Secrets of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World

Author Bettany Hughes shares surprising truths about the Great Pyramid, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon and other Wonders of the Ancient World. 

Quick — name the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

Struggling? You’re not alone.

Most people can’t list them all. Some guess the Colosseum or Stonehenge. Others don’t realize that only one still stands. 

“These weren’t just impressive buildings and sculptures.

They were bold declarations of power — a Hellenistic highlight reel that reflected the ambition and reach of Alexander the Great’s world.”

In her 2024 book The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World: An Extraordinary Journey Through History’s Greatest Treasures, historian Bettany Hughes peels back the mythology and reveals the politics, poetry and propaganda behind these wonders. These weren’t just impressive buildings and sculptures. They were bold declarations of power — a kind of Hellenistic highlight reel that reflected the ambition and reach of Alexander the Great’s world.

MORE: 3 Times Alexander the Great Wasn’t So Great

The oldest surviving version of the list was scribbled on a scrap of papyrus used to wrap a mummified body in Ancient Egypt. 

Most could be visited on a single, well-planned trip through the eastern Mediterranean. This was the ancient world’s first viral travel list — and its message was clear: Look upon our works, ye mortals, and marvel.

1. The Great Pyramid of Giza: A Resurrection Machine by the Nile

If you visit the Great Pyramid today, you’ll likely see a heat-blasted monument rising from a stretch of ochre desert. But what if we’ve been picturing it all wrong? Hughes urges us to reimagine the Giza Plateau not as barren but as bursting with life: “Where we see desertion, imagine an abundance of clover and thousands of homes; where there are sands, waterways; where there is emptiness, tens of thousands of workers in loincloths and linen kilts. Where there are now neutral horizons, there was once hectic color; where piles of collapsed stone, dwarf-pyramids and sloping, mudbrick mastaba tombs. Where desert, gravid green.”

Built around 2550 BCE and once faced in polished white limestone, the Great Pyramid would have shimmered with a blinding brilliance. 

It wasn’t just a royal tomb; it was a “resurrection machine,” a literal launchpad to the afterlife. This machine served a higher cosmic purpose: to guarantee Egypt’s prosperity by ensuring the pharaoh’s rebirth. The fate of the world literally depended upon Khufu’s afterlife. 

And the engineering behind it still leaves modern minds gasping. Standing 480 feet tall and weighing in at roughly 6.5 million tons, the pyramid used about 2.3 million blocks of limestone, each hauled into place over a quarter of a century. Its interior space alone could swallow London’s St. Paul’s Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, and the cathedrals of Milan and Florence — with room to spare.

Despite theories ranging from alien intervention to lost technologies, Hughes focuses on the human marvel of it all: tens of thousands of anonymous laborers working 10-hour days, 52 weeks a year, over decades — moving one block every two to three minutes. Current estimates suggest around 20,000 workers were active on the plateau at any given time, likely using a combination of sledges, rollers, ramps and perhaps even early hydraulic lifts. Still, the exact method remains elusive: “The engineering and construction of the Pyramid — the way these blocks were shaped, lifted and set in place — has confounded researchers for centuries, triggering miles’ worth of parchment and paper, and now volumes of iCloud storage,” Hughes writes. “It is a conundrum that obsesses the modern world — taxing the minds of engineers, architects, archaeologists, surveyors, even mediums.”

It’s also easy to forget that this was a riverfront wonder. In Khufu’s day, the Nile flowed much closer to Giza, hugging the Pyramid complex for most of the year, and sometimes lapping its very foundations. What we now see as isolation was once a place of movement and connection — a grand riverside attraction.

Capped with a golden or electrum pyramidion that caught the sun’s rays and hurled them back to the heavens, the Great Pyramid symbolized the original mound of creation — the divine moment when the world emerged from chaos. It was cosmic.

2. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon: Myth, Monument or Mistranslation?

Of all the Seven Wonders, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon remain the most mysterious — and possibly the most fictional. Unlike the Great Pyramid, whose stones still scrape the sky, the Gardens leave us with no ruins, no universally agreed-upon site, and plenty of questions. Did they even exist?

If they did, the Hanging Gardens would have bloomed sometime in the 6th century BCE, during the reign of Nebuchadnezzar II — the great Babylonian king who ruled from 605 to 562 BCE and who is most often credited with their creation. That attribution, though, rests more on later tradition than contemporary evidence.

MORE: Nebuchadnezzar, King Josiah and the Formation of Jewish Law

And the evidence is where things get messy. Hughes lays out the problem clearly: Neither Herodotus nor Xenophon — Greek chroniclers who actually visited Babylon — mention the Gardens. Not once. That silence is thunderous. Even the East India House Inscription, a beautifully preserved 20-inch-wide slab chronicling the many accomplishments of Nebuchadnezzar II, makes no mention of them — no garden at all, hanging or otherwise.

So what gives?

Hughes suggests we may be looking for something too specific. What if the gardens weren’t separate from Babylon’s famed walls but were part of them — verdant terraces that flowed from the fortifications and palatial structures themselves? In many ancient lists, it’s actually Babylon’s walls that earn the “Wonder” designation, not the elusive Gardens. That ambiguity raises the possibility that what we now call the “Hanging Gardens” may have been a poetic misunderstanding — a mistranslated marvel.

And yet, the idea of the Gardens persists — not just because they would’ve been beautiful, but because they captured something deeper and darker about humanity’s emerging relationship with nature. These were not serene rooftop retreats. They were feats of engineering and control, power disguised as paradise.

“Whatever they were, however wondrous, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon would not have been idylls,” Hughes writes. “They would have been exquisite, exacting expressions of potency, expressions of belief, manifestations of ingenuity and the start of a dangerously dominating relationship with the natural world.”

Whether built in Babylon or borrowed from memories of Nineveh, the Hanging Gardens endure because they symbolize an idea: that nature could be bent into spectacle. And that idea, as Hughes suggests, has echoed through every empire since.

MORE: Controversial Theories About the Tower of Babel

3. The Temple of Artemis at Ephesus: Sanctuary of Stone and Wildness

Of all the ancient world’s architectural achievements, none left the poet Antipater of Sidon more breathless than the Temple of Artemis. Around 140 BCE, he wrote, “I have set eyes on the very wall of lofty Babylon, supporting a chariot road, and the [statue of] Zeus by the Alpheios [in Olympia], and the Hanging Gardens, and the Colossus of Helios, and the huge labor of the steep pyramids, and the vast tomb of Mausolos; but when I saw the temple of Artemis, reaching up to the clouds, these other marvels dimmed, they lost their brilliance, and I declared, ‘Look, apart from Olympus itself, the sun has never shone on anything that can compare to this!’”

Constructed around 550 BCE and rebuilt in grander fashion after a devastating fire in 356 BCE, the Artemision — as it was called in classical sources — was the first of the Seven Wonders to be accessible to all people, not just royalty. And it was the only one where women, both mythic and mortal, stood at the center of its story.

The original temple was incinerated on a sweltering July night — the very night Alexander the Great was born. In fact, the Greek world couldn’t help but connect the two events: “Tongues wagged: Artemis — goddess of nature and childbirth — it was whispered, was so busy in northern Greece, super-birthing a world-class megalomaniac, she neglected her earthly temple home,” Hughes writes. 

MORE: Alexander the Great: 8 WTF Facts About His Early Life

The arsonist was a man named Herostratus, likely a desperate slave who torched the temple to immortalize his own name — and, ironically, succeeded. The Ephesians tried to erase him completely. Speaking his name was made a capital crime. But history, being what it is, remembered him anyway.

The rebuilt temple was a marvel: 425 feet long, 225 feet wide — nearly twice the size of the Parthenon that would follow it 150 years later. It featured 127 columns, each 60 feet high, and some capped by a skylight above the central cult statue. The structure marked the first true colonnaded Greek temple, laying the architectural blueprint for millennia to come.

Here, Artemis wasn’t the graceful huntress of Louvre sculptures. She was Asiatic Artemis, a wild guardian of beasts, bearing the mystery and fertility of the Earth. She was a goddess of contradictions — pure yet primal, distant yet intimately present.

“Artemis in the mythology of the Greeks was an unusual goddess, a female figure who stood apart from the rutting sexuality that was the norm of ancient life and myth,” Hughes writes. “The story went that on the eve of her wedding, Artemis begged her father Zeus to allow her not to marry. In most cultures at this time, women were controlled, either by having to have sex, or by not being allowed to. Artemis’s agency, and her choice, makes her attractively odd. She was a virgin, whose sphere was consummation.”

Her image, kept hidden behind a curtain in the sanctuary, was likely a wooden plank known as a xoanon — treated as a living being. It was washed in seawater, anointed in fig milk or grape juice, adorned with clothes and gold, and lovingly cared for in a process called kosmeis — the root of our word cosmetics.

