Spirits & Creatures Series Collection: Household Spirits, Rusalki, Dragons & Dragon Tales

Contents

A Study of Household Spirits of Eastern Europe

Foreword

Kikimora (Кикимора)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Domovoi (Домовой)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Stopan (Стопан)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Talasum (Tаласъм)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Smok (Смок)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Bannik (Банник)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Ovinnik (Овинник)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Dvorovoi (Дворовой)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Hovanets (Хованец)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Afterword

A Study of Rusalki – Slavic Mermaids of Eastern Europe

Introduction

Rusalka (Русалка)

Getting to Know Rusalki

Rusalka Week

Magical Healers

Rusalki in Literature

Supplemental Material

Appendix: The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen

A Study of Dragons of Eastern Europe

Editorial Reviews

Author’s Note

In the Beginning Was ... the Dragon

Supplemental Chapter Material

Smok (Смок)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Zmey (Змей)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Hala (Хала)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Lamia (Ламя)

Supplemental Chapter Material

Balaur

Supplemental Chapter Material

Zmeu

Supplemental Chapter Material

Dragon Slayers

Supplemental Chapter Material

Dragon Tales of Eastern Europe

Here Be Dragons

Vitazko the Victorious

Miklosh and the Magic Queen

Batcha and the Dragon

The Laughing Apples and the Weeping Quinces

Ivan Popyalof

Dawn, Twilight, and Midnight

The Castle in Cloudland

The Seven Stars

The World-beautiful Sharkan Roja

Ivan the Peasant’s Son

The Dragon and the Gypsy

Peerless Beauty, the Cake-Baker

Little Rolling-pea

The Golden Apples and the Nine Peahens

About the Author

Artist Profiles

Special Offer

Bibliography

End Notes

Foreword

This series about spirits and creatures from Eastern Europe developed from an idea about a future book in the Dragon Village series. In the first story, Unborn Hero, a character possesses a book called Lamia’s Bible, which holds the secrets of all the mythical creatures in Zmeykovo (Dragon Village). I wondered what those secrets might be. If I owned a magical book, I’d want to know the weak spots in my adversary’s character. How could I defeat each creature? How could I control them? I began my research with Kikimora and discovered a wealth of information—too much to include in a magical tome, but too much to discard as well. Thus, this book about household spirits begged to be written.

My original intent was for the book to contain beings that appear only in Bulgarian folklore—whether from Thracian, Slavic, or Proto-Bulgarian origins—since the focus of my work to date has dealt with Bulgaria. But again, as I extended my research beyond Kikimora, many of the Slavic spirits I came across were not popular in Bulgaria, but they add so much color to the world of Eastern Europe that to exclude them would have been a loss to the reader.

The stories and other information from across Eastern Europe vary from country to country, and even from region to region. I have compiled that information into a composite whole to paint a picture of each spirit. There are so many more spirits, too many to include in this book. What I have included are some of the most popular, plus a few that may be obscure.

Many, if not all, of the beliefs and rituals about these spirits originate from pagan times. When Christianity dominated the region, double-belief became popular—a mixture of Christian-orthodox and pagan belief systems. The old gods may have vanished or become insignificant, often being replaced with the saints. However, the lesser divinities, including the spirits, remained. Christianity did not replace the old beliefs; it merely added to them. Peasants viewed the new religious beliefs relevant for their life after death, but to survive in this life, they believed they needed the protection of the spirits who lurked everywhere.

This book is meant to be fun, to inform you about these fascinating spirits, to give you a glimpse into a culture you may be unfamiliar with. You’ll experience the spirits through more than words. Where I could, I’ve included various artistic interpretations of the spirits: in art, music, and video, as well as in literature, both old and new. I’ve also included additional material to enhance your understanding of the people and their culture.

As you read this book, imagine you live in a rural area, filled with the unknown. You make your living from the land, where nature is sacred. She can be harsh or she can provide you with plenty. Understand that all of these beliefs and rituals have not completely faded from existence. You can still find places where these spirits are a part of people’s lives. Who’s to say they’re wrong? I certainly won’t.

Whether you believe or not, it’s an enlightening journey discovering these spirits who have existed at least on the pages of stories and have spread from one generation to the next by word of mouth. I hope it will be a journey you’ll enjoy and remember.

Kikimora (Кикимора)

From a Kikimora don’t expect a shirt.

Kikimora. Illustration by Anna Błaszczyk (Evelinea Erato). © Bendideia Publishing.

Kikimora (singular); Kikimori or Kikimory (plural)

Other names: kikamora, kikimara, shishimora, shishimara, mara, suceka, gizmo, shishiga,[1] domnitza,[2] domania, domovikha,[3] domikha, domavikha, domavichka.[4]

Slang: Refers to an ugly, ill-tempered woman who wears shabby clothing. She’s forever grumbling and making her husband’s life (and that of other men) unbearable.[5] Other women stamped with a negative connotation of this name:

Those with funny, ridiculous, sloppy, or untidy appearances.

The unsociable or wicked.

Cheaters and deceivers.

Those who are homely.

Beggars.

Being called a Kikimora can also be positive, as women who diligently work with yarn are seen as the industrious Kikimora who never slows down.

Kikimora. Illustration by Nelinda. © Bendideia Publishing.

Etymology

Various sources suggest different possible origins for the word Kikimora:

It may have come from an old Finnish word kikke mörkö[6] or a Finn-Urgic word kikka-murt (scarecrow; literally bag-made person).[7]

It could come from a phrase meaning malicious spirit of Mara.[8]

Mora has been connected to the mare part of nightmare.[9] Many sources, however, say that Mora is a different creature, that the Kikimora is not the one who causes nightmares. (See more about this topic later in this chapter.)

