The Witches’ Dancefloor (Tanzflur)

Locals swear that on Walpurgis Night this hidden clearing becomes a gathering place for witches. Any unsuspecting traveler who wanders in is bewitched, compelled to dance until dawn—or until sheer exhaustion claims them.

The Schwarzwald—“Black Forest” in German—is a sprawling, ancient woodland where the pines grow so thick that daylight barely reaches the mossy ground. Long before Christian cathedrals rose elsewhere in Europe, these impenetrable groves served as natural temples, places where the boundary between the mundane and the supernatural wore dangerously thin. One of the forest’s most unnerving sites is the Witches’ Dancefloor, or Tanzflur: an isolated meadow tucked high in the mountains between the towns of Gengenbach and Hornberg. Shaped like a natural amphitheater, the clearing is hidden from prying eyes by a solid wall of trees.

Even outside its rumored “active” season, Tanzflur exerts a deeply unsettling pull on anyone who steps onto it. Travelers report inexplicable phenomena: disorienting auditory hallucinations, echoes that defy the acoustics of open air, and a crushing sense of being watched by something unseen. Deeper in the woods an unnatural, suffocating stillness settles, as though the air itself is alive—absorbing the memories of everyone who passes through.

At the heart of local lore is a curse said to awaken on Walpurgis Night, April 30th into May 1st. Legend holds that witches from all over the region converge here for dark rites. The curse works like this: any passer-by who stumbles into the clearing instantly loses all free will. The ritual’s dark energy seizes mind and body, forcing the victim to join an ecstatic, frenzied dance. It quickly turns into torment; the dancer can’t stop until the first light of dawn breaks the spell—or until heart failure and total exhaustion do.

Understanding Tanzflur’s legend means knowing who these “witches” once were. The German word Hexe traces back to an older term for guardians who patrolled the border between safe settlements and the wild woods. Originally, they were wise women—healers and midwives living in huts on the forest edge. During the witch-hunt era, their knowledge was rebranded as devilry.

In the Haslach-Simonswald woods lived the Gfellhexe, said to transform into plants. When hunters hanged her ghostly hounds, she simply cut them down and revived them with magic.

Farther south, in the village of Hinterzarten, people feared the “Wild Women”—beautiful maidens who lured wanderers deep into the forest, condemning their souls to roam forever in search of home.

From 100 Cursed Places · Fern Flower Press