About the Välkkykettu

A brief look into my mind.

Image by me, via Nightcafe.

Some folks have asked if I mind if they write stories about the Välkkykettu¹, and I don’t mind(ish) — but I thought that a brief post about what went through my mind as I created my own version of the character might be helpful.

Plus, it gives me something to write about.

When I sat down at the keyboard, the Välkkykettu was new — (“neo-folklore” according to Grok) — but there was another Finnish fox spirit with ancient origins: the tulikettu.

The tulikettu² is described as a fox made from flame that during the day has fur black as coal, but in the dark its fur shimmers; and spits sparks when stroked.³

At night, as the tulikettu runs (and he runs very fast) his fur rubs along snowbanks, across brush and rocks, and amongst trees, generating an incredible amount of sparks which ignite the snowflakes swept up by his tail. These burning snowflakes swirl up and create the “revontulet”⁴.

“Revontulet” is a Finnish word literally meaning “fox fires”, and is their word for the Northern Lights.

Is the Välkkykettu a tulikettu? I don’t know. I do know that in my mind, their fur shimmers, and that when they appear, there is an aurora playing in the sky.

In Sam’s description he calls the Välkkykettu the patron Saint of “chaos-gremlins”, E4s, and mischief; but anyone who has read my old blog — or this Substack — knows that I have long ranted about the modern fixation on making children’s lives too safe, too sanitized. I firmly believe that a childhood without risk is unhealthy for children, and I remain convinced that raising children in a nerfed world is detrimental to society as a whole. Which led to this passage:

And every time a delighted child indulges in chaos; tests his or her limits with BB guns, slingshots, model rocketry, “energetic chemistry”; learns the limits, then learns to break those limits; and becomes an adult with no limits, doing mighty things …

… The Välkkykettu dances exuberantly in his forest glade as the Northern lights flicker overhead.

I decided that the Välkkykettu would not just be an agent of chaos and mischief, but that he would have a purpose — to bring the gift of curiosity, and adventure, and (age-appropriate … ish) risk that all children need for a healthy childhood.

Mine, via Nightcafe

And since I am notoriously bad at judging what is “age-appropriate risk” for the sprogs this came out of my fingers:

As a good Finnish fox spirit, of course the Flickerfox has a wife. When it comes to the littles Mrs Välkkykettu tries to keep her husband's havoc age-appropriate ... but she is also a spirit of chaos. The glitter-bomb may not be to the parent's liking, but originally there was black powder involved. Be grateful.

Above all, Mrs Välkkykettu was once a little girl herself, and she knows — better than anyone — the chaos little girls need to grow.

In my mind I saw Santa Claus standing beside his sleigh on the edge of a Northern European forest, deep in winter; and rich with beauty, ancient knowledge, and danger — not the Disney kind of danger, but the impersonal danger of old folktales — and I wrote this line:

“Too safe,” hum the foxes, one voice low and dark, the other bright and silvery, “Safety dulls the soul’s claws.”

And the muse took over. Holy gods, did she take over. I pounded out the first installment on Facebook, including the rockets from my own childhood (and other things)⁵; and I tried to show where risks and chaos in childhood would take an adult.

Image by Jesse Barrett

The reaction here and on Facebook was … damn.

But I had Publisher duties, and there was an anthology I was responsible for due within 24 hours …

Image by Jesse Barrett

And when I sat down to review stories for that anthology I saw a scene in my head. A living-room at midnight Christmas Eve, a father — worn from care and worry — and the sentence:

The world is heavy. Someone piled too much on your back and forgot that you were once a child standing at the edge of something frightening and wonderful.

I re-read that sentence and realized that my idea of the Välkkykettu didn’t necessarily have to remain the domain of children …

Image by Jesse Barrett

… and four hours of frantic typing later⁶ I had the second installment. And while I thought the first one had taken off, this one went viral.

It solidified the personalities of the Flickerfoxes, the green-and-gold clothing, used fire and fox-fire as a metaphor for childhood and knowledge; and settled a very Olde World Folk Tale tone that I was looking for.

Folks loved it.

Unfortunately, by this time the ADHD heifer that is my Muse was getting bored with this subject, but I wanted one more story to finish the triptych, so I did something I’ve never done before …

… I plotted out a story.

Now, I am not an author who works from plots — I am definitely a pantser — but with my Muse chasing other glowsticks, and with how important the Välkkykettu concept was to me … I figured I’d give plotting a try.

Plotted a story around a mother, instead of the father in the second one, put in the beats I wanted, and scheduled out concepts …

… And discovered that I should probably stay in my pantsing lane. I’m not as happy with the third story, but readers thought it was charming, so I went ahead and posted it.

There you are — the story of the Välkkykettu and his wife. Since my Muse has gone dry on them — and may not ever get interested in them again — if you’d like to write about the Välkkykettu and Mrs Välkkykettu, feel free.

I would ask two things, of your kindness. The Välkkykettu is a creation of me and of Sam Robb. Please don’t take credit for our concepts.

Secondly, always remember that stories of the Välkkykettu are Christmas stories — old school Christmas stories, but Christmas stories none the less. Please do me the kindness of keeping politics and hot-button issues out of Välkkykettu stories.

If you have a particular point to make — or axe to grind — “neo-folklore” is a new, and wide-open genre. Create your own setting and tales.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Ian

1. Probably pronounced “VAHL-koo-KET-too”. Don’t quote me on that.

2. Pronounced “TOO-lee-ket-too”.

3. Probably based on the physics of static electricity in fur under cold, dry conditions.

4. Pronounced "REH-von-too-let".

5. And my brief career as the Välkkykettu, when I drew the name of a 12-year-old little girl from the Angel Tree at the County, and spent the recommended $50 dollars on a little knife, a flashlight, and a can of OC. The last time, I might add, that I was ever invited to help with the Angel Tree.

6. When I’m writing really well, it feels almost like I’m being chased, and I HAVE TO GET THE WORDS OUT.