Mora is also a Slavic word connected with the souls of the dead.[10]

Mora has a connection with morgue and moribund, and the spirit has a relationship with other creatures that personify disease or death.[11]

Others have suggested the word may have originated from the French word cauchemar for nightmare.[12] This may be derived from Shishimora, an alternate Russian word for a Kikimora, where shish is a demon.[13]

Another suggestion is that the word is from the Balto-Slavic kik (kyk, kuk) for crookedness or hunchback, and the Slavic mor for death.[14]

Kikimora may come from an Old Ruthenian (term used in Western Europe for the ancestors of modern Eastern Slavic people) word, kykati, which means howl.[15]

Similarly, another source says a Kikimora could be "a mara who cries (kikaet, kichet, kychet)"—an onomatopoeic word that describes the call of a bird—thus making the name related to the sound she makes, rather than her appearance.[16]

The Kikimora entry on the Russian Wikipedia lists several other variations of the name and sources of origin.[17]

Do you hear creaking, scratching sounds coming from the walls and floors, or the clatter of pots at night? Are objects not where you placed them the day before? Has yarn become tangled and a garment’s stitches pulled out? All these may be signs a Kikimora lives in your house. This female spirit causes havoc from dusk until dawn. As daylight approaches, she slips away—afraid of the light—and becomes invisible, hiding in crevices behind a hearth or stove, or in the cellar or attic, or perhaps even under floorboards.

The Kikimora prefers to live in an occupied residence, although she also has been known to dwell in abandoned buildings, taverns, bathhouses, threshing floors, hen houses, and stables. You’re certain to find her inhabiting unclean or cursed places such as a building set by a crossroads or fork or near a cemetery, in a house that has burned, or one where a person committed suicide.

Stand back, Superman. A Kikimora has some super powers of her own: she can become invisible, run fast, and see long distances. She’s restless, constantly on the move and jumping around making noises. You’ll find that she’s most active spinning during times people are forbidden to spin: midnight, Fridays, Christmas Eve, and other special occasions.

Variations of the Spirit

In olden days, the Kikimora predominantly occupied homes, and this chapter will concentrate on her in this capacity. Variations of the Kikimora living in fields, forests (Leschikha), or swamps (Bolotnik) are more prevalent today, and they deserve a brief mention here.

Stories advise you to avoid walking in a pea field in the summer or you may meet a Kikimora carrying a pan large enough to fry you on—because that is her intent if she catches you. You should skirt the woods as well. It’s there that the Kikimora Leschikha, along with her partner-in-crime Leshy, carries unsuspecting or lost people off into the forest—never to be seen again. And if you happen to stroll along a marshy area, beware of the Kikimora often called a Bolotnik, a creature who frightens passersby and kidnaps children. This spirit wraps herself in moss like a fur coat and weaves forest grass through her hair instead of ribbons. If she happens to feel lonely and enters your home, she’ll leave a trail of wet footprints wherever she’s wandered during the night.

The Kikimora has been associated with the witch Baba Yaga, who also has a link to chickens. In addition, she’s been credited with being the mother or sister of a Rusalka (mermaid), the hostess for a Vodyanoy or Vodnik (water creatures), and having a connection with marsh witches, werewolf shifters, spirits causing hysteria and fever, and the personification of various diseases. She travels from one place to another in folklore, much more than other spirits and creatures who stay in their designated area.

Kikimora in the Swamp.

By Денисов, Василий Иванович [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Published in the U.S. before 1923 and public domain in the U.S.

Origins

A Kikimora can be created in some rather gruesome ways.

The death of an unholy child: a stillborn, miscarried, or aborted infant, or one who dies shortly after birth before it has been baptized.

A child who’s suffered a wrongful death, such as one who was murdered.

After the death of a child with some sort of abnormality, such as no arms or legs.

When a dead child has been buried beneath a home’s foundation (which was a common practice).

At the gravesite of a person who committed suicide.

A child is cursed by his/her parents. This allows evil spirits to snatch the child from the home. This can occur even when the child is within its mother’s womb. Be advised not to utter the words, The old devil fetch thee! to your children, for that master of deceit will come immediately and take your offspring away and raise them as his own. When these children become adults, they are invisible—neither human nor devils, but they fear the cross and holy water.

A child kidnapped by a Kikimora can become one herself. When the spirit steals a child, she leaves something in return: the Kikimora’s own offspring, an enchanted object, or even a mossy log.

A woman who dies suddenly, especially if it occurs during labor.

An elderly female ancestor whose soul has not left this world.

A doll created by a sorcerer and hidden somewhere in the house can turn into a Kikimora. (See another explanation of this doll later in this chapter.)

If a black cat jumps over the grave of someone recently deceased, the person will turn into a Kikimora or vampire.

The child of a human and serpent-like evil spirit.

In some stories, the sire of a Kikimora flies through the air, emitting sparks on the roof, then enters the house through the chimney. He appears to a grieving woman as the illusion of her lost love.

In other stories, he leaves enchanted gifts—such as combs, ribbons, and jewelry—along the road for girls who have lost their innocence before marriage. Once they bring the objects into their home, the evil spirit has free entry. In the morning, after the woman’s treacherous lover has left, the gifts turn to sand, ash, or manure.

If the girl doesn’t die from the encounter with the evil spirit, her pregnancy can last up to three years. Any child that survives birth is born black, has hoofs, is hunchbacked and hairy, and has pointed features and small eyes. It becomes a blessing to the mother when the evil spirit sprints his offspring away to become a new Kikimora.

In other situations, parents may fear that if their child behaves differently, people may call him a child of a Kikimora as is the case in the example below:

Nor ever think, I earnestly entreat,

Of burdening childhood’s years with bookish lore.

Already do our neighbours think Ivan

A startling prodigy of infant-wit;

But were he seen with manuscript in hand,

With one accord they would pronounce the boy

Addicted to the necromantic art,

Or view him else as kikimora wild.[18]

As the above story continued, the parents decided to avoid having their child learn to read at such a young age.

Appearance

Descriptions of a Kikimora have run the gamut—from tall to short, young to old, female to male or even animal—although mostly she’s an ugly, hunchbacked hag with straggly, long hair covered by a kerchief—a tradition among married Slavic women. The Kikimora’s face may be somewhat human, but deformed.

On occasion she appears as a beautiful, young temptress with a long braid, or even with her hair flowing freely and uncovered in the way of unmarried women. She might be barefoot and naked or dressed in a simple white, red, or black shirt, without the usual embroidered embellishments of the Slavic people.

Depending on how the house spirit came into existence, she may also resemble a family member’s ancestor: mother, grandmother, or great-grandmother.

The most common description, however, portrays her as a petite—verging on scrawny—unkempt woman wearing dirty, ragged clothing. Her body is covered with sparse, short feathers or wool. She is so thin she fears going outside in bad weather, in case the wind blows her away. She has a thimble-sized head; goat horns and a tail; bright, bulging eyes; a long, thin nose or a beak; clawed or crooked hairy hands with bony fingers; long arms; and short legs ending in chicken feet.

Kikimora. Illustration © Andy Paciorek. Used with permission of the artist.

Getting to Know the Kikimora

While you sleep, the Kikimora slinks out of her hiding place with the intent to do mischief. She loves to sit at a spinning wheel all night. She may also occupy her time with weaving, needlework, or mending a shirt. Granted, if she attempts to work on any project you haven’t hidden from her, you’re likely to find the yarn lumpy and tangled, and the shirt stitches uneven. But on the bright side, despite her nightlong efforts, she normally makes little to no progress. To help prevent this disaster, Slavic women recite protection prayers when they’ve finished their domestic activities for the day.

You’ll have a better chance the spirit won’t cause quite as much damage, however, if you keep a tidy house. She favors women who live traditional lives—cooking, child-rearing, household activities—and those who perform their work skillfully and graciously.

Your house spirit may even finish your chores (baking bread or washing dishes), take care of the children (rocking a sleeping infant or sending a child good dreams), and tend to your animals (feeding and grooming them). At times, the Kikimora will act as a guardian and save your family’s home during a fire by driving away the flames with a handkerchief—and most likely a little magic. But she’ll do these tasks only if you’ve left your home in a way that meets her approval.

An Unhappy Spirit

If your house is untidy, be forewarned, she’s adverse to living in a messy home and is certain to let you know of her disapproval after you’ve tucked yourself under the sheets. You’ll hear her moaning, whistling, or whining—the noises often sounding like the spinning wheel she loves so much. She’ll stamp her feet, clang pots and pans, break dishes, and turn your food sour. Doors will open and slam shut as she runs from one room to the next, her feet sounding like scuttling cockroaches or mice. She’ll turn tables and chairs upside down and scrape furniture across the floor, making the pieces bounce as if dancing—all in her pursuit to keep you from sleeping. If you smell smoke, she probably has set your kitchen towels on fire.

That’s not all. If she can make it into the bedrooms, she’ll mess up your sheets, tug on your earlobes, and pull out your hair while you’re off in dreamland. Her preferred method to torture your children is tickling them until they scream. If you happen to be awake when she emerges from her hidey hole, she’s likely to throw things at you: anything from shoes to bricks to coals.

Her antics when she’s upset are not confined to the home. If you have animals, she gets pleasure out of tormenting them as well: she’ll pluck a chicken’s feathers and scare the fowl so they don’t lay eggs; she’ll shear a sheep’s wool, ride horses to make them stampede, and cause the milk from goats and cows to go dry.

When you leave your bedroom in the morning, don’t be surprised if you discover no mess at all. On the other hand, even if you see swarming spiders, scuttling rats, and hordes of bats, and your home appears filthier than you left it, these may be illusions she’s created, tricks to make you leave her gifts so she’ll set things right the next evening.

Kikimora. Tale N. Manaseinoy. With drawings by T. Hippius. As daughters, or as sisters, take me, good people.

By Гиппиус Татьяна Николаевна (1877-1957) (Журнал «Тропинка». 1909. №20) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Bearer of News

Besides being a prankster, a Kikimora acts as a guardian, using her psychic abilities to warn her family of impending disaster—not in word, but by her appearance, action, and behavior. If you see her sitting by the front entrance, someone from the household will be certain to receive unhappy news or suffer misfortune. Her crying and moaning may foreshadow the death of a family member.

Witnessing or hearing a Kikimora spinning is another sign someone is about to die. The wheel creaks and groans—quite like how her name spoken aloud sounds. Some people compare her to the Fates, who spin to control a person’s destiny. It’s no wonder, then, that spinning occupies her time, since from ancient times, the spinning wheel has been an instrument symbolic of fate. People say this is how the Kikimora creates magic she can use for evil purposes.

If you want to extract details about any misfortune from her, you have to wait until you hear her child crying. Throw a cloth on the floor, stove, or wherever the noise is coming from. The spirit will go crazy because she won’t be able to find and comfort her child. She’ll answer any question you ask, hoping you’ll remove the cloth and let her go to her child.

Modes of Entry

Once the Kikimora is inside your home, she roams about at will. Your neighbors may even get a visit from her—although probably not on a windy day. Since she’s so scrawny, she’ll blow away.

As described earlier, one of the ways a Kikimora can take up residence in your home is through the death of an infant or her mother. If your house happens to have been built upon a location that was considered unclean—such as near where a person who committed suicide has been buried—you may also find the spirit lurking in your residence.

Other ways exist as well for a Kikimora to enter your home. For one, you may unwittingly invite her in. She’s a master of deceit, who pretends to be someone in need, such as a lost child. What compassionate person would turn away such a waif? She can also appear as animals, plants, or objects that you pick up and bring home.

Revenge also plays a role in how a Kikimora ends up in newly built homes or other buildings. If you’re unhappy with the cost or quality of the work from the carpenters or the stove-maker you’ve hired,[19] think twice before you complain to them. They may take offense and have a sorcerer capture the spirit of a Kikimora and place it inside a chudinka,[20] a wooden or rag ceremonial doll that’s sometimes soaked in blood. The builders will then hide the doll in a hard-to-find place—oftentimes under the ceiling beam, between logs at the front corner of the house, in the roof rafters or basement, beneath the stove, or in a woodpile. This type of Kikimora is usually quite aggressive toward people.

Kikimora. Tale N. Manaseinoy. With drawings by T. Hippius. Kikimora is running, she is running very thin, little and black.

By Гиппиус Татьяна Николаевна (1877-1957) (Журнал «Тропинка». 1909. №20) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

On the Dark Side

A Kikimora can cause suffocation, sleep paralysis, or nightmares—to the point where your affliction makes you ill and die, or gives you thoughts about suicide.

Most references attribute this nightmare stalking to a different creature called a Mora, Mara, or the goddess Marena. She is said to be the soul of a living person who leaves her body at night, or she can pass from a witch’s lips in the form of a butterfly. You can tell it’s her because she appears as a wisp of straw or hair, or even as a moth. She manifests in nightmares as a spirit who covers your eyes with mist, distorts your sense of reality, and pushes you toward dangerous places. Perhaps over time and across cultures, one creature evolved into two: Mara and Kikimora.