The cult of Artemis was largely female-led. Young women, or parthenoi, took part in the rites. But the high priests — the megabyzoi — were eunuchs, men who had castrated themselves in service to the goddess. Their female counterparts, the melissae, were the “honey women,” underscoring the deep associations between Artemis, fertility and nature’s sweetness.

Ephesus itself had become one of the largest and busiest cities in the ancient world, its port capable of hosting over 800 ships. That accessibility helped the temple’s fame spread far and wide. It was a religious sanctuary, a political hub and — crucially — a bank. Like many temples of the time, it safeguarded vast stores of wealth and knowledge. To violate the temple was to risk divine wrath.

The mythic presence of Amazons — female warriors who were said to have founded the site — was inescapable. Their likenesses adorned the temple’s façade, doorframes and rooftop sculptures. Bronze statues of Amazons stood with short chitons, bare breasts, crescent shields and battleaxes — some even depicted with wounds.

“The Temple of Artemis is a Wonder with diverse genetic makeup and influences from both East and West within its deity, its design and its dogma,” according to Hughes. “It is a work of mankind, trying to understand the power of the natural world and the power of women.”

And Artemis herself? Her statue was encrusted with bees, lions, griffins, cows, horses and sphinxes — a tapestry of creatures and symbols. Her front was thick with mysterious swellings: ostrich eggs? Pollen sacks? Breasts? Testicles? Bags of gold? The goddess resisted definition. She contained multitudes.

Topping her cylindrical polos crown was an image of the temple itself. A shrine of power, mystery and the wild feminine, the Artemision stood as a defiant celebration of life’s most primal forces.

4. The Statue of Zeus at Olympia: God Made Monument

Epictetus, a Stoic philosopher, captured just how beloved the Statue of Zeus had become by the 1st century CE: “The wish to witness the ancient masterpiece of Phidias was so intense, that to die without having seen it was considered a huge misfortune,” he wrote in Discourses. 

The statue of Zeus at Olympia glowed with godly gravitas inside the sanctuary’s darkened temple. A creation of the sculptor Phidias, it was a divine father made colossal: Zeus, King of the Gods, father of Artemis and Apollo, products of the rape of the titaness Leto. The statue wasn’t meant to comfort. It was meant to awe.

“Of course, in a place where men were attempting to become godlike, the ultimate god took the form of the ultimate man,” Hughes writes. 

Built between 438 and 430 BCE, the statue was made of the most extravagant materials available: gleaming hippopotamus ivory for skin, gold for hair and beard, ebony, bone, polished stone and glass. 

“Measuring the size of a three-story home (41 feet, on his pedestal rising over 44 feet tall), and yet seated, crouching, with his head skimming the ceiling, like Alice in Wonderland after taking her Drink Me spiked potion, the godhead must have seemed extraordinarily intimidating,” Hughes adds. “It was said that if he stood up, this Zeus would ‘unroof’ his temple-home.”

The throne featured six statues of Nike, the goddess of victory, marching up the legs. The arms of the seat were sobering sphinxes. The struts featured Herakles slaughtering Amazons to seize their queen’s girdle. The side panels showed Artemis and Apollo massacring Niobe’s children for her pride. And at Zeus’s feet? A stool supported by snarling lions — another Amazonian battlefield carved beneath.

“The message was clear: Olympia, and its Holy of Holies were, in every sense, somewhere that weakness was abhorred, for Zeus’s domain, there were only winners and losers,” Hughes explains. 

In Zeus’ right hand stood a 6-and-a-half-foot statue of Nike, also made of ivory and gold. In his left: a scepter topped by a gleaming eagle. His hair curled in heavy golden locks onto his shoulders, while his ivory skin was oiled daily to prevent cracking in the damp climate. That oil pooled in a limestone basin at his feet — creating a dark twin of the god.

The temple that housed Zeus at Olympia was a masterpiece of Doric architecture, designed by Libon of Elis and completed in 456 BCE with the spoils of war. Zeus’ likeness, modeled after Homer’s verses in The Iliad, captured the very image of cosmic authority. It was said Zeus could start an earthquake just by furrowing his brow. 

A wooden framework supported the ivory plating, carefully soaked in vinegar and sculpted into seamless sheets. Recent research by Kenneth Lapatin confirms the intricacy of this process — and the ingenuity of the ancients who achieved it.

When Roman Emperor Caligula ordered the statue’s decapitation in 41 CE so he could replace the god’s head with his own, Zeus reportedly laughed. The scaffolding collapsed, and days later, Caligula was assassinated — after having dreamed of the deity he sought to deface.

After standing for nearly 1,000 years, the statue was eventually moved to Constantinople, where it burned in a city-wide fire around 476 CE. Olympia’s pride, a masterpiece honored for generations, was reduced to ash.

And yet, Zeus lived on — not just in memory, but in iconography. The Byzantine depiction of Christ Pantokrator, “Ruler of All,” seated on a throne with glowering brow and commanding presence, bore a striking resemblance to Phidias’s Zeus. The divine father had been reborn.

5. The Mausoleum of Halikarnassos: A Monument to Power, Grief and Glittering Excess

It was a tomb so grand it gave its name to every monumental tomb that followed. But the Mausoleum of Halikarnassos — final resting place of Mausolos, satrap-king of Karia — wasn’t just massive. It was mesmerizing. A collision of Greek elegance, Persian grandeur and Anatolian symbolism, built between 361 and 351 BCE on the sun-soaked coast of modern-day Turkey.

This Wonder fused the influences of East and West: Ionian and Doric architectural styles mingled with the dramatic scale and symmetry of Persian rock-cut tombs. Hughes notes that Karia, the region where Halikarnassos sat, was a culture of blendings — borrowing, reimagining and innovating in equal measure. And the Mausoleum was its masterpiece.

“This giant tomb came to be thought of as wonderful because it was trumpeted as embodying a faithful woman’s selfless devotion to her husband-brother, a sign that the brilliance of some men is to devastate women by dying,” she writes. 

Indeed, much of its fame came from the story of Artemisia II, Mausolos’ sister and wife, who reportedly grieved so hard she mixed his ashes into her wine. But beneath the romance lay a structure of staggering ambition: a 145-foot-tall marble confection built atop a limestone terrace stretching over 785 feet — about half the height of Big Ben, and nearly the length of two football fields.

The base consisted of a rectangular podium roughly 100 by 125 feet wide. Above that, 36 columns ringed the structure, echoing the layout of the Temple of Artemis. On top of the colonnade rose a stepped pyramid of 24 tiers, leading to a grand pedestal. And at the very top? A chariot drawn by four thrashing horses, almost certainly carrying statues of Mausolos and Artemisia themselves — a couple who have been put quite literally on a pedestal.

Designed by architect-sculptor Pytheos and possibly other elite artists of the day — Scopas, Bryaxis, Leochares and Timotheus among them — the Mausoleum was both a sculpture gallery and a piece of architectural theater. Its blocks were polished to a glass-like sheen. Carvings depicted Mausolos hunting, receiving ambassadors, honoring the gods and leading battles — scenes real and imagined. Life, as Mausolos wanted it remembered, in full pageantry. 

We tend to think of ancient structures as white, but many were actually a riot of color — and the Mausoleum certainly was. “Funerary monuments in particular favored color — there was a sense that the polychrome experience brought the dead back to some kind of life,” Hughes informs us. “Mausolos’ tomb would have been a firework in the sky.”

And what fireworks: white marble, then bluish limestone adorned with over 120 human and animal figures — all progressing toward a seated Mausolos before a great doorway. Was this his entrance to the afterlife? Above this level, imported white marble from Athens depicted brutal battle scenes, including — once again — Amazons, a recurring motif in Wonder architecture.

A ring of lions likely prowled the pyramid’s base. The decorative program celebrated domination, but also wildness and ritual. Priestesses in clinging, diaphanous dresses, their bodies visible beneath the folds, hint at ecstatic Bacchic rites. 

Skulls unearthed at the site suggest mass animal sacrifice during the burial — a slaughter of sheep, oxen, lambs, birds. Where now there are thistles and butterflies, there were once streams of blood.

Threads of gold found among the ruins may have once wrapped the king’s cremated remains. 

A spring near the site was famed in antiquity for its uncanny power to make men infertile or effeminate. That same spring inspired Ovid’s tale of the creation of Hermaphrodite: the son of Hermes and Aphrodite, lured into its waters by a nymph, merging into one being of two sexes.

The Mausoleum was a place where myth, sex, sacrifice, politics and grief all coalesced. A wonder of death, yes — but pulsing with the messy, lavish power of life.

6. The Colossus of Rhodes: Bronze Giant, Fallen God

The Colossus of Rhodes is perhaps the most misunderstood Wonder. Popular imagination has long insisted it stood legs astride the harbor entrance, torch in hand, as ships passed beneath. But that towering figure, feet apart across a 390-foot waterway, is pure fantasy — a medieval myth that held the world’s imagination hostage for 800 years. (It even inspired the Titan of Braavos in George R.R. Martin’s Game of Thrones.)

