Tiddy Moon, dedicated to Ben and Edward who support us on Patreon.

Hello, this is Jana, and I'm dropping by with another story from the eastern part of England.

If you've heard our story, The Buried Moon, you will know the Fens were once full of bogs and evil spirits.

In the 17th century, King Charles I employed Dutch engineers to drain the fens.

He used experts from Holland because they had a long experience of draining the lowlands of their own country.

The magical spirits of the fens did not want their bogs and water holes to be dried out.

This story is about how the supernatural creatures made their anger felt.

The chief spirit of the bogs was Tidimun, who was no bigger than a child of three.

He lived in the water holes deep down in the still green water, and he only came out in the

evening when the mist rose.

Then he'd come creeping out into the dark corners, limping as he went.

He was like a wee, dear old grandfather with long white hair and a long white beard,

all clumped together and tangled. It was hard to see him in his grey gown through the

thick grey mist. He came with the sound of running water and a sigh of wind, laughing like a lapwing

bird. He wasn't wicked and stroppy like the water elves, and he wasn't white and creepy like the dead hands.

But it sent a shiver down your spine.

When sitting at home in winter,

you heard his screeching laugh.

Out by the door,

folks huddled together and whispered with a glance over their shoulders.

Harken to the Diddy Moon.

There was a rhyme about him.

...