Jan Máchal describes her as follows:

It is a general Slavic belief that souls may pass into a Mora, a living being, either man or woman, whose soul goes out of the body at night-time, leaving it as if dead. Sometimes two souls are believed to be in such a body, one of which leaves it when asleep; and a man may be a Mora from his birth, in which case he has bushy, black eyebrows, growing together above his nose. The Mora, assuming various shapes, approaches the dwellings of men at night and tries to suffocate them; she is either a piece of straw, or a white shadow, or a leather bag, or a white mouse, a cat, a snake, a white horse, etc. First she sends refreshing slumber to men and then, when they are asleep, she frightens them with terrible dreams, chokes them, and sucks their blood. For the most part she torments children, though she also throws herself upon animals, especially horses and cows, and even injures and withers trees, so that various means are employed to get rid of her.[21]

This invisible being brings you nightmares by sitting on your chest while you sleep, the weight crushing the air from your lungs, causing you to scream in your dreams. You may even experience a sensation of something sucking on your body like a vampire.

Upon waking from a nightmare, you may find a blue spot on your body where the spirit sat upon you. In the ways of the Slavic people, you can curse the creature who disrupted your sleep by saying, The mora pressed me.

The household spirit appears to both sleeping men and women as a beautiful, young female. In the dreams of a man, she enflames his desire for her. While for a woman, she stirs up jealousies and suspicions of unfaithfulness. Both nightmares cause havoc in a couple’s relationship.

The following tale about a Mora tells how she can shape-shift into an animal or a tuft of hair with the intent of tormenting her victim.

Once a Mora so tormented a man that he left his home, took his white horse and rode away. But wherever he wandered the Mora followed after him. At last he stopped to pass the night in a certain house, the master of which heard him groaning terribly in his sleep, so he went to look at him. Then he saw that his guest was being suffocated by a long tuft of white hair which lay over his mouth. So he cut it in two with a pair of scissors. Next morning the white horse was found dead. The horse, the tuft of hair, and the nightmare, were all one.[22]

Kikimora. Figure by Ivan Bilibin, 1934. [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

No More Nightmares

You have several options to protect yourself—and especially your children—from nightmares brought on by the spirit:

Block the keyholes to bedroom doors by keeping a key in the opening or stuffing it with paper.

If you suspect the spirit is already in your bedroom, avoid eye contact at all costs. The Kikimora may catch you unaware, so don’t look at anything that has a keyhole: doors, dressers, chests, wardrobes, or cabinets. She may be lurking inside. Look out the window or turn your pillow toward where you think she is and make the sign of the cross on it.

Leave a broom upside down behind your bedroom door.

Place a belt on top of your bedsheets.

Recite a prayer or poem before you get into bed.

Make the sign of the cross and pray over objects in your home so the Kikimora won’t touch them.

Wear a protection amulet made of Purple Loosestrife around your neck or wrist. Legends say this plant grew from the tears the Virgin Mary shed at the crucifixion of Christ. It’s best if you gather the plant on the Russian holiday of Ivan Kupala, celebrated on June 24 (July 7 in the Julian calendar). Or you could try charms made with white onions or black beads.

Carry a Bible with you.

If you feel the spirit sitting on you at night, try moving the big toe of your right leg to free yourself of her weight.

Preventive Maintenance

If a Kikimora hasn’t already invaded your home, the surest way to prevent her from taking up residence is to keep keys or paper in the keyholes of any doors coming into the house in the same manner that you keep her out of your bedroom. Another option is to bury a silver object near entryways or sprinkle salt around the outside of the doorway. You can also make crosses with chalk, paint, or coal in each corner of your house, by faucets, and by the well to keep her out.

Remember, she’s a spirit: she’s able to sneak through the smallest gaps and windows, so even these tactics may not be enough. But don’t worry, even though she’ll be difficult to get rid of, it’s not impossible. More complex rituals exist that you can try.

Getting Rid of a Kikimora

You can’t kill the spirit since she already belongs to someone who died, although some people claim if you throw a cross on her, she’ll cease to exist. Another method to try to get rid of her is by attaching camel wool onto the arch of the kitchen stove using a type of resin.

If the spirit originates from a cursed child, you can cut a cross on the top of her head. This will turn her back into a human—albeit one who now has a disability: muteness, stammering, poor memory, or dementia. That’s a terrible thing to do to a child you only think is a Kikimora.

If none of those methods work, it’s likely going to take someone knowledgeable in how to expel demons to remove the Kikimora—especially if an enemy left a chudinka doll in your house. You’ll have to go back to the sorcerer who created the doll to help you find it. If that fails, locating the offending doll requires ripping apart your house. The owner must hack away at the bottommost boards and say, Here’s to you, and that’s for that.[23] After you’ve found the doll, you’ll have to burn it to rid your home of the spirit.

Good luck with any of those options.

A better way—if you can wait—is to attempt this yourself on Gerasim Grachevnik, March 17 (or March 4 in the Julian calendar). Although ordering the Kikimora out of your home won’t work most days, it will on this holiday since the spirit is more complacent and obedient.

What better day to attempt to remove evil influences than on a saint’s day? It’s a good occasion to literally sweep her out of your house—just in time for spring cleaning. Get your broom and swish away at the hearth, the corners of all rooms, the basement, the attic—anywhere the spirit may be hiding. Removing the dirt is not enough; you must also recite:

Get out of here, Kikimora. Get away quickly from my home, or I will chase you with iron bars; I will set you on fire with fiery fire; I will pour black pitch on you. My words are strong and cast from now up to a century![24]

When you’ve finished, take the dirt and debris far from your home and burn it.

If you successfully remove the Kikimora, she’ll be unable to return as long as rooks have settled in your yard—at least until autumn when the birds migrate. Why rooks? Because they’re associated with the Russian holiday Gerasim Grachevnik, which, much like the Bulgarian holiday Blagovets (March 25), is a day to welcome spring. While in Bulgaria, people look for the return of the cuckoo, in Russia, it’s the rook appearing on this day (grak is the Russian word for rook). Not only does the bird eat insects in your yard, it also keeps out evil spirits from both inside and outside of your home.