In reality, the Colossus never straddled the harbor. It likely stood higher up, on the city’s acropolis, towering above the bustling port of Rhodes. This was Helios — the pre-Olympian sun god — cast in bronze and iron, gleaming in the Aegean light.

Standing an estimated 108 feet tall, the statue was a staggering feat of ancient engineering. Built in the early 3rd century BCE and completed around 280 BCE, it had a skeleton of iron and a polished bronze skin. Just one of its digits — a single toe, say — was said to be larger than most full-sized statues.

Unlike Zeus’ patriarchal presence, Helios pulsed with youthful ambition. “Whereas the Zeus at Olympia thundered, his luxurious beard the signifier of a mature man in Greek culture, Rhodes’ Wonder, the un-bearded, tousled, soft-lipped Helios, had the dangerous energy of a young, unpredictable man poised to do great things,” Hughes writes. 

And given the era, it’s hard not to see the influence and inspiration of Alexander the Great in the statue’s features and commanding pose. Rhodes had resisted a siege by one of Alexander’s successors — and the Colossus was both a victory monument and a symbol of sun-blessed resilience.

Kolossos is a Greek word — possibly of Asiatic origin — that originally meant simply “statue.” But this statue rewrote the definition. It was never just a likeness. It was legend in metal, a city’s pride forged into form.

“This was a wonder that became legendary within weeks of its completion,” Hughes says. 

Created by the sculptor Chares of Lindos — and possibly influenced by the legendary Telchines, mythical inventors of metalwork — the statue took 12 years to complete. It was cast in sections, working from the feet upward. Each foot stood on a marble plinth around 60 feet wide and 10 to 15 feet thick.

And then it fell.

Around 227 BCE — just 60 or so years after it was completed — a devastating earthquake struck Rhodes. The city walls crumbled, the coastline dropped by 3 feet, and the Colossus came crashing down. It broke at the knees and was never re-erected. 

The fragments, enormous and awe-inspiring, lay scattered for centuries — longer than the statue ever stood. According to later sources, the tumbled Helios remained visible until the 7th century CE, when its remains were finally melted down for scrap. So much for immortality.

And that legend has never quite gone cold.

7. The Lighthouse of Alexandria: Fire, Mirrors and the Edge of the World

Unlike the short-lived Colossus of Rhodes, the Lighthouse of Alexandria stood tall for over 1,500 years — a marvel of geometry, ingenuity and sheer ambition. Built beginning around 297 BCE and completed over the course of 15 years, this towering wonder rose more than 400 feet above the bustling twin harbors of Alexandria, Egypt, making it the second tallest structure in the ancient world after the Great Pyramid.

It was astonishing. A stacked sequence of geometric forms — square, octagonal, circular — constructed from marble and local limestone, sheathed in red granite shipped down the Nile from the scorched quarries of Aswan. Some blocks stretched 36 feet long and weighed 75 tons. The tower was crowned with a 50-foot statue, almost certainly of Zeus Soter (Zeus the Savior), watching over the seas like a divine lighthousekeeper.

Its beacon could be seen for over 37 miles — a flaming furnace at night, and during the day, sunlight reflected off massive copper mirrors. It was both a feat of engineering and a performance of cosmic authority. Ships approaching Alexandria’s treacherous coast — battered by crosswinds, stalked by hidden rocks — were guided by this shimmering sentinel, the Pharos.

It was built of red granite, which is usually a dull pink, but could turn an iridescent purple  in desert light. “The ancients must have believed red granite brought with it some kind of sorcerer’s power,” Hughes muses. 

The tower’s structure was just as beguiling: a 1,115-by-1,115-foot base with fortified brick walls and turrets; an interior ramp and hoist system to ferry fuel and supplies; and an eight-sided middle tier symbolizing the compass winds. Above that, a cylindrical chamber topped with the beacon — perhaps powered by naphtha and papyrus, possibly attended by pack animals climbing in pairs.

And the Pharos wasn’t just a lighthouse. It was also a proto-telecom tower, using flashing heliography — ancient Morse code — and possibly even mechanical sound effects. Sculpted Tritons (half-man, half-fish) stood around the structure, possibly blowing horns that served as early sirens, ancient animatronics that altered the city in times of danger.

The lighthouse was initially funded by Ptolemy I — one of Alexander the Great’s most successful generals — and completed under his son, Ptolemy II. It cost an estimated 800 silver talents — over $19 m

illion in today’s money. Built on the island of Pharos, which would lend its name to the structure and eventually become the word for “lighthouse” in multiple languages, the monument embodied Ptolemaic power and vision. It was a glowing stake in the sand, declaring Alexandria the gateway between Africa, Asia and the Mediterranean world.

And for centuries, it worked.

Until 1303 CE, when the Earth shook. An earthquake finally toppled the Pharos, reducing it to ruins and ending one of the longest-standing Wonders of the Ancient World.

MORE: The Major Egyptian Gods and Goddesses

Why the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World Still Matter

All but one of the original Seven Wonders may be long gone — toppled by earthquakes, scavenged for scrap, or buried beneath centuries of sand and myth. But as Hughes makes clear, their true legacy is that they weren’t simply monuments to kings or gods. They were monuments to us — to human ambition, ingenuity, imagination and the drive to build something bigger than ourselves.

The list was specific, political, proudly Hellenistic — showcasing a curated world seen through Greek eyes in the wake of Alexander the Great. And yet, the idea of a Wonder has endured far beyond its original moment.

“Wonders serve a rich triple purpose,” Hughes writes. “They were constructed partly to feed our need for wondrous tales — to experience and talk about the biggest, the best, the tallest, the most strange, the most bold. They encourage a saturation in the now, by submitting to a present, pure sensation of wonder. They remind us of our overwhelming desire to collaborate to create beyond the possibilities of the individual.” 

Even today, the concept of a “wonder” still fuels our storytelling, our bucket lists, our skyscrapers and our sci-fi dreams. Because deep down, we’re still looking to be amazed. Still looking to build what seems impossible. Still wondering. –Wally

MORE: What Was Daily Life Like in Ancient Egypt?

Monster Theory: A Q&A With Liz Gloyn

Beware! Medusa, the Sphinx, Cerberus and other monsters reveal the greatest fears of a society. 

Saint Martha Taming the Tarasque, circa 1500

There’s young Wally, curled up on the loveseat in the living room (the one his mother constantly tells him not to sit on), with D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths or the D&D Monster Manual. 

The original Monster Manual used to play Dungeons & Dragons

From an early age, I’ve always loved monsters. Of course I imagined myself as a hero, and that often entailed slaying monsters — usually with magic. But I always found something sympathetic about monsters. To me, they often seemed misunderstood and maligned. Yes, the Minotaur devoured innocent youths. But did he ask to be born a vicious half-breed, trapped in the Labyrinth? 

The monsters of myth continue to have a mass appeal, as evidenced by the vampire craze (think True Blood, Twilight, Interview With the Vampire and The Vampire Diaries). 

As my friend Heather’s little boy, Gulliver, explained to me about the Batman villain Two-Face, “He’s a likable baddie.” He paused, then continued, “He’s a baddie — but he’s a goodie to me.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself. 

---

While scrolling though episodes of The History of Ancient Greece podcast, I was intrigued to see one that had an interview with Liz Gloyn, senior lecturer in Classics at Royal Holloway at the University of London and author of Tracking Classical Monsters in Popular Culture. Upon listening, I couldn’t help but wonder: Why didn’t my college offer courses on monster theory?!

Liz Gloyn, author of Tracking Classical Monsters in Popular Culture

I reached out to Dr. Gloyn, and she graciously agreed to answer some questions about monster theory and her obsession with things that go bump in the night. –Wally

What drew you to monsters in the first place?

To be perfectly honest, I got cross! I had come up with an idea about how the original Clash of the Titans film used monsters and wanted to read what people had said on this subject, but when I went to look at the existing literature, there was nothing there. I could have read all I wanted to on the representation of the famous Greek heroes — Perseus, Theseus, Hercules and the rest — but monsters got treated as if they were scenery. That didn’t make any sense to me, so after I had finished with the piece I wanted to write about Clash of the Titans, I decided it was time for the monsters to get some proper attention of their own. 

The Italian movie poster for the original Clash of the Titans, which came out in 1981

“It’s noticeable how many monsters turn out to be women — or, if they’re male, they’re hypersexualized and hyperviolent, reflecting what happens without the controlling influence of civilization. ”

— Liz Gloyn, University of London

What is monster theory?

Monster theory is the field of academic studies which seeks to explain and understand the function of monsters. It’s based on a very influential piece by a medievalist, Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, who set out seven theses of monster culture, or seven ways in which monsters manifest and make themselves known. 

