sometimes she even caused madness. Poludnitsa, who makes herself evident in the middle of hot summer days, takes the form of whirling dust clouds and carries a scythe, sickle or shears; most likely the shears would be of an older style, not akin to modern scissors. She will stop people in the field to ask them difficult questions or engage them in conversation. If anyone fails to answer a question or tries to change the subject, she will cut off their head or strike them with illness. She may appear as an old hag, a beautiful woman, or a 12-year-old girl, and she was useful in scaring children away from valuable crops. She is only seen on the hottest part of the day and is a personification of a sun-stroke. ''
The noonwraith
Monster Girl October Tarot day 19: Poludnitsa from Chłopi and other Slavic tales as the 9 of wands card!
The 9 of wands suggests fatigue, exhaustion, but the perseverance to keep going. Lady Midday, Poludnitsa, is a noon time spirit/wraith/demon said to plague farmers with heat stroke, pain, or madness. She also may challenge you to an impossible dance contest or a series of questions! For the 9 of wands, I imagined Poludnitsa's threat as a good warning to avoid burning out, but to work hard in a way that allows you to keep going. (I also LOVE the idea of a monster that attacks at the heat of the day rather than at midnight or in darkness!)
The Girl Who Walked in Sunshine;
Or, The Demon of Midday
Zuzanna was a milkmaid,
The fairest in the town.
With plaits so long that when she bent,
They nearly touched the ground.
On Mondays she churned butter,
On Tuesdays she made pie;
And soon the sun and day were done,
Her weeks went quickly by.
And then one day,
One cursed day,
Her livelihood was lost.
Her precious cows
Were gone somehow,
At such a dreadful cost.
They would not drink, they would not eat,
They foamed and swayed and fell.
By morning light, all dead from blight—
Some sickness, curse, or spell.
Zuzanna didn't worry,
Zuzanna didn't pout.
Zuzanna put her apron on,
And swiftly she went out.
The sun was shining brightly,
The day was still and clear.
Zuzanna grabbed her father's scythe
To reap a field quite near.
The men were sweating o’er the grain,
Their backs beat red or brown.
They watched her walk in linen white,
Away from home and town.
Her scythe struck fast,
A silver flash
Against the golden stalk.
Her skin so fair,
Her shoulder bare,
They couldn't help but gawk.
The sunlight caught
Her ankle pale,
Her bosom bore a sheen.
But they forgot
It was too hot;
Her scythe swung sharp and keen.
They took no ale,
They took no bread,
So taken by her swaying.
No shade, no rest,
They felt so blessed;
Their longing felt like praying.
The sun rose high
And searing bright,
The air, it hazed and shimmered.
They blinked their eyes;
To their surprise,
Zuzanna’s form grew dimmer.
No longer maid,
They saw her true:
No face, just pallid skull.
‘Neath blossom crown,
Her eyes did flame,
Her scythe raised high to cull.
“The Wraith of Noon!”
They hoarsely cried,
“A Demon on our land!”
And saw indeed
Some fallen in
The field where they did stand.
Their pitchforks rose,
Their eyes went wild,
They chased her through the grain.
She begged and cried,
Nowhere to hide,
No rest 'til she'd been slain.
They dragged her to
The center square,
As shadows bled to red.
“She's cursed the cows
And damned the wheat;
The village needs her dead.”
They piled the wood
Into a pyre,
Around her trembling frame.
The torch was cast,
The spark took fast,
And fanned into a flame.
Her golden plaits
Turned dark as soot,
Her white dress turned to coal.
The fire licked down
Her floral crown,
As she prayed for her soul.
Beneath the blaze,
As warm as day,
Her bones gleamed bright and white.
A skeleton
In blossom crown,
A goddess of the light.
Forever wreathed
In midday heat,
Her time on earth was done.
The girl who walked
In sunshine
Had become a second sun.
Południca
This was supposed to be a quick shitty doodle to figure out colours idk what happened. Also ive been drawing a lot of wheat lately idk why
