It’s easy to be scared of large animals with sharp teeth or scary humanoid creatures with exaggerated features. It’s also easy to be scared of clowns.

But what about when everyday household objects go bad? Say, an umbrella, or shoes? Maybe a broom? What about a magical flying mortar & pestle, or a house with chicken legs?

Enter Baba Yaga, a your classic witch, except that she flies around in a mortar and lives in a house with chicken legs. I suppose that makes her more scary? Or is it a ruse to confuse children long enough for her to catch them?

It doesn’t really matter; more importantly, a painting of Baba Yaga’s house became the inspiration for part of Modest Mussorgsky‘s Pictures at an Exhibition:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tO5p-gNyVlo

There’s also an awesome metal version:

I’ve said it before, kids. Don’t Do Drugs. But if you do … write music while you’re tripping.

Legend says that Hector Berlioz was under the influence of opium during the composition of Symphonie Fantastique. His own program notes for the symphony indicate that the last two movements are nothing less than a wild hallucination. The fifth movement is by far the best; in Berlioz’s own words:

[The Love-Lorn Hero] sees himself at a witches’ sabbath, in the midst of a hideous gathering of shades, sorcerers and monsters of every kind who have come together for his funeral. Strange sounds, groans, outbursts of laughter; distant shouts which seem to be answered by more shouts. The beloved melody [1:28, the idée fixe – a tune which represent the hero, which is heard in every movement of the symphony] appears once more, but has now lost its noble and shy character; it is now no more than a vulgar dance tune, trivial and grotesque: it is [his love] who is coming to the sabbath … Roar of delight at her arrival … She joins the diabolical orgy … The funeral knell tolls [3:00], burlesque parody of the Dies irae [at 3:27, a Gregorian chant sung at funeral masses], the dance of the witches.

Happy Sunday!

César Franck wasn’t born on Halloween, but his most dramatically frightening programmatic work was. Completed on October 31, 1882, The Accursed Hunter is a tone poem which tells the story of a nobleman who breaks one of the ten commandments by going hunting on the Sabbath.

The piece begins with obvious hunting calls, and church bells attempting to call the hero to Sunday worship. Ignoring the bells, he enters the deep woods where a demonic voice curses him: he is condemned to be pursued by demons for all eternity!

Something to think about, next time you feel like skipping church.