This was made just for fun. I used an AI app called Suno. But this is how I feel. So I wanted a platform to share songs that others might feel too. 

Trapped in My Mind

High above the forests near Grangärde (Dalarna, Sweden) ies an old and lonely pasture once called Masen’s Huts. Long ago, farmers from Östanbjörka drove their cattle there. But one night, unlike any other, dark spirits swept through the woods—and the mountain has borne a different name ever since: Bride Mountain.

The tale goes:

A young milkmaid was tending her animals alone when shadows began to move among the trees. Forest spirits emerged from the gloom and took her before she could flee. Enchanted and powerless, she was dressed in a shimmering bridal gown and crowned with glittering silver. At midnight, she was to be wed to a mountain troll.

But someone saw her fate—a loyal dog. In panic, it fled the pasture, racing across bogs and trails to fetch the master in Östanbjörka. Understanding the danger, the man rushed back with the dog, up to the haunted pasture.

There, in the glade, trolls danced in a ring around the entranced girl, singing dark wedding songs with goblets in their twisted hands. Acting quickly, the man grabbed two heavy axes and crossed them over a threshold—steel against sorcery.

A terrible scream rang through the forest. The trolls froze, their magic shattered. Begging for mercy, they vanished like morning mist.

The girl remained—pale, but free. In her hand she held a silver goblet, and on her head, a bridal crown. Through the forest echoed the trolls’ final cry:

"Skada mä brudkrona! Skada mä brudkrona!"
("Spare the bridal crown! Spare the bridal crown!")

Some say the crown rests in Grangärde Church, the goblet in Stora Tuna. Others say the opposite. No one knows for sure. But Bride Mountain still stands, and if you listen closely when the mist drifts through the trees, you might hear the echo of a wedding that never was.


- - - - - - - -
Symphonic Metal Epic – based on the legend of Brudberget

Lyrics:
[Intro – Whispered, mysterious, with ambient forest sounds and low choir]
High above the shadowed trees,
Where birches sigh and pines still grieve,
A tale is carved in mist and stone—
The bride who danced with trolls alone…

[Verse I – Slow, ominous]
Far from the village, in silence she stayed,
A maiden tending beasts by fading day.
Masens Bodar, the old fäbod's name,
Where dusk would fall and call the strange.

But one black night, the woods awoke—
With rustling leaves and voices cloaked.
Through veils of gloom the fae did creep,
To steal her soul in moonless sleep.

[Chorus – Bombastic, with full choir and strings]
Bride of the Mountain, veiled in frost,
Bound in shadow, forever lost!
Silver goblet, cursed crown,
Trolls shall dance and stars fall down!
Midnight rings the silent bell—
Who dares to wake this forest spell?

[Verse II – Faster, more intense]
They dressed her pale in ghostly white,
With crown of thorns that gleamed like light.
Their howls became her wedding song,
A vow to darkness, cruel and long.

But one remained who would not yield—
Her loyal hound, the silent shield.
He tore the path through root and mire,
To fetch the one who'd brave the fire.

[Bridge – Dramatic, chanting choir and orchestral surge]
Steel and spirit, heart of flame,
The master came and called her name.
With axes crossed and thunder cried,
The spell was shattered, trolls denied!

[Chorus – Repeated, heavier guitars and layered vocals]
Bride of the Mountain, veiled in frost,
Bound in shadow, forever lost!
Silver goblet, cursed crown,
Trolls shall dance and stars fall down!
Midnight rings the silent bell—
Who dares to wake this forest spell?

[Verse III – Softer, mournful, reflective]
She stood alone, her face turned pale,
A dream undone, a forest tale.
The crown still glowed, the cup in hand,
Relics of that twilight land.

[Outro – Fading, mystical female vocals and whispers]
Some say the crown still rests in grace,
In Grangärde’s sacred, silent place…
But if the fog should stroke your skin,
Beware the vow that waits within...

[Final Echo – Male and female whisper, fading]
"Skada mä brudkrona… skada mä brudkrona…"

The Bride of the mountain trolls

The true story about Sol-Lisa (part two):
On a cold winter day in 1777, Lisa Gezelius gave birth in secret. Alone and terrified, she wrapped her hand around her newborn son's neck and slowly squeezed. The infant's breaths faded until silence remained.

When her mother Catharina returned, Lisa claimed the child was ill. But it was too late — the boy was dead. Catharina took the body, wrapped it in rags, and hid it, moving it from place to place to avoid discovery.

Lisa returned home days later, visibly thinner. Her mother-in-law suspected pregnancy, but Lisa claimed a miscarriage. She believed the secret was safe — the child gone, the shame buried.

But rumors spread. Servants whispered of her swelling belly. The story reached the district judge, Johan Welin, who ordered an investigation. Lisa, her sister Stina