Few could dream up creepy creatures like Hieronymus Bosch, who painted up horrorscapes in the late 1400s and early 1500s

Monster theory argues that monsters are cultural creations — that is, the particular fears and concerns of a given culture will generate monsters which reflect those fears and concerns. They might be about the “other,” whether you define that in terms of gender, sexuality, ethnicity or something else; they might be about behavioral taboos which need to be observed to keep society safe. And however hard a culture tries to banish a monster, it always comes back. 

How has the perception of monsters changed over the years?

In the ancient world, monsters were very much known by how they looked — you could spot a monster a mile off, although it was also possible to bump into one by accident if you were wandering around the forest not paying attention. 

What we’ve seen since antiquity is a move away from a monstrous outside necessitating a monstrous inside. The break begins with Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, where the Creature is initially an innocent and only becomes monstrous when people treat him badly because of his appearance. 

The frontispiece to an 1831 edition of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

What we’re seeing in the 21st century is a major anxiety over not being able to spot a monster on sight — we fear things like the serial killer, the faceless evil government corporation and the imperceptible virus carrying a gruesome disease. That’s what makes the presence of classical monsters in popular culture even more interesting — they’re still immediately recognizable, and so out of step with more modern kinds of monstrosity, yet still have considerable appeal.

What’s the most surprising finding from your research on monsters?

I think what I’ve been most surprised by is the sheer range of modern interpretations of classical monsters out there. When people know you’re working on this stuff, they pass on every example that they come across, and some of the things that have been shared with me are really amazing: tattoos, bar signs, graffiti, as well as places you might expect to find them like computer games, films and books. 

Dr. Gloyn didn’t know Wally has a Medusa tattoo — though she’d hardly be surprised

I’ve been particularly interested to find how popular Medusa tattoos are. As a monster that can turn people to stone with a glance, she’s not the most obvious thing to have permanently inked on your arm, but she’s clearly been a very important choice for a lot of people. 

Head of Medusa by Peter Paul Rubens and Frans Snyders, circa 1618. Not too many people know that Medusa was a rape victim punished by being transformed into a monster

What monster has been most maligned in your opinion?

Historically, it does have to be Medusa — her origin myth as told to us by Ovid in his poem The Metamorphoses is pretty explicit that the transformation happens after Poseidon has raped her, specifically as a punishment from Athena.

When you hear Medusa’s story, you can’t help but feel some sympathy for her and be pleased that she’s such a badass, even after death

Ovid’s version has been the most read and most influential in post-classical cultures, but until recently Medusa’s rape was translated away as “seduction” or a similar euphemism. Thankfully, as Latin literature has been opened up to a wider audience and stopped being the province of elite white men, we’re starting to see more versions of the story which grapple with Medusa’s identity as a survivor of sexual violence, so that aspect of the myth is beginning to get the coverage it should have.

Centaurs were wild creatures hardly more civilized than the wild beasts attacking them in this mosaic

What does monster theory tell us about how women are perceived? Men? Any other groups?

Monster theory argues that monsters come into existence in order to help society articulate fears and concerns about people not belonging to the dominant group — so, given the social structures of patriarchy, it has quite a lot to say about how society monsters women! Particularly in Greek myth, it’s noticeable just how many monsters turn out to be women — or, if they’re male, like centaurs, they’re hypersexualized and hyperviolent, reflecting what happens without the controlling influence of civilization. 

The Rape of Hippodamia by Peter Paul Rubens, 1638. Drunken centaurs tried to carry off the bride at her wedding feast

What looking at monsters that map on to different groups of people really tells us is what kind of threat they are supposed to hold. We see this, for instance, in the demonization of sexually active women in figures like the Sirens, or the way that villains in Hollywood are so often queer-coded, even in films made this century. 

Every society and every time period will react to these threats differently, so while there are some patterns we can spot which repeat, each monster reflects back the particular concerns of the society that generated it.  

The Victorious Sphinx by Gustave Moreau, 1886. You had only one chance to get the riddle of the Sphinx right

What’s your favorite monster, and why?

I have a soft spot for Medusa, as you may already have noticed, but I’m going to say the Sphinx.

Oedipus and the Sphinx by Gustave Moreau, 1864. The wandering hero solves the riddle, so upsetting the Sphinx, she kills herself

Before Oedipus shows up and solves her riddle, she has been patiently sitting on the road to Thebes, saying her piece to every passing traveller and then, when they don’t listen to her properly and instead try to mansplain her riddle to her, eating them. I admit that this might be a slightly free interpretation of the myth, but it does strike me that Oedipus solves the riddle because he’s the first person to actually pay attention to what the Sphinx is saying, as opposed to all her previous victims who just thought that they’d understood her. 

Hercules and Cerberus by Peter Paul Rubens, 1637. Bad doggie! The three-headed pooch Cerberus guards the gates of Hell, but is caught by Hercules as one of his tasks

What monster would you least like to encounter?

Cerberus. I’m just not a dog person, let alone a three-headed dog person. 

Alexander the Great: 8 WTF Facts About His Early Life

Young, bisexual, clever and brave: How this military genius was supposedly responsible for the destruction of one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, solved the Gordian knot, succeeded King Philip II of Macedon and almost died in his first battle against the Persian Empire.

This young man accomplished so much in his short time on Earth

Only the chosen few historical figures merit an epithet. But no one should begrudge Alexander being called the Great. In fact, “Great” doesn’t seem to do this military genius justice. 

I recently cruised through Philip Freeman’s highly entertaining history book, Alexander the Great. It helps that this ancient conqueror’s life, which was all too short, was nonetheless packed with dramatic moments. That’s not to diminish the author’s talent, though. Alexander the Great is as close to a novel as any history book could be.

“Attalus proceeded to rape Pausanias, and then invited all of his guests to do likewise.

After they were done, he was brought to the stables for the mule drivers, the lowliest of servants, to have their way with the unconscious young man as well.”

Here are eight surprising stories I learned about Alexander the Great’s early life.

What woman could resist seduction by Zeus, this sexy beast — even in the form of a lightning bolt? Certainly not Alexander’s mom!

1. His mother claimed he was the son of Zeus.

Alexander’s mother, Olympias, an intense woman who wasn’t afraid to fight for what she wanted, told him that he was wasn’t actually the son of King Philip II of Macedonia. Instead, he was the offspring of the king of the gods, Zeus, who seduced her in the form of a lightning bolt. How shocking! This revelation surely spurred on her son’s hubris as he set off with the humble goal of conquering the world. 

Alexander, who was born in 356 BCE, had been brought up believing he had divine ancestors on both sides: His mother was said to have been a relative of Achilles, the son of Thetis the nereid, a minor goddess of the sea. And his father Philip could trace his lineage back to Herakles (better known to us by his Roman name, Hercules), a demigod who was also the son of Zeus.

The Building of the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus by Hendrik van Cleve III. Do we have Alexander the Great to blame for its loss?

2. His birth became part of a legend about the destruction of one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

Helping lend import to the birth of this astounding conqueror was a story that spread, claiming he was the cause of the complete annihilation of the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus. The goddess, you see, was out of town, attending Alexander’s birth, distracted while her temple burned to the ground. 

“The Persian priests known as Magi who were resident in Ephesus reportedly ran madly about the ruins of the temple beating their faces and declaring that one who would bring calamity on Asia had been born that day,” Freeman says. “Other writers more soberly pointed out that the highly flammable temple had been burned down repeatedly in the past and on this occasion had been set ablaze by a mentally disturbed man.”

Never let the truth get in the way of some good propaganda.

Alexander the Great much preferred battles to the bedroom

3. Alexander didn’t like sex or sleeping.

I’ve always thought of Alexander the Great as a gay superhero of sorts, but he had sexual relations with both males and females. He had three sons from various women, though he did seem to prefer boys, even from an early age. In fact, his overbearing mother, Olympias, was worried about his lack of interest in the ladies and went so far as to hire the hottest prostitute around, a Thracian beauty named Callixeina, to seduce her son. It didn’t work. 

“It seems that the unrestrained passion and subsequent weariness of lovemaking deeply troubled the young man,” Freeman writes. “As Alexander would confess years later, sex and sleep more than anything else reminded him that he was mortal.”

This handsome gent is King Philip II, father of Alexander the Great. Hell hath no fury like a gay guy scorned: One of his ex-lovers assassinated him

4. The assassin of his father, Philip II, partly blamed the king for his being gang-raped.

A noble page named Pausanias was quite the looker, and Philip took him as a lover. But once Pausanias was no longer an adolescent, Philip lost interest, the perv. Another royal courtier also named Pausanias (it must’ve been the Chris of Ancient Macedonia) became the king’s boy toy, and the first P was cast aside. L’il P, perhaps in part because his rival had spread rumors about him being a hermaphrodite slut, died in a battle against the Illyrians, trying to prove his manliness.

