Join us at the campfire for tales from around the world, told by storytellers of all backgrounds and creeds. From the heros and heroines of old, let us relearn and rediscover the wisdom of our ancestors. Shhh..the story begins..

For centuries, the Gypsies have always been wanderers on the open road. Many people fear the Romany race, believing that they are able to harness the magic of mirrors and metal. They are called the descendants of Cain and it is said that they are barred for all eternity from the Brotherhood of Christianity, doomed to roam the earth in search of a home.

Gypsies are credited with being able to understand the speech of horses and they have been seen--or so it is said--burying their shadows in ground where they have been made unwelcome to haunt the dreams of those who persecuted them. The legends of their secret rituals and mastery of unnatural arts precedes them wherever they go, and the medieval Church damned the Gypsies for having forged the very nails driven into the hands and feet of Christ when he was placed on the cross. The Gypsies have scoffed at this. If a Gypsy had made the nails, they have declared, then the workmanship would have been so fine that Christ would not have even felt them pass through his flesh.

Gypsies have always promoted the power of iron to heal the sick and ward off evil, the emblem of which is the horseshoe which hangs above the doorway of each Romany caravan and prevents misfortune from sneaking in. The story of how the horseshoe came to be endowed with such magical powers is one that is known to every Gypsy child:

Many hundreds of years ago, there lived in the mountains four evil demons, who went by the common names of "Bad Luck," "Bad Health," "Misery" and "Death." Their greatest pleasure was to ambush innocent travelers and rip them to pieces. One night, a young Gypsy chieftain was on his way home from an enjoyable evening spent drinking, dancing and singing. Deciding to make a detour into the foothills to clear his head and breathe the cool and crisp night air, he had not gone far before he was accosted by the demon, "Bad Luck."

The demon's three brothers had left "Bad Luck" on watch, to keep an eye open for victims while they rested. "Bad Luck" grinned evilly as he heard the young Gypsy approach and then crashed through the undergrowth, lunging up the trail in pursuit of the chieftain, whose horse reared in panic and bolted back down the hill. "Bad Luck," not about to let his prey escape him, followed the horse down the rock-strewn path. Its hooves thundered as it galloped at breakneck speed. Stumbling, the terrified animal almost fell but, at the last minute, righted itself and, thrashing wildly on the stones, lost one of its iron shoes which flew off and smashed into the face of "Bad Luck," catching him right between the eyes. With a heavy thud which shook the mountain to its foundations, "Bad Luck" collapsed to the ground. The demon was dead.

The young Gypsy calmed his horse and spurred it towards the corpse of the fallen demon. The prongs of the horseshoe were deeply embedded in the massive and grotesque forehead. The chieftain, astounded--but very grateful--that the chance occurrence had saved his life, wrenched the shoe from the demon's skull and took it home to his camp. There, before the embers of a cooking fire, he told the tribe of his narrow escape.

Shortly before dawn, the three other demons awoke and roared hungrily, wondering why "Bad Luck" had brought them no meat. Calling his name, they searched the hillside and found the disfigured body of their brother along the trail. They snatched birds from their nests and dragged foxes from their dens, torturing them until the poor unfortunate creatures revealed the name of their brother's adversary...and the means of his success.

While it was still dark, the avenging demons burst into the Romany camp, daring the young chieftain to show himself. With a bold gesture, the Gypsy threw open the door to his caravan and stood framed in the entrance. "Bad Health," "Misery" and "Death" snarled at him with bared fangs and made ready to tear him apart, but when they saw that the chieftain had nailed over his doorway the very horseshoe that had killed their brother, they hesitated.

They muttered amongst themselves for a moment then, remembering that the young Gypsy's horse still had three other shoes, slunk away into the night. Since that day, the three demons have followed the tracks of the Romany caravans, waiting to take their revenge and always watching to spy out a doorway unguarded by the device, crafted by the skilful Gypsies, that had put an end to "Bad Luck."