Appeasing the Kikimora

If you can’t get rid of her, you can try to keep her happy—and hope she doesn’t behave too badly. The following approaches may make this house spirit less confrontational:

The easiest way to get along with a Kikimora has already been mentioned: keep your house clean and tidy! Nothing infuriates her more than mess and clutter. To rephrase a popular saying, If Kikimora ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

The Kikimora is fond of ferns. If you wash your dishes, pots, and pans with water in which you’ve boiled ferns, she’ll no longer damage the kitchenware.

You’ll also want to try a few methods to protect your farm animals, if you have any.

While a Kikimora likes ferns, juniper scares her. If you have chickens, hang juniper twigs above their coop. This will prevent the Kikimora from stealing eggs and tormenting the fowl.

If juniper isn’t available, you can tie the neck of a broken jar over the place where the chickens roost or on barn doors.

You can also call on the protection of the Kurinyi Bog or chicken god, a spirit living inside a special stone. To do this, hang a black adder (a stone that has a natural hole bored all the way through it) by a string inside the chicken coop. This amulet has also been called a one-eyed kikimora.[25] For best results, do this on January 1 (January 14 in the Julian calendar), which is Silvestrov Day, or Sylvester’s Day. While cleaning out the coop, it’s a good idea to also clear out any other lurking evil spirits with incense or the smoke from burning embers.

Kurinyi Bog or Chicken God. Illustration by Dmitry Yakhovsky. © Bendideia Publishing.

Fact or Fiction?

This may all sound like the workings of a fanciful mind, but people in the past and still today believe that strange happenings are the result of spirits. A few stories follow.

Early Accounts

The first historical mention of a Kikimora was in 1635 where she was described as an unclean spirit who ‘made many dirty tricks’ in the house, destroyed horses and frightened away the cow herd. Another reference occurs in old Russian literature around the 1640s to 1650s:

While we were coming from this city [Kostroma], the road that goes to Moscow, suddenly we met a certain demon in a woman’s appearance, simply hairless and without a belt. Its tail was sticking up to the sky, turning like a big circle, and all sorts of demonic dreams were cast.[26]

Earlier in this chapter, you learned that due to her spinning, the Kikimora is similar to the Fates of Greek mythology, but she may have links to an even older deity. Her association with spinning, wool, and protection of women and the home indicates she may have a connection with Mokosh, Slavic goddess of spinning, weaving, mothers, and unmarried girls.

Beware Stray Objects

The Kikimora has appeared in the news in more recent times as well. In 1977, a group of researchers visited a Russian village and recorded stories about a poltergeist type of being causing havoc.[27] The residents claimed it was a devil or Kikimora, whom one man’s wife had unintentionally brought into her home. While down at the bathhouse, she found a lovely handkerchief, which she picked up and carried into her house. From that point onward, strange things happened in the village:

People saw a young girl (or sometimes a woman) who wasn’t from the village sitting in a shed and a bathhouse, combing her long, yellow, silky hair. No one, however, could recall specifics about her appearance.

The spirit hurled items at people: felt boots, a stove door (which cut one man’s forehead), a knife, mittens, and an axe (flat side aimed toward the man, not seriously harming him).

People found items in places other than where they had left them: in particular, someone (the spirit presumably) had moved a barrel of frozen water from a house to a shed.

Strange footsteps in households sometimes sounded like a bird, other times like boots.

Villagers attempted to rid themselves of the spirit, first by calling on a priest. An unnatural force tossed the holy man’s prayer books from the house. The police, too, found their possessions hidden after they pitched a tent near the house the Kikimora occupied.

For up to six years, strange phenomena occurred until one day, the owner’s home was engulfed in a blue flame—only it wasn’t on fire. When this cold fire, as they called it, disappeared, so did the Kikimora.

The appearance of a blue flame has occurred among the Finno-Ugric people as well. Called the ort, or doppelganger soul, it’s associated with the prediction of a person’s impending death. A blue flame is said to flare up after the appearance of the ort.

Harmless Pranks

In another village, similar incidents occurred. They called the mischief-maker a bubula. The pranks it played were harmless:

Moving furniture.

Throwing dishes.

Making a samovar filled with tea jump on the table.

Causing rifles standing upright in a corner to dance by themselves.

Tossing items on a stove onto the floor in an empty house.

A Kind Soul

Today, various groups of people take offense at bad reports circulating about the Kikimora. They say the creature is benevolent—and no more harmful than the Domovoi, the male house spirit whom many people encourage to inhabit their homes. In fact, they say the Kikimora assists those who dwell in the home she occupies, and shows them how to escape harm. She will even help you get rid of spirits that are even more bothersome than she is. They refute the belief that a person seeing the Kikimora spinning will die.

Supplemental Chapter Material

Fun Facts

Did you know...?

Writing a curse on birch bark makes it stick to the first victim who passes a crossroad (Dynda, 70).

Did you know...?

A Kikimora sings with her daughter, a Rusalka (mermaid), their magical music luring solitary travelers into a watery death (Russian Wikipedia, Кикимора).

Did you know...?

When a marsh Kikimora brews beer, fog rises over the river (Russian Wikipedia, Кикимора).

Did you know...?

You can communicate with a hiding Kikimora. Ask her a question. If she knocks once on the wall, it means yes; two knocks indicate no. Anything else, and she’s messing with you (Tooke, 100).

Did you know...?

A genus of spiders has been named after the household spirit—the Kikimora palustris.

Sidebars

Lurking in the Dark

Think back to your childhood days. You’re asleep in bed, but a noise downstairs wakes you. What could it be? Your parents have told you about creatures that come out at night to cause mischief—and even to steal children. Are they real? You creep out of bed and peek through a crack in the floor. There. Something moved in the darkness. Two creatures: Domovoi and Kikimora! The terrifying female looks up and catches your eye.

Hide, close your eyes, sleep!

If you can’t see her, then she can’t see you. You slip beneath the covers. Unknown to you, a hand reaches out...

Add spooky music and animated characters and you get Domovoi and Kikimora, a short animation directed by Lily Goodchild and Nicola Everill, produced at Staffordshire University.

Watch the clip and feel the terror: https://vimeo.com/66619155.

Inspired by Slavic mythology. A film about scavenger spirits and the child who spies on them. Video and image copyright Lily Goodchild and Nicola Everill, Directors, Domovoi and Kikimora, produced at Staffordshire University, May 21, 2013, https://vimeo.com/66619155. (Photo and video used with permission of the creators.)