A general named Attalus was upset at the loss of one of his favorites and plotted revenge on the first Pausanias. He invited the young man to a feast, and instead of diluting the wine like usual, he plowed him with full-strength booze. Soon P had passed out on the couch. Attalus proceeded to rape him, and then invited all of his guests to do likewise. After they were done, P was brought to the stables for the mule drivers, the lowliest of servants, to have their way with the unconscious young man as well.

When he awoke the next day (sore, I’m sure), he found himself the laughing stock of the Macedonian court. As time went by, Pausanias decided to avenge himself. General Attalus had left to command troops in Asia, but King Philip was around. On the morning of the marriage of Philip’s daughter Cleopatra, Pausanias rushed the ruler and stabbed him in the chest, killing him. 

Pausanias’ conspirators betrayed him, the assassin was caught and killed, and his corpse was hung on a cross like a slave.

Sure, she looks sweet on this coin. But Alexander’s mother, Olympias, was anything but

5. Alexander’s mother was a baby-burning monster.

In the months after the king’s death, Olympias performed some horrific acts while Alexander was away. She forced Philip’s young widow, another Cleopatra, to watch as her infant daughter was roasted alive. Olympias then presented Cleopatra with three “gifts”: a rope, a dagger and poison, letting her choose her means of suicide. 

Alexander’s mother, Olympias, oversees the crucifixion of Pausanias, who murdered the king. She also ordered the death of a child and forced her rival to commit suicide (looks like she chose the rope)

“Alexander was reportedly shocked by his mother’s behavior, but he did not punish her,” Freeman writes.

Alexander Consulting the Oracle of Apollo by Louis Jean François Lagrenée. When you fancy yourself conqueror of the world, you don’t care if the Oracle at Delphi says she’s busy

6. Oracles helped bolster Alexander’s claim to divinity and predicted his success.

I’ve always wished we still had oracles — something about these mysterious priestesses who act as vessels for the gods, answering queries in nebulous riddles, has always appealed to me.

Alexander, too, was fascinated by oracles, as were many people at the time. So when he got to the famous Oracle of Delphi and learned that the priestess was in religious seclusion, not to be disturbed, Alexander barged into her lodgings and dragged her to the shrine. When the woman shouted, “You are invincible!” it must have been music to his ears.

Later, once he reached Egypt, Alexander marched his troops on a grueling trek through the desert to the oasis of Siwa, where another oracle resided, this one to the chief deity of the Egyptian pantheon, Amun. 

The priest, who had a thick accent while speaking Greek, greeted Alexander with a slight slip of the tongue. Instead of saying, “O my child,” it came out “O child of the god.” That was all Alexander needed to hear to cement his divine parentage. 

A slip of the tongue by a priest — and you could fancy yourself a demigod, like Alexander the Great did

It might seem strange to us to think that someone could actually believe they were born of a god. But keep in mind that Alexander was in Egypt, a land where the pharaohs who ruled over it had long claimed divine parentage; it was a large part of what legitimized their claim to the throne.

Alexander ended the session with the oracle by asking if he was destined to be master of all the world. 

The oracle nodded. It must have been a welcome surprise, as oracles are known for their frustratingly cryptic responses, which could interpreted in contradictory ways. But there’s not much to doubt from a nod of assent. 

“Alexander’s mother presented her rival with three “gifts”: a rope, a dagger and poison, letting her choose her means of suicide. ”

7. Alexander almost died in his first battle against the Persians.

Imagine how different things would have been if this mighty king had fallen so early in his campaign. During a melee packed with aristocrats at the Granicus River in 334 BCE, Alexander stabbed a man named Mithridates, the son-in-law of the Great King of Persia, right in the face, killing him. Distracted by this battle, Alexander didn’t notice another Persian nobleman, Rhoesaces, who struck a blow on his head so hard it broke his helmet in two. Alexander recovered enough to skewer Rhoesaces with his lance. As this was happening, the satrap, or provincial governor, raised his sword to kill Alexander. A veteran Macedonian soldier known as Black Cleitus rushed forward and cleanly sliced off the man’s arm at the shoulder, right as it hovered in its death blow above Alexander.

I told you: There’s no shortage of drama in this tale.

Sometimes it’s best to take the easy way out — if you can exploit a loophole like Alexander did when faced with a seemingly impossible task

8. Alexander had a controversial way of solving the challenge of the Gordian knot.

It was the stuff of legends: A knot attached to the yoke of a wagon at the temple of Zeus in the land of Phrygia was so complex, all those who tried to undo it failed. And plenty tried, for it was said that whoever could do so would rule all of Asia. 

That’s just the sort of challenge Alexander couldn’t resist. The knot was made of rough bark with no visible ends. Not wanting to lose face, Alexander took one look at the complex jumble, whipped out his sword and cut the knot in two.

That always felt a bit cheaty to me when I heard this tale — though you’ve got to respect the guy for so cleverly exploiting a loophole. –Wally

Christmas Around the World

Learn strange Christmas traditions from other countries.

Why are these people in blackface? It’s just one of the quirky Dutch Christmas traditions!

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, as the song goes. But in many parts of the world, it’s one of the strangest times of the year as well.

Americans have their share of kooky Christmas traditions, including the belief that a misfit reindeer with a glowing red nose named Rudolph flies through the sky, helping pull a fat man’s sleigh. Not to mention that said fat man somehow fits all the presents for every kid onto this sleigh and makes it around the world, slipping down chimneys, all in a single night.
But that’s nothing compared to some of the holiday traditions in other parts of the world.

“People in the Netherlands dress as Black Peter, a Moor, by putting on blackface. ”

For example, Christmas takes on a strangely scatalogical bent in Catalonia, a region of Spain. People place the figurine of a guy in the act of deficating in their nativity scenes as well as beat a log until it poops out treats for kids.

And in Austria and other parts of Europe, if you’re a naughty child, a devil named Krampus will kidnap you, beat you savagely with a stick and drag you to Hell.

Here are some of the more bizarre ways to celebrate the holidays in other parts of the world.

The Dutch version of Santa Claus has a helper named Zwarte Piet, or Black Peter

Go in blackface as Santa’s helper in the Netherlands.

Sinterklaas, as Santa Claus is known to the Dutch people, travels with his servant. But instead of diminutive elves, Sinterklaas is accompanied by Zwarte Piet, or Black Peter. Today people dress as Black Peter, a Moor, by putting on blackface. Not very PC — it’s amazing this tradition still exists. It wouldn’t in the United States, I’ll tell ya that.

Someone’s been naughty and needs to get stuffed into a sack and sent off to Spain!

It’s these fellows who keep tabs on who’s been naughty and who’s been nice. The good kids get presents, while the bad ones are shoved into a sack and taken off to Spain for a year of reform school.

Spiderweb decorations are common in Ukraine and Poland

Decorate the tree with spiderweb ornaments in Ukraine and Poland.

Spiderweb ornaments might sound more Halloween than Christmas, but there’s a story behind them. A poor Ukrainian widow lived with her children in a hut. The kids saw a majestic evergreen outside and wanted it to be their Christmas tree. Trouble was, they didn’t have any ornaments and couldn’t afford them.

So the woman cried herself to sleep that night. The hut’s spiders heard her sobs and decorated the tree in intricate webs overnight. In the morning, the sunrise caught the webs and made them glisten like metal. And everyone lived happily ever after, as they tend to do in these fairy tales.

In Poland, they also decorate Christmas trees with spiderwebs, but there’s a different tale behind this tradition. They believe a spider wove a blanket for baby Jesus. I’m sure it wasn’t warm and was annoyingly sticky, but I suppose they appreciated the sentiment.  

If a witch can’t find a broom in your house, Norwegians think she’ll leave you alone

Hide brooms from the witches in Norway.

Apparently witches and evil spirits like to come out to play on Christmas Eve. So Norwegians, to keep them at bay, hide their brooms, which we all know is a witch’s favorite means of travel. To thwart the witches and evil spirits, men will also fire three shots from their rifles into the air.

These nuns in Venezuela were off to celebrate Christmas mass on roller skates

Roller skate to church in Venezuela.

Amid the explosions of firecrackers, entire Venezuelan families in Caracas don roller skates and head off to Catholic mass. As tradition has it, children go to bed with a piece of string tied around their toe with the other end dangling out the window. As the skaters roll past, they give the string a tug, and children know that it’s time to put their own skates on. It’s such a popular tradition that the government took to closing entire streets to traffic so families could skate together in safety. This has gotta be the only time church feels like a disco club. All that’s missing is the mirror ball.

Grab your horse skull! It’s time to go wassailing in Wales!

Carol (and beg for booze) with a dead horse in Wales.

Perhaps you’ve heard the song that begins, “Here we come a-wassailing.” This is the Welsh version of caroling. Wassail is an old England word for “cheers” and can also refer to the boozy beverages the carolers are begging for: ale or mulled wine.

The old Mari Lwyd just ain’t what she used to be

The tradition, known as Mari Lwyd, translates to the Gray Mare, involves people going from house to house, singing and challenging the families inside to a battle of rhyming insults until they get a boozy beverage. What makes this creepy is that one person dresses up like a horse, donning a white sheet topped with an actual horse skull adorned with ears and eyes.

