From the Gentleman’s Journal of Cryptozoology, 1923:

Even the most frugal of men may spy a penny on the sidewalk and give it nary a thought, stepping over it on the way to the haberdasher or butcher. It is unfortunate that it is so, for under the proper circumstances the humble copper penny can buy far more than a piece of toffee at the general store.

Ours is a nation of immigrants, and each generation of new Americans brings to our illustrious shores their own rich customs, costumes, foods and folklore. These things bring a richness of shared heritage and national identity not to be found anywhere else in the world, and as delightful as this can be, it is not without its shortcomings. Chief among these is the growing prevalence of mythical creatures in our largest cities. Unintentionally our immigrant neighbors bring their goblins, boggarts and shades with them to their new home, and these creatures, rootless in their new homeland, adapt as best as they can.

Such is the case of the Weehawken Troll. Described as a squat, mottled green being covered with horns and other bodily protrusions, the Weehawken Troll is said to hide in wait under bridges throughout the city that gives it its name. As ladies and gentlemen seek passage across these bridges, the Weehawken Troll is said to reveal himself on the other side and demand in a gravelly Nordic voice:

I seen me things
Strange might be
But pay me you will
Most certainly.

Needless to say, proper citizens of this city were left aghast by this manifestation, but with little choice afforded them, they were obliged to pay the beast in what manner they could.

Numerous items were proffered to the Weehawken Troll, and all of them were declined in turn: expensive jewelry, food items, treasury bills and even – in one unfortunate case – the youngest child of a prominent family. Others attempted to drive the creature off by force of arms, but this only resulted in the aggressors being devoured by the Troll. For the next several years, citizens avoided using bridges whenever possible.

Our Lord and Savior spoke of the wisdom of children, and never have the Truth of His words been more accurate than in the case of young Billy Toehinge, the lad who would eventually persevere over the Weehawken Troll.

Billy, in his haste to return home for dinner after a late ballgame, chose to cross a bridge one summer night. The Weehawken Troll was waiting for him. Billy had little to offer the creature save the single penny in his pocket. In his desperation, he offered the coin to the creature, which took it without hesitation, exclaiming:

Copper coin
Proper pay
From the days of youth
To this very day!

After young Billy returned home he shared the story with his parents. His father, in turn, related the occurrence to an old Swedish grandfather who had recently joined his daughter and her husband in the city. The elderly man recalled from the dimmest recesses of his memory a story his own father told about a troll who troubled in a similar manner the people of his village in the Old Country, pestering them for the small copper coins that were then the common currency. Apparently the troll had not abandoned his lust for the coin, and the pennies of his new country were close enough to be satisfactory.

From here the story spread to all quarters of the city, and men and women began to toss a penny over the side of the bridge as tribute for the troll every time they passed. The tradition carries on even today, although the troll himself has not been seen for many, many years.

The night octopus is a small purple cephalopod principally distinguished from its mundane kin by its small air bladder, located on the creature’s dorsal region. This singular gift of Mother Nature allows the night octopuses to leave their briny home at low tide and wander among the village people of Baro-Kar, en masse.

The creatures only take to the beach on nights when the moon is full and the tide is at its lowest point. After millennia spent living on the beaches of Baro-Kar, the men and women of the tribe have learned to not only tolerate the night octopuses’ monthly visitations, but to celebrate it as well.

Ancient Tradition holds that the beloved dead of the tribe return monthly to visit their family members in the form of the small octopuses, and while the now-Christianized men and women of the tribe no longer believe this to be true, the monthly arrival of the octopuses provide a convenient and welcome break from the drudgery of village life and an opportunity for celebration.

When the day arrives for the visit of the night octopuses, the women of the tribe light small palm oil candles and place them in conch shells at regular intervals around the beach, and the men leave small plates of shredded fish and coconut outside the huts and wait for nightfall. After the moon rises, families gather on their porches and wait for the arrival of their esteemed octopus guests, marking the passage of hours with traditional songs and the telling of tales. It is considered a traditional game to observe the passage of this octopus or that and light-heartedly ascribe to it the appearance of this or that dearly (or not so dearly) departed relative, with much laughter ensuing.

When the morning finally comes the people of Baro-Kar resume their lives of toil, no doubt looking toward the next visitation of the night octopus and its accompanying levity. While Western readers may be tempted to regard the festivities of the night octopus in Baro-Kar with an air of condescension, I hasten to ask if this people’s tradition is all that much different from the yearly visitation of Saint Nicholas observed in so many European homes. Such comparison and recognition of the commonalities shared by all branches of the human family is necessary if only for the achievement of the peaceful sort of world that will support further inquiries into cryptozoology and all other True Sciences.