Mara: Death and Rebirth

Mara has been associated with a seasonal rite of death in winter and rebirth in spring called Mara and Lisanka, in which people seek blessings of fertility and protection from disease and hail. She was fashioned as a doll dressed in a local costume, or even dressed as a scarecrow. Her body is twisted, showing its connection with the old Slavic lih (bad spirit), as well as liho (trouble), represented in tales as a cross-eyed woman who brought misfortune and death.

The ritual called Mara and Lisanka is performed on a sunny Wednesday after Easter. As part of the ceremony, people take one yellow and one red slipper from three recent brides and wear the footwear around their head like a bridal wreath. They sing as they circle the village. At the end, they bathe Mara, the doll, in the river and wash their own faces. Boys grab the doll, which symbolizes a lazy girl, and toss it into the river while they sing:

"Maro and Lisanko,

Will you come soon?"

"Soon next year

On the empty Sunday" (Ivanichka, 209).

Kikimora in Song

To get a taste of the creepiness of the Kikimora, listen to this modern music by KCHÖRTOO (links below). You’ll feel yourself walking through the forest at night. The breeze chills you. Or is it the sound of a Kikimora spinning, spinning, spinning?

In his own words, Stephan Friedman talks about this recording.

This album is dedicated to the lore of the Ural Mountains where I was born and raised. Mythology and folk tales play a large part in the life of this region. Ever since childhood I’ve been fascinated and greatly influenced by various tales and oddities. What drew me to Kikimora as a subject for the song is the mystery and complexity of the character of this creature. It is sorrowful, malevolent and fleeting. I wanted the song to sound both scary and melancholy. I used kantele, a traditional Finnish string instrument, to create the enchanting, fairytale quality of the melody.

Имра имра-и

Имра имра-у

Семеро ребят, семеро козлят

Выжидают ночь

Семеро волчат по углам скучат

Да подруга-дочь

Кто-то стелется, селится под окном

Вьется, ужится, кружится веретеном

Имра имра-и

Имра имра-у

Волк луну сожрал, черт в углу насрал

Свиньи – вороны

Козья шерсть кругом, бес под потолком

Стоны – стороны

Кто-то стелется, селится под окном

Вьется, вертится, сердится веретеном

В проливной глуши хоть колом теши

Не накрестишься

Не видать души, все вокруг шиши

Челобесища

Translation:

Imra Imra-ee

Imra Imra-oo

Seven little kids, seven little goats

Waiting out the night

Seven little wolfs griping at the corners

And a homegirl-daughter

Someone is creeping, settling under the window

Winding, snaking, spinning like a spindle

Imra Imra-ee

Imra Imra-oo

The wolf devoured the moon, the devil shat in the corner

Pigs – ravens

Goat wool all around, demon under the ceiling 

Moans – sides

Someone is creeping, settling under the window

Winding, fidgeting, sulking like a spindle

In the teeming backwoods even if you’re pigheaded

Crossing yourself won’t help

Can't see a soul, fiends are all around

Human-demon-ity

Used with permission of the copyright owner. Music and lyrics by Stephan Samokhin.

© 2018 Valkoinen Pöllö Studios / ℗ 2010 - 2018 Valkoinen Pöllö Studios / All rights reserved.

Available at: Bandcamp: https://kchortoo.bandcamp.com/track/kikimora

Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/kchortoo/kikimora

YouTube: https://youtu.be/nH0wypOoh5Q

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/album/id1434843510

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/album/5v4bpxngJfcWAPjFG43qdb

Deezer: https://www.deezer.com/us/album/72029182

Stories

Kikimora is a popular subject in literature. The following are a couple works—one old and one new—where you can discover her.

Kikimora ballet by Léonide Massine, first produced in 1916.

An excerpt from the novel Kikimora by Emma Woodcock, published in 2015.

Kikimora in Ballet

The opening scenes of a Russian ballet by Léonide Massine (1896 – 1979) are about the Kikimora and her cat. Born in Moscow as Leonid Fyodorovich Myasin, the composer grew up in a musical family and later became a choreographer and ballet dancer.

His first ballet was Soleil de Nuit (Midnight Sun) in 1915. Kikimora, his second, was first presented in 1916. The original production contained only the story of Kikimora. Commentary about this ballet says, Massine’s love for the humorous and the grotesque is so well-known that there is no surprise in finding the second of his ballets devoted to the theme of children’s tales (Beaumont, 5). After its success, he added stories to the ballet (not included here): the Swan Princess, a dragon fight and funeral, and Baba Yaga. In 1919, Massine added two comedic interludes as well.

I have combined two published versions of his ballet: one is a retelling by Cyril W. Beaumont in Children’s Tales (6 – 8), and the other comes from Edith Sitwell’s Children’s Tales from the Russian Ballet, Retold (29 – 39). The following rendition lacks the stage directions of the original text, and I present it in more of a story-like format, with my own perceptions of the story.

Léonide Massine

Kikimora sits bolt upright in her wooden cradle that’s decorated with gigantic flowers. Sunlight streams through the tattered curtains fluttering on the solitary attic window. Its deep-red frame is no match for the sun’s glaring red and white rays, which dance around the three wooden beams that support the roof. Spots of light tickle the bright-orange walls before they find a green-enameled stove, a low table, and two square stools. A white cat, with an orange handkerchief tied around its neck, lies curled on a stool, dozing from its previous night’s activities. Dust motes glitter across the emptiness of the rest of the vast attic where the spirit resides.

Her cradle rocks, creaking like the spinning wheels she loves so much. Crick. Crick. Crick. Back and forth. Back and forth.

She runs her fingers through the thorny blue wilderness of her hair.

What has awoken her so early? Nighttime is when the half-witch, half-fairy is usually up and about.

She stops her cradle and cocks her head to the side. Faint at first, the sound rises toward her abode.

Him again! The street vendor has come to manipulate her life with his strings and wooden toys. She knows his routine by heart.

Drums and tambourines beat below to the tune of a simple folk song. Kikimora imagines the man dancing in his red boots to his own melody, snapping his whip through the air. His quick, sliding steps move across the cobblestones. The smile encased within his red-bearded face will widen as crowds gather. It always does, she muses. He’ll tug on his white-and-crimson costume, delaying, delaying, waiting for his audience to quiet.

She counts to ten. Now. Silence reaches her ears.