Take me to church

Bring a rooster to mass in Bolivia.

Bolivians celebrate Misa del Gallo (Mass of the Rooster), the midnight service on Christmas Eve, by bringing along a rooster. It must get quite boisterous. But what’s with all the cocks? It’s to honor the creature that is believed to be the first to have announced the birth of baby Jesus.

Dark-haired men, come on in! Blonde and red-haired women, stay the heck away!

Hope for a dark-haired man to visit you on Christmas in Estonia and Ireland.

Your first Christmas visitor (the first-footer) can determine if your household will have a good year or not — at least that’s what the Estonians believe. If you’re a woman, blonde or red-haired, just stay home, though, please. It’s really only dark-haired gents who bring good luck.

Ireland has the same tradition, though they light a candle and, at the last stroke of midnight, throw open their front doors to welcome in the New Year. Women will beat the door with a loaf of bread, while hoping for a dark-haired gentleman to darken their doorway.

People in Finland buy small tin horseshoes to melt on New Year’s Eve as part of a fortune-telling ritual

Melt tin and predict the future in Finland.

You might need a book of symbols and their meanings for this tradition. On New Year’s Eve, Finns purchase small tin horseshoes to melt and ladles. The molten tin is dropped  into a bucket of snow or ice-cold water. Once it hardens, they hold the blob up to the light to see what shape its shadow casts. If it looks like a hill, for example, there will be obstacles ahead. If it looks like a coin, you’ll be coming into some money.

Pesky Greek goblins called the kallikantzari take a break from trying to cut down the World Tree to cause mischief on the 12 days of Christmas

Kallikantzari like to scare humans — and poop in their food

Watch out for goblins in Greece.

According to Greek legend, the hobgoblins called kallikantzari come up from their underground homes on Christmas Day to play tricks on humans until Ephiphany, January 6. They’re particularly fond of sneaking down the chimney like Santa to hide in your home and jump out and scare you. The kallikantzari also rearrange the furniture and, shudder, take dumps in any open containers of food they find.

Grab a colander — it’s one of the best ways to get rid of these Greek goblins

If you want to avoid goblin crap on your cookies, burn logs or old shoes, or hang sausages or sweetmeats in the chimney. In addition, many Greeks put a colander on their doorsteps because the goblins will be compelled to count the holes. They don’t make much headway, though, according to A Scary Little Christmas, because the dim-witted creatures can only count to two.

They’re burning Mickey Mouse?! What did he ever do to hurt anyone?

Burn effigies in Ecuador.

In their own version of Guy Fawkes Day, Ecuadorians celebrate La Quema de los Años Viejos, the Burning of the Old Years. They make life-size dolls that resemble someone they dislike — maybe a local politician or the ever-popular Osama bin Laden. (I’m going to guess that Trump is a new fave.) People write notes explaining why the dolls should be burned and what changes they’d like to see in the coming year.

The effigies are proudly displayed on balconies or in windows until New Year's Eve, when they’re burned in a bonfire in the street. People jump over the fires for good luck.

Don’t be late on the winter solstice — you’ll be the Thomas Donkey and will end up the butt of jokes all day

Try not to become a donkey in Germany.

Don’t be an ass! In Germany, the Winter Solstice is also known as St. Thomas Day. It’s not a good day to be tardy. In parts of the Sauerland region, if you sleep in or get to work late, you’re given a cardboard donkey. called the Thomas Donkey and you’ll be the butt of jokes all day.

At least you’re rewarded at the end of the day with Thomasplitzchen, iced currant buns.

“The Greek goblins known as the kallikantzari like to take dumps in any open containers of food they find.”

Put on your skates and grab your cock before hitting midnight mass! Maybe you can incorporate some of these traditions into your Yuletide celebrations! –Wally

The Monsters of “Supernatural,” Season 2, Episodes 10-12

Predictions from sibyls, psychics and the Oracle at Delphi. Hoodoo practices, including quincunx and voodoo doll spells. Plus, how to kill a werewolf.

One of the first recorded psychics in the world was the Oracle at Delphi, whose cryptic messages were much sought after

S2E10: “Hunted”

Monster: Psychics

Someone's hunting the psychic young men and women whom the yellow-eyed demon is enlisting as soldiers in the coming war. Sam’s one, as is Ava, his new acquaintance, who has seen a horrific vision of things to come.

Are all the “special children” ticking timebombs, sure to turn evil at some point? Ava’s financé lying in a pool of blood with his throat slit seems to point to “yes.”

Where it’s from: Cultures from all around the world have believed in psychics, but perhaps the first mention are the sibyls of Ancient Greece.

The sibyl at Delphi sitting upon her tripod and inhaling those potentially hallucinatory fumes

Description: Only a woman could be born a sibyl, which translates to “prophetess.” As a kid, I dreamed of what it would be like to visit the most famous, the Oracle at Delphi on Mount Parnassus.

The temple of the Oracle at Delphi in its heyday

What it does: These psychics would work themselves up into an ecstatic frenzy. There’s some debate as to whether or not the priestesses were helped along by natural gas emissions in their cave (think of them as the first huffers!).

Either way, once in this altered state, the sibyl would become a conduit for a deity and would speak a somewhat cryptic response to a petitioner’s question.

Emperor Nero was one of the many who visited the Oracle at Delphi, stopping by in 67 CE, when he was 30 years old. Even at that relatively young age, he’d already ticked some things off his bucket list, including having his own mother killed. The sibyl’s unforgiving prophecy went:

“Your presence here outrages the god you seek. Go back, matricide! The number 73 marks the hour of your downfall!”

Needless to say, Nero wasn’t too pleased and had the poor woman burned alive. He assumed he’d live to the ripe old age of 73 — but there’s typically some ambiguity in these psychics’ predictions. Instead, the emperor was defeated during a revolt by a man named Galba…who happened to be 73 at the time. Nero then committed suicide.

When the original Oracle at Delphi died, legend has it she became a disembodied voice that would wander the world, whispering prophecies. I’m sure you’re happy to learn the reason behind the voices in your head.

How to defeat it: They’re still humans. Killing them just because they might go bad one day — or because you don’t like their predictions — seems extreme. (Though the trail of corpses left behind on Supernatural might speak otherwise.)

Would you stay at an inn that had a murderous spirit?

S2E11: “Playthings”

Monster: Spirit

Where it’s from: All over the world

Description: A little girl named Tyler lives at an inn, where she plays with her “imaginary friend” Maggie. Turns out this friend isn’t so imaginary after all; she’s the spirit of her great aunt, Margaret, who drowned in the pool when she was young. Maggie haunts the inn and prevents it from being sold so she doesn’t have to lose her playmate, Tyler.

What it does: There’s a giant dollhouse that’s a scale model of the inn, and the position of the dolls, which seemingly move on their own, reveals a death as it happens. The first to go is a property appraiser who is found hanging in his room.

When Dean sees all the dolls in the house they’re investigating, he says, unconvincingly, “They’re not super creepy at all.”

A quincunx symbol can connect a spell to a place and make it stronger

How to defeat it: Take some cues from the innkeeper’s Creole nanny, who used some hoodoo tricks to protect the B&B and its inhabitants, including the quincunx, or five spot symbol. It looks like the five you’re familiar with from dice: four dots in each corner of a square, with one in the middle. This is a technique to fix a spell to a specific location and empower it.

On the show, a quincunx amulet filled with bloodweed becomes a powerful way to ward off evil, Sam tells us.

You can also bind a spirit with a poppet. (I did one on President Trump, but it really doesn’t seem to have done much good.) You can find the spell in this previous Supernatural post.)

If you’re more inclined to curses or bodily harm, there’s the option of using a voodoo doll on your enemy.

I’d hate to think what someone did to get this voodoo doll treatment!

Voodoo Doll Ritual

Take some sort of doll (you can buy them all over New Orleans, make one out of wax or cloth, or even borrow someone’s Barbie for these nefarious purposes).

You’ll need some part of your victim, ideally a strand of hair or a fingernail clipping — though a photograph will work in a pinch.

Create a magic circle. Take your voodoo doll and chant, “I command you; I control you” four times. Then: “Hear my voice! The pain you have caused me I shall cause you!”

Here’s where you can get creative with your punishments. Take a needle, candle or something else to poke, prod, burn or create general mayhem upon your doll. Note that you won’t kill your victim, but they should feel the pain, stinging, burning, cold or whatever you’ve subjected the doll to.

Repeat if necessary.

When all else fails, you could try striking a deal with the spirit. In this case, Grandma Rose offers her life to spend eternity playing dollies with her dead sister. Who says there’s no such thing as Heaven?

A Werewolf in Geneva, 1580

S2E12: “Nightshifter”

Monster: Not a mandroid! It’s a shapeshifter

Where it's from: Europe

Death of the Werewolf. I hope that arrow has a silver tip on it!

Description: The Winchester boys tell us werewolf stories come from these shapeshifters, even though their methods don’t match up.

Believe it or not, there were stories of werewolves even before Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight books.

A werewolf attacks a village in this woodcut from around 1512

Werewolves are humans who morph into the shape of a wolf during the full moon. The inflicted don’t remember what they’ve done during their wolf phase — which is probably a good thing, since it tends to involve mauling people to death.

One of the first written accounts of werewolves comes from Herodotus in 440 BCE, who described a tribe in Scythia who seem to have gotten stoned out of their gourds and transformed into wolves once a year.

A werewolf enjoys a tasty treat — but it’ll probably regret it in the morning

In her book Giants, Monsters and Dragons: An Encyclopedia of Folklore, Legend and Myth, Carol Rose writes, “In ancient Greece it was believed that a person could be transformed by eating the meat of a wolf that had been mixed with that of a human and that the condition was irreversible.”

Centuries later, the methods said to create werewolves expanded colorfully to include “being cursed, or by being conceived under a new moon, or by having eaten certain herbs, or by sleeping under the full moon on Friday, or by drinking water that has been touched by a wolf.”

What it does: You never know who to trust. The Supernatural shapeshifter sheds its skin in a goopy mess and keeps jumping bodies.

“God, it’s like playing the shell game,” Dean exclaims. “It could be anybody. Again.”

How to defeat it: It makes sense that silver, associated with the moon, seems to be the only thing that can end a werewolf’s life. (On a somewhat silly side note, if werewolves were to travel to the moon or touch a moon rock, it’d be even more harmful than silver — at least according to Ask Mystic Investigations, that is. The same site insists that silver can kill werewolves “due to cleansing away the demonic DNA that dwells in them.”) Ruff life. –Wally

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The Monsters of “Supernatural,” Season 2, Episodes 4-6

A zombie attack, hypnosis and H.H. Holmes all make appearances. Learn how to talk to the dead and prevent corpses from becoming revenants.

Not all zombies want to eat brains. Some go right for the guts

S2E4: “Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things”

Monster: Zombie

Where it’s from: This type hails from Greece

Description: While there are zombie traditions from around the world, this episode deals with the Greek version. Sometimes called revenants, they’re people who have returned from the dead. They still inhabit their old bodies, so they’re often subject to decay.

What it does: The idea of Greek zombies might relate back to the Keres, female spirits of violent death. Their mother is Nyx, the goddess of darkness, and they’re aligned with the Fates, a trio of goddesses who determine people’s destinies (indeed, the Keres are sometimes referred to as the Death Fates).

““Murder Castle,” a massive boarding house, had labyrinthine hallways and secret rooms — including a gas chamber and a large kiln convenient for disposing of bodies. ”

Zombies are corpses come back from the dead — and they’re not the brightest of the undead

This graphic description of a battlefield from Hesiod shows their mad fury for blood and gore, a key part of our modern takes on zombies (such as The Walking Dead, Dawn of the Dead and 28 Days Later):

The black Keres, clashing their white teeth, grim-faced, shaggy, blood-bespattered, dread, kept struggling for the fallen. They all wanted to drink black blood whom first they caught, lying or fallen newly wounded. Around him they threw their mighty talons, and the shade to Hades went, in icy Tartarus. Their hearts were glutted with human blood: They threw away the corpse, and back to the tumult and fighting rushed, in new desire.

You can tell a person has returned from the dead from the unholy ground around their grave, revealed by a circle of dead grass.

How to defeat it: Dean: We’ve got a full-on zombie running around. We have to figure out how to kill it.

Sam: Our lives are weird.

There are many reports on how to kill the walking dead — set them on fire, or Sam’s personal favorite: cut out the heart and feed it to a wild dog — but the Winchester Bros. decide to go with silver bullets. Trouble is, this hardly slowed her down: “Damn, that dead chick can run,” Dean says.

In the end, they go with nailing the undead creature back into its grave bed. This means of stopping zombies has been practiced for centuries.

“Ancient Greeks on the island of Sicily had a fear of revenants so dire they weighed bodies down with rocks and amphora pieces to keep them from rising from their graves to haunt the living,” Ancient Origins reports.

On Supernatural, a divination ritual brings the corpse back to life, but divination is really a way to predict the future.

Who hasn’t wanted to speak with the dead? Well, we’ve got just the ritual for you!

Necromancy Divination Ritual to Speak With the Dead

Make a figure out of dough to represent the person you want to talk to. Dress it with a few bay leaves and some fennel.

Dig a ditch deep enough to stand in and surround it with incense. Pour in a mixture of wine, honey and milk. Then nick your finger and squeeze a few drops of blood into the mixture.

Work yourself into an ecstatic state (“a few cans of Red Bull will probably do the trick,” jokes the blog’s author) before finally speaking to the dead.

Source: Creating Weirdness on a Daily Basis…

Ever done something you regret? Blame it on mesmerism!

S2E5: “Simon Said”

Monster: Mind control

Where it’s from: Germany

Description: This episode focuses on a young man with a strong power of suggestion (think about the famous Jedi line, “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for”). In fact, he doesn’t even have to speak — he can make you do something just by thinking it. Yikes. That’s quite a power, and would be easy to use for evil.

What it does: Mesmerism, the idea that a person could be healed via thought while they were in a trance, became all the rage in the late 1700s.

Franz Mesmer, for whom the practice is named, was a German physician who devoted his life to the study of energy transfers (or “artificial tides”) he called animal magnetism. It wasn’t until later that mesmerism focused on hypnosis.

Hypnotism is a powerful tool — just imagine getting people to do whatever you want!

How to defeat it: Perhaps the best way to steel your mind to hypnosis is to know how it works. Learn how to put people under your hypnotic spell from the Hypnosis Training Academy.

S2E6: “No Exit”

This charming gent is H.H. Holmes, one of the worst serial killers in history

Monster: Spirit of H.H. Holmes, America’s first (and potentially most prolific) serial killer

Where’s it’s from: Holmes lived in Chicago in the late 1800s, during the World’s Columbian Exposition.

Description: This man was truly a monster. Born Herman Webster Mudgett, he went by numerous aliases. He’s infamous for having created what became known as “Murder Castle,” a massive boarding house with labyrinthine hallways and secret rooms — including a gas chamber and a large kiln convenient for disposing of bodies. He admitted to 27 murders, but the death toll could actually be in the hundreds. His gruesome tale is told in Devil in the White City, which is pretty much required reading for Chicagoans.

Holmes’ spirit leaves ectoplasm, which the Winchesters say is only generated by extremely angry spirits.

What it does: Why let death stop you from killing? Holmes’ murderous spirit captures and murders innocent victims.

A rare image of Holmes’ Murder Castle, a boarding house for single women on Chicago’s South Side — quite close to the Columbian Exhibition

How to defeat it: Stab him with a pure iron dagger to make his pervy hand disappear. And trap him in a circle of salt. It might be a good idea to entomb the spirit in concrete as well, even if that means “borrowing” a cement truck like Dean does. –Wally

The Monsters of “Supernatural,” Season 1, Episodes 10-12

Learn witchcraft spells to protect yourself from ghosts, pagan gods demanding human sacrifice and Death itself.

It really is kind of effed-up what English teachers sic upon impressionable young minds. I read Shirley Jackson’s short story “The Lottery” when I was 15, and it has stuck with me ever since. I was intrigued by the idea of a modern town ritually sacrificing one of its members, based on a pagan tradition so far in the past they’ve simply ceased to question it. And the final scene, where even the poor woman’s own son is given pebbles to help stone his mother to death, shook me to the core.

There’s a similar type situation in this roundup of Supernatural monsters. And we’ll also meet Death himself.

“Symptoms of ghostly possession can include oily skin, rashes, feeling like your eyes are being pulled inside, migraines, the sensation of being strangled, loss of appetite (or increased appetite), tics and miscarriages.”

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There were only two people posing for this pic!

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Apparently, ghostly possession is way more common than we think

S1 E10: “Asylum”

Monster: Ghost

Where it’s from: All over the world. About 30% of the world’s population is possessed by ghosts, according to the Spiritual Science Research Foundation, which I’m sure is totally legit.

Description: This particular spirit possesses people and feeds off their rage.

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Encountering a ghost? Don’t panic — we’ve got you covered

What it does: Symptoms of ghostly possession can include oily skin, rashes, feeling like your eyes are being pulled inside, migraines, the sensation of being strangled, loss of appetite (or increased appetite), tics and miscarriages. In this particular case, those possessed turn murderous and then suicidal.

How to defeat it: A rifle loaded with rock salt can repel the ghost. Salt has a long history of protective properties.

To fully destroy the ghost and restore those who are possessed to themselves, Dean and Sam Winchester have to find the original corpse and burn it.

