It is not for nothing that Granvillard is considered the most beautiful village in the Gruyères Alps. In winter it is buried in snow, in summer - in flowers. Around it are high mountains covered with dense forest. And nearby the Sarina River carries its waters with a cheerful murmur.
In ancient times, the inhabitants of Granvillar built their houses at a fair height, where the tops of the fir trees were hidden in thick clouds, but then they decided that it was much more convenient to build at the foot of the mountain. This is how two villages appeared: the upper one, with ancient half-abandoned huts, and the one that grew later on the lower slopes. The peasants of Granvillar are hospitable and friendly people. They know the legends of their region well and willingly tell them to lovers of strange and... scary stories. Here is one of them.
Old Granvillars has a large area surrounded by four partially collapsed stone walls. No one knows what was in this place before. Maybe a house, or maybe a cattle pen. At one time, the youth of Granvillar often held dances on this site. Every Sunday, after mass, dressed up young men and women, taking with them all sorts of goodies, went upstairs to the old village. There they indulged in wild fun until late at night. The music was playing loudly. Everyone ate, drank, laughed, sang and danced, and some even hugged and kissed away from the watchful eye of their stern parents.
Mister curé saw that his young congregation was only thinking about going to the dance floor, and couldn’t wait for the mass to end. The old priest was very unhappy with this. He bored young men and women with the most boring conversations about Christian duty and endless requests to think less about carnal pleasures and more about the immortal soul. But the young people did not want to fast or pray at all. Dances were held more and more often in the upper Granvillars. The wine flowed like a river. Cheerful couples twirled to the sounds of a waltz. Loud music reached the very heart of the dense forest, where ominous owls slept in anticipation of the night hunt and old spruce trees bristled with their thorny branches.
And so, one Sunday morning, the young men and women of Granvillar did not even listen to the end of the mass. Immediately after the sprinkling they fled from the church. Having filled the bottles with wine and the baskets with delicious food, the youth rushed to the dance floor. After about half an hour, the feast was already going on like a mountain and the smoke stood like a rocker. Unbridled fun reigned, and no one noticed how black clouds gathered over the top of Vanilla Noir. Suddenly there was thunder. The dancers stopped and looked at the sky in surprise. A strong wind blew, and suddenly a horseman appeared from behind the mountains. With great speed he began to approach the village, and then everyone realized with horror that he was not jumping on the ground, but flying straight through the air!
A minute later, the black horse's hooves clattered on the stone floor of the platform. The strange horseman, with his attire and proud posture, looked like a noble nobleman. His doublet and trousers were bright green, and his vest was scarlet. The hat had a long white feather on it. The horseman looked contemptuously at the dumbfounded youth and spurred his horse, which immediately neighed loudly and reared up. Fire flew out from the nostrils and mouth of the devilish animal. His eyes sparkled. The horse rushed at the people. He wanted to trample them with his hooves. A terrible death threatened the young inhabitants of Granvillar! But suddenly the hellish creature recoiled from the dancers falling to the ground. Something scared him, something prevented him from putting his hooves on helpless people. The rider in anger spurred his horse, and again and again he raised his terrible hooves over the dancers screaming at the top of their lungs. To no avail! He couldn't do them any harm. And then the formidable horseman, and it was Satan himself, shouted a curse and, turning his horse, rushed away from Granvillar. Soon he disappeared behind the clouds.
Poor boys and girls! Barely able to stand on their feet, tears smearing their cheeks, they began to descend the mountain. Already in the dark they returned to the village and told their parents about the terrible event. Everyone was amazed at what had happened, and the next day the residents of Gravillar gathered in the Church of God and thanked the Lord for a long time for the happy deliverance of foolish children from inevitable death.
Why couldn't the damn horse trample the young dancers? The thing is that on their clothes there were drops of holy water, which the old priest Granvillar sprinkled on his parishioners during the morning mass. The devilish animal, sensing the holy water, was in great confusion. His hooves, raised above the prostrate bodies, encountered some kind of invisible barrier. So the devil had to go home without a quick slurp.
Do you think the young people of Granvillars then ran away from the Sunday service and went to the old dance floor?
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru