The Rooster’s Hole

At the spot where two old roads cross in the hills above Stoumont, a stone cross has stood guard for centuries. Beside the cross is a narrow opening in the ground — no wider than a well but seemingly without bottom. The villagers call it le Trou du Coq, the Rooster’s Hole, and anyone passing by makes the sign of the cross.

According to the tale, a farmer once lived near the crossroads who had lost his finest rooster. The bird had fallen into the hole while pecking for worms at its edge. The farmer tried to peer into the depths, but no matter how far he looked he could see no bottom. The rooster crowed three more times from below, each time fainter, and then fell silent.

But ever since, on the longest night of the year, passers-by at the crossroads heard a rooster crow — not from a farm or a henhouse but from the earth itself. The sound came from the hole, clear and piercing, as though the bird were trapped underground in an eternal dawn. Some said it was not the rooster that crowed but a warning from the other side.

The stone cross was placed there by the priest of Stoumont, who blessed the hole and said a prayer over it. Since then the rooster crows only on the longest night, and only those who pass the crossroads with impure intentions hear the sound. The cross still stands, weathered by the centuries, a silent sentinel over a mystery no one wishes to fathom.