That scarecrow could come to life with the murderous spirit of a pagan god

S1 E11: “Scarecrow”

Monster: Vanir, a pagan Norse god

Where it’s from: Northern Germany and Scandinavia

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Freya is the goddess of beauty (and a bit of a slut, turns out)

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Freya is also the goddess of war and death

Description: This branch of the Norse gods holds in its ranks Freya, goddess of love, beauty, sex, gold, war and death (busy gal), accused by Loki of having slept with all the elves and gods, including her brothers.

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Pagans would offer sacrifices to Freyr, the Norse god of fertility

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Freyr’s power over fertility is symbolized by his giant phallus, as depicted in this idol

Speaking of which, her brother Freyr, god of fertility, was a popular guy. People’s well-being and prosperity depended upon him, including bountiful harvests. This was apparently symbolized by his “enormous, erect phallus.”

What it does: Freyr was a frequent recipient of sacrifices, including the celebration of a harvest. Instead of offering up the traditional sacrifice of his favored animal, the boar, the townsfolk in the episode lured one male and one female to their deaths. With the sacrifice, the town assures a good harvest and general happiness.

The personification of this Vanir takes on the form of a living scarecrow, which actually has more of a connection to the Celts and their wicker man.

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Julius Caesar wrote about the Gallic practice of burning humans alive in a giant wicker man

This sick ritual was described by none other than Julius Caesar in Book Six of The Gallic War:

“The whole Gallic race is addicted to religious ritual; consequently those suffering from serious maladies or subject to the perils of battle sacrifice human victims. … Some weave huge figures of wicker and fill their limbs with humans, who are then burned to death when the figures are set afire. They suppose that the gods prefer this execution to be applied to thieves, robbers and other malefactors taken in the act, but in default of such they resort to the execution of the innocent.”

How to defeat it: In Norse mythology, Yggdrasil is the mythical tree that connects the nine worlds, which include Asgard, where Thor and his relations live, and Midgard, their term for Earth.

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In Norse mythology, the sacred tree Yggdrasil connects the nine worlds

In this episode, there’s a sacred tree that’s tied to the Vanir. Once the Winchester Brothers chopped it down, the god — and his blessings — abandon the village.

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Our personification of death as the Grim Reaper began in Ancient Greece

S1 E12: "Faith"

Monster: Reaper

Where it’s from: All over the world, especially the United States and Europe

An old tarot Death card from Germany depicts a reaper

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The reaper uses its scythe to chop up bodies

Description: The Grim Reaper is the personification of death. He’s most often depicted as a skeletal figure wearing a black hooded robe and carrying a large scythe. In some parts of Europe, his robe is white.

Ancient Greeks worshiped Thanatos, or Death, who was portrayed as an attractive, bearded man with wings and an extinguished flame (what vivid symbolism!). Departed souls had to pay the ferryman Charon to get across the River Styx into the underworld. Some sources described Charon as a skeletal figure much like today’s Grim Reaper.

What it does: On the show, reapers can stop time — and only their victims can see them coming for them.

How to defeat it: As the altar Sam discovers attests, you can gain control over a reaper with a binding spell.

Poppet Binding Spell

This spell is best worked on a waning or dark moon.

Cut two layers of black cloth in the rough shape of the person or creature you wish to bind and sew together to create a small poppet. Leave part of the head unstitched.

Fill the poppet with earth, a smoky quartz and an amethyst. Also include hair or nail clippings, or a photograph or sample of handwriting of the person you wish to bind.

Create a sacred circle, then take an altar candle and a black candle. Hold the poppet out in front of you and say:

Creature of cloth thou art,
Now creature of flesh and blood you be.
I name you [name of the person or creature you are binding].
No more shall you do me harm,
No more shall you spread false tales,
No more shall you interfere in my life,
Nor in the lives of my loved ones.
By the power of the gods and by my will,
So mote it be.

Draw an invoking pentagram over the poppet.

Now take some black ribbon or wool and begin to wrap the poppet like a mummy, leaving no space unwrapped and say:

I bind your feet from bringing you to harm me.
I bind your hands from reaching out to harm me.
I bind your mouth from spreading tales to harm me.
I bind your mind from sending energy to harm me.
If you continue to do so, let all negative energy be cast directly back at you!

Tie off the ribbon and hold the poppet in front of you. Visualize all the negative energy this person has sent you being cast back at them.

Wrap the poppet in a piece of black cloth and tie with a black ribbon. Say:

Great Mother, I have bound this person
From harming me and my loved ones.
By the powers of three times three,
By Earth and Fire, Air and Sea,
I fix this spell, then set it free,
’Twill give no harm to return on me,
As I will, so mote it be!

Let the candle burn out while the poppet sits at its base.

Then take the poppet and the remains of the candle and bury them in the ground or toss them in the ocean. Walk away without looking back.

Now, it’s not always possible to get nail clippings and the like from your enemy (does Death even have fingernails?!), so this spell from Free Witchcraft Spells might work better. It takes some time; so hopefully you can avoid the reaper in the meantime!

Black Candle Binding Spell

Anoint a black candle with sandalwood oil while you concentrate on the person or creature you want to get out of your life.

Wrap a piece of black thread around the candle until you use the whole length, then tie it tightly.

Repeat this, with a piece of black yarn. Then, on top of that, wind around a piece of rough twine of the same length. The exact lengths of the cords don’t matter — just use the same for all three. About 18 inches works well.

Light the candle, and let it burn out completely. Try to do this spell in the evening, letting the candle burn down overnight. Keep it somewhere safe and flameproof because the strings might catch fire as the candle burns down. I’ll burn candles in a small cauldron for my peace of mind.

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You can try, but there really is no escaping death

Give it a go, but let’s face it: If your time has come, Death will find you. Have the Final Destination movies taught us nothing? –Wally

Travel Karma

Some trips are blessed, some cursed.

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We are all connected, as this detail from a Jain temple in Rajasthan, India shows

My son’s friend went off a cliff on a defective scooter on the Greek island of Poros. He had to be flown to Athens on the orders of the local doctor whose limited English had him explain, “I can see his mind.” In other words, a big gash in the head.

My rented jeep was confiscated when the owner saw a wrecked scooter in the back. My son’s scooter was confiscated when he rode through town during siesta looking for help. Bad travel karma.

“We all put one foot slowly behind the other, except for a newlywed groom who turned and ran, knocking his bride to the ground without ever breaking stride. They did not speak for the rest of the trip.”

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My two friends and I met Ahmed on the train in Morocco from Rabat to Fès. Ahmed was middle-aged, skinny, snaggle-toothed — too much sugar in the mint tea — and extremely talkative. He was a nice man and we had three hours to kill. We heard about his nine siblings and his extended family of 45, who prevent him from selling his father’s riad since he can’t get everyone to sign the papers. Ahmed worked for the leather cooperative.

He wasn’t pushy but he gave us his number. When we called, he sent Abdul, who guided us to the tannery and gave us a tour of the medina, two hours, more than five miles, much of it uphill. He led us through the rat’s maze of streets and the crush of people and didn’t seem to mind that, although we bought leather, we didn’t buy anything else. A nice guy showing people his hometown. Good travel karma.

Bad travel karma can haunt you for years.

We were told by the guide in Zimbabwe that if charged by a lion, we must not run and we must not panic. We set off on foot through Matusadona on Lake Kariba. A female lion crossed the dry riverbed we were walking down. We stopped. She disappeared into the bush. We went on. She charged when we came even with her and her two cubs.

A charging lion makes a noise that shakes the earth, a growl that starts in the soles of your feet and travels to the back of your neck like a lightning striking. We all froze. The guide raised his gun but did not cock it. We stared at her. She stared at us. The guide whispered, “Back up.” We all put one foot slowly behind the other, except for a newlywed groom who turned and ran, knocking his bride to the ground without ever breaking stride. The guide scooped her up with one hand while still aiming at the lioness. The bride and groom did not speak for the rest of the trip. Bad travel karma is a bad start to a marriage.

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RELATED: Getting From Málaga to Morocco Is a Total Pain in the Ass

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Good travel karma can be accrued.

In Turkey, Egypt and Morocco, taxis are often shared. You give the driver your destination, but if there’s room, he may stop and pick up somebody else. Sometimes even if there’s not room. Cabs never use their meters and never have change. Pay it forward. How much for the lady in the front seat with the two gallons of olive oil?

A little global goodwill goes a long way, and you may earn so much good travel karma that your Airbnb host serves a lunch of tagine with fresh sardines and warm bread.

How to Accrue Good Travel Karma

• Don’t give money to beggar children; give pencils.
• Always give away leftovers.
• Pack used clothes to trade at street markets in sub-Saharan Africa. They can be worn or sold. Used jeans, and you’re royalty for a day.
• Pose for pictures with people. I am in the family albums of more Indian families than I can count, often with their children in my lap.

Karma goes around and it comes around, the original global energy. –Rebecca