Hang-Jozef and the White Lady

Hang-Jozef was not like other men in the village. His body was worn by years, his gaze penetrating and full of secrets. No one knew exactly why he had been given this particular name—some said it came from his shuffling gait, others whispered darker tales. What everyone did know was that he had never been properly baptized, as was custom, and this sin against the church had bestowed upon him strange gifts.

In those times, when faith governed every corner of existence, an incomplete baptism was viewed as a breach in the natural order of things. Hang-Jozef carried this breach with him like a scar—visible in the fear that gleamed in the eyes of those who encountered him. He spoke little, walked much alone, and seemed to belong to another age entirely.

One day—a day the villagers would never forget—someone from the village approached Hang-Jozef with an extraordinary request. They wanted to know if the tales were true. They wanted him to summon the mysterious “White Lady,” a ghost dressed in white silk of whom the stories spoke. With a grave expression, Hang-Jozef agreed.

And then it happened. The air grew cold, the light faded to gray, and she appeared—a beautiful woman clad in silk white as snow, her face pale yet perfect, her gaze infinitely ancient. She was real, barely visible, barely tangible, a being caught between two worlds. But the person who had asked for her summoning could not bear the shock. With a cry of terror, he fled into the night, spending the entire night in prayer within the chapel.

After that night, Hang-Jozef’s story changed forever. The man who had seen the White Lady spoke of it to no one, yet the fact itself that he was so deeply afraid proved what the village had always suspected. Hang-Jozef became more avoided, more feared, more secretly revered.

Years passed. Hang-Jozef eventually vanished into the mist of history, but his name remained in Membruggen like a warning and a mystery. In village inns, the tales are told to this day: of the man who was not entirely Christian, of his unfathomable powers, and above all of the White Lady who still walks—or so some say—along the Jeker on certain nights, forever seeking those who dare to summon her.