Her body jerks as the street vendor holds at arm’s length the wooden puppet that represents her—the embodiment of wickedness as he calls her. He has disfigured the puppet’s cheeks with a broad, black stripe, and encircled its eyes with black rings. On the top of its head, he has bunched the dark, tangled hair into a pile that bobs every time he moves its wooden arms and legs. Hideous, she thinks.

In his other hand, she knows he shows the audience the second puppet—her cat, which he calls her protector, the symbol of human malice. The real feline has been her faithful companion and nurse since Kikimora’s childhood.

Soon the play will begin. The street vendor shakes each puppet in turn, and she groans. Curtain time. Kikimora dreams of the day she’ll break free of his command and perform her own misdeeds.

Music from below begins again, and the crowd cheers.

The real cat’s ears perk up, and the feline yawns. It stretches and leaps to the floor to begin its morning bath. Lift one hind leg; wash stomach. Lift other leg; wash stomach some more, smoothing down its fur.

Kikimora snaps her teeth and clenches her fists, the sharp nails on her fingers clawing through the air. Is this her own action or that of the street vendor manipulating her? She shrieks and curses. When will she ever break free?

Her faithful protector bounds to her side, nuzzling the cradle so it rocks again. Purring, it stretches out its paws, gently kneading her belly until she nestles into her cradle, calmer. The music from below becomes a lullaby.

The feline ceases rocking the cradle to resume its bath, wetting its paws and washing behind its ears. Once satisfied with its cleanliness, it curls into a ball and naps at the front of the cradle.

Crick. Crick. Crick. The cradle rocks, but Kikimora grows restless again. The music doesn’t lull her to sleep. Why hasn’t the cat continued to comfort her?

She sits up and uncovers knitting needles from the side of her cradle. Click, clickety-click. She occupies her time for a short spell, knitting invisible threads into the air. It’s not working. She remains restless.

The lullaby from the street grows heavier, more monotonous. Finally, in a fit of temper, Kikimora throws aside her blanket and clambers from the cradle. Her blue skirt hitches upward, revealing natty red stockings. She crumples the bottom of her tattered pink blouse. Her sharp claws tear more holes through the brown, grease-coated patches.

Crick-crick-crick. Crick-crick-crick. Crick-crick-crick. Her wooden bed shakes as if in fear of her fury.

It’s not the bed that needs to worry.

The cat blinks as it stares up at its fuming mistress, who curses the feline while she gnashes her teeth and bites her thumb. In a frenzy of rage, Kikimora stamps her feet on her way to the stove. She shakes her fists at every object in the attic, as if to terrify them. None respond.

She snatches a pair of sticks connected by a straw rope. Too late, the cat has missed the warning signs. The infuriated spirit dashes back and lashes the creature with the weapon. The touch of straw against skin, or in this case fur, forebodes great evil. All will not end well for the unfortunate feline.

Has the street vendor meant for his play to have gone this far? Or has Kikimora broken free of his control?

It takes a moment for fear to overtake the cat’s astonishment. The feline leaps to its feet, dashing from side to side to avoid its mistress’s lashes. Still it tries to soothe her by rubbing against her legs.

She’ll have none of that. Malice and spite fill her. The cat shouldn’t have stopped comforting her earlier. Shouting her curses, she claws at the creature when it’s too close for her sticks to do their damage. The cat dodges her blows, and Kikimora kicks over one of the stools—first with one foot, then with the other. The pain increases her anger, and she stomps the floor like a pouting child.

Mewling, the cat leaps onto the other stool. It paws the air, trying to reach her.

Kikimora ceases kicking her stool and lunges at the cat. It hisses from fright and now waves its paws in defense. A swipe from the maddened spirit’s claws swishes past the feline’s ear, and the cat rockets upward out of reach.

Enraged at the cat’s escape, Kikimora rushes to her cradle. Her pet and protector won’t get away from her again. She fumbles beneath the blankets, searching for a more terrifying weapon. There! Her fingers touch the splintered wood. She tugs out an axe, which slices her bed coverings. Her own eyes glow red in the reflection of the rusty axe head.

The cat has failed her one time too many.

A sinister laugh escapes her as she turns around with slow, determined movements. Where has her protector and friend hidden? She gazes around the room and stops her search at the far corner. The cat crouches, its fur bristled and its ears laid back.

Kikimora dashes toward the creature and grabs it by the throat. No more will it feign comfort, brought on by the street vendor’s play-acting. She pounds the cat’s skull with the axe—once, twice, thrice!

A primordial screech erupts from the feline’s throat as it struggles to escape. But Kikimora doesn’t stop her brutal attack, fueled on by her pent-up frustration.

With one last weak mewl and sad eyes gazing at its mistress, the cat goes limp. Kikimora releases her grip, and the creature thuds to the floor. Its legs stick out straight. In vain, it paws at the floor, trying to stand. It heaves one last breath, then rolls to its side. Dead!

Kikimora dances with glee. She leaps into the air on an invisible broomstick and zooms out of a hole in the roof. Her hair is like a wisp of blue flame as she soars above the man who has tormented her for years. No more will the street vendor rule her life. She can now cast her own evil spells upon the world!

Her evil laughter bubbles from her lips as the man gazes from his puppets to her. His pasted-on grin for his audience fades, and horror fills his eyes. He drops the puppets and dashes up the stairs.

Kikimora stares in the window, anticipating his reaction when he reaches the attic.

The door slams open, and the street vendor stares, horrified, at the cat lying bloodied and broken on the floor. He snaps his whip across the cat’s back. The creature jerks like a monster being born and scrambles to its feet. Its eyes wide, it scampers out of the room.

How can that be? Kikimora wonders. It was dead. It had to be. Or ... is this still somehow all part of the street vendor’s play? Has he altered his routine only to play her a fool?

A Modern Kikimora Tale Influenced by Music

In 1909, Anatoly Lyadov (1855 – 1914) composed a tone poem called Kikimora, Op. 63 (you can listen to it here: https://youtu.be/4mli4z0Fuvg). He was born into a family of eminent Russian musicians. Described as writing compositions with great precision and fine attention to details, he demanded as much effort from the music students he taught as he did from himself.

