The Cursed Horses of Oostende

It was a beautiful day when the farmhand Matijs loaded his wagon with goods. Four strong horses, robust and with a gleam in their eyes, were ready for the journey. The road to market was always flat and easy. The horses nearly danced in their movements, happy and strong.

But when Matijs returned, the impossible happened. The horses could barely move forward. Step by step, as though trapped in mud. The wagon wheels groaned. Matijs’ heart grew lighter while the hearts of the horses grew heavier.

Through the long afternoon Matijs dragged himself forward, increasingly concerned. It would never be done by evening. The horses heaved with breath, their eyes wide with fear. Something invisible held them back, something stronger than their own will.

As evening fell, when Matijs was nearly in despair, a strange man appeared in the café where the wagon stood. He wore dark clothes, his face was weathered and his eyes were clear as stars. “I see your suffering,” he said to Matijs. “I am a German Schaper. I know the signs of dark magic.”

Matijs told his story. The Schaper listened without interruption, as though he already knew everything. Then he said: “A witch has enchained your horses. With words of power, with curses anchored in the earth. She does not belong here. Her hatred speaks through the night.”

The Schaper walked to the horses and examined them with intense focus. His lips moved silently. In his hands he held herbs, salt, and something that glimmered in the darkness.

Outside, in the cold night, the Schaper performed his ritual. He spoke words that seemed to belong to no language. First salt in a circle, then herbs burned in fire. The smoke rose toward the stars, like a prayer.

The horses trembled, their bodies shaking. Then, slowly, they began to move. First foot. Second foot. The chain that no one could see shattered. The curse faded like mist in the morning sun.

Matijs felt tears stream down his face. The horses stood, their eyes bright and strong. The wagon could move. The Schaper disappeared silently into the night, his work complete. Never would Matijs forget how darkness was driven back by two words: “You are free.”