👻 Geister Hörbuch Erzählung zum Einschlafen "Das wohlbezahlte Gespenst" von Johann Peter Hebel

Hello and nice that you are here. I am Rico. Stories are great. On a churchyard, a ghost drives his being and puts all evening visitors in fear and horror. One day, a man decides to take up the matter and drive the ghost away. Will he succeed? If you don't want to miss any more stories and haven't subscribed to the channel yet, then subscribe to it and activate the bell. And now have fun listening. The well-paid ghost by Johann Peter Hebel In a certain village, which I could probably call, there is a common footpath over the churchyard. And from there through the field of a man who lives at the church and it is a right. When the paths of the field are slippery and impassable in the wet weather, one went deeper and deeper into the field and tore the seed to the owner, so that the path became wider and the field became narrower in the constant wet weather. And that was not a right. In part, the damaged man knew how to help himself. During the day, when he had nothing else to do, he worked hard. And when an unreasonable man came this way, who preferred to spare his shoes than his neighbor's garden seed, he ran quickly to it and cut it, or did it with a few earplugs. At night, however, where you still need a good way first and look for it, the worse it was. And the thorns and cracks, with which he wanted to make the wanderer understand where the way was, were all torn down or kicked out in a few nights. And some did it maybe with diligence. But then something else happened to the man. It suddenly became uncertain on the churchyard which way to go. In dry weather and somewhat bright nights, one often saw a long, white ghost walk over the graves. When it rained or was very dark, one soon heard a fearful moaning and whinnying in the barn, soon a clatter as if all the dead heads and dead bodies wanted to come to life in it. Whoever heard that, jumped shakily out again to the next churchyard door. And in a short time one saw, as soon as the evening dawned and the last swarm had disappeared from the air, certainly no more people on the way to the churchyard, until a sensible and cordial man from a neighboring village was late at this place and took the nearest way home over this deserted place and over the barley field. For as soon as his friends presented him with the danger and defended him for a long time, he said in the end, If it is a ghost, I go with God as an honest man to my wife and children's home on the nearest way. I have done nothing evil. And a ghost, even if it is the worst of all, does nothing to me. But it is meat and leg. So I have two fists with me. They have also been there. He went. But when he came to the churchyard and was barely past the second grave, he heard a mournful moaning and moaning behind him. And when he looked back, Behold! There rose behind him, like from a grave, a long white figure. The moon shimmered pale over the graves. Dead silence was all around. Only a few bats fluttered past. The good man was not at ease, as he later admitted himself, and would have liked to have gone back if he had not had to pass the ghost again. What was to be done now? Slowly and quietly he walked his way past the graves and some black dead cross. Slowly and constantly, the ghost followed him to his desolation, to the end of the churchyard. And that was all right. And to the end of the churchyard. And that was stupid. But that is how it goes. No deceiver is so smart. He repents. For as soon as the persecuted man saw the ghost on the field, he thought to himself, A righteous ghost must remain like a guard on his post, and a ghost that belongs to the churchyard does not go to the field. So he suddenly got courage, turned around quickly, grasped the white figure with a firm hand, and soon noticed that under a linen cloth he had a boy on his chest, who was not yet at home in the churchyard. So he began to drum on him with the other fist, until his courage had cooled down on him, and since he did not see where he was going in front of the linen cloth, the poor ghost had to accept the blows as they fell. Now the matter was over, and nothing more was learned of it, than that the owner of the churchyard walked around for a few weeks with blue and yellow cirrhosis in his face, and from that moment on there was no longer a ghost to be seen on the churchyard. Because such people as our man of honor, these are the righteous ghost-banners alone, and it would be desirable that every other deceiver and trickster Hans would also want to find his right and his master. Thank you for listening. If you liked the story and you are not sleeping yet, I would be happy about a thumbs up and a comment. And if you can't sleep yet, you can find another story here. See you soon!