Anatoly Lyadov

The program notes for his Kikimora composition state:

She grows up with a magician in the mountains. From dawn to sunset the magician’s cat regales Kikimora with fantastic tales of ancient times and faraway places, as Kikimora rocks in a cradle made of crystal. It takes her seven years to reach maturity, by which time her head is no larger than a thimble and her body no wider than a strand of straw. Kikimora spins flax from dusk to dawn, with evil intentions for the world (Beggerow).

The music starts out slow and mysterious, reflecting Kikimora’s magical upbringing. From there, the notes speed up to a climax, with Kikimora performing some malicious deed. It finally quiets as Kikimora slinks away from the household she’s invaded (Beggerow).

The music has been described as follows:

Lyadov ... embodies the tale in orchestral poesy. The craggy wastes, the drowsy accompaniment of Kikimora’s cradle-song are with inexpressibly delicate humour blended with the music of the venomous purring of the sapient Cat: all three, though each complete in itself, are here joined in an Introduction which is a work of genius, and which, for its expressiveness and striking picturesqueness, could hardly be surpassed.

Beginning restrainedly, the Introduction gradually works up into a presto. Kikimora, awakening, rubs her crafty eyes, and surveys the neighbourhood in company with her yellow-orbed companion; the ‘Cat’ motive in varying forms runs through the whole tale. The blended themes are gradually broadened out ... and after a powerful climax a big, descending chromatic passage leads into the real exposition: shrieks and clamour, whistling and hissing—one has to keep one’s ears alert so that no details of the wonders concealed in this music, no feature of the straw-slender witch and none of her evil intentions are lost to the listener. But the most wonderful thing in this fairy-tale picture is its creator: his artistic sense unfailingly keeps the composer in bounds; without it the illusion would be shattered ... Lyadov was incapable of pandering to the instincts of the mob ... In this picture his work attains perfection (Montague-Nathan, 418).

At least one modern story has been inspired by Lyadov’s notes. Emma Woodcock published Kikimora in the latter part of 2015. In her blog, she writes:

As soon as I heard those words it was a story I wanted to read. It conjures so much that is familiar from the kind of stories I loved when I was growing up, from fairy tales and folk tales.

Kikimora grows up with a magician – like so many iconic protagonists. Like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, like The Once and Future King, like many of Diana Wynne Jones’ books: Howl’s Moving Castle, Charmed Life, The Lives of Christopher Chant.

The magician’s cat can speak – like the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland. Like Aslan. And, again, there are many examples in Diana Wynne Jones’ books.

The cat tells endless stories – like Sherazade in 1001 nights.

Kikimora’s head is no larger than a thimble – bringing to mind classic fairy tales, like Thumbelina or Tom Thumb.

And like Rumpelstiltskin, she spins flax.

With just a few words Lyadov has summoned a storm of associations and memories – treasured memories from childhood, of the magical, fantastical stories I loved best, and that transported me to other lands and other lives.

But then right at the end, he gives it a twist: she has evil intentions for the world. So is she the heroine of this story, or is she the villain? (Woodcock)

To find the answer Woodcock came up with, you’ll have to read her book. Here’s an excerpt found on her blog to whet your appetite for more.

Kikimora gathered up her embroidery to finish in the pantry. It was cold in there, but that had never troubled her. She was a creature of the cold, and though she enjoyed the comfort of a crackling fire, her resilience to Korsakov’s bitter winters was remarkable. She had never owned a pair of shoes, nor felt their lack.

She was almost at the door, when the North Wind said, Wait. How old are you now, girl?

Almost seven.

Anatoly’s long fingers fumbled as he filled the glasses, which all clinked and rattled against one another.

Has it been so long? asked the North Wind in some surprise. Surely it is time?

Anatoly swallowed his vodka at a gulp. There is still much I would teach her. Her reading is sorely neglected. She has not yet begun The Art of War—

The North Wind snorted his disdain. She might have completed all the reading even you could wish for years ago if you didn’t have her working as your skivvy all the day long! I heard your banshee wail, he told Kikimora. It wasn’t too bad. What else can you do? Can you sour the milk with an evil thought?

Kikimora nodded.

Can you hide from human eyes? Creep past men silent and unnoticed? Two more nods.

Can you send bad dreams to trouble the sleep of man, woman or child?

She hesitated.

Well?

I have no one on which to practice such a skill.

The North Wind frowned and harrumphed. What of that cat I’ve seen around the place? Surely you could disturb its sleep?

Kikimora’s eyes grew wide at this suggestion, and Anatoly muttered that it was more than any of their lives were worth to interfere with the cat.

Leshy took a bite of cake, and exclaimed at its sweetness. Washing it down with a mouthful of vodka, he added that he’d never tasted finer spirit. Kikimora knew he was trying to cheer her up, and she summoned a smile to show she appreciated it.

Congratulations, the North Wind said sourly. Your monster is a fine cook and house-keeper. How those men will tremble in their boots (Woodcock, reprinted with permission of the author).

You’ve learned about the terrible things Kikimora can do, so men are certain to tremble when Kikimora is set loose on the world.

Domovoi (Домовой)

In an old stove the devil warms.

Domownik. Illustration by Anna Błaszczyk (Evelinea Erato). © Bendideia Publishing.

Domovoi or Domovoy (singular); Domovye or Domoviye (plural)

Other names: domovik (Slovak), domowik (Polish), damavik (Belarusian), domovyk (Ukranian), dědek (Czech), domaći (Serbian[28] & Croatian), domovoj (Slovanian),[29] plus many other variations.

Names of respect: Most often, people don’t call the house spirit Domovoi—when speaking to him or about him. When addressing him directly, they use affectionate and respectful euphemisms for grandfather, such as dedushka, dedko, dedo, or chelovek (fellow). If he’s particularly irritating, they may call him by the derogatory name of barabashka (pounder or knocker).[30] When speaking about him, they refer to him as master, well-wisher, the other half, he, himself, and that one.[31]

Domovoi. Illustration by Nelinda. © Bendideia Publishing.

Etymology

Domovoi comes from the Russian word doma, for house, and the word translates to [he] from the house. The name in other languages means home or owner.

The heavens blacken and a tumultuous clamor resounds from within their depths, shaking the very foundation of the land below. Mankind trembles. All eyes focus upward. What terrible beast roars amidst the realm of the gods?

Fire rips apart the fabric of the sky. Humans cower from the blinding light. One moment. Two. Three. The cacophony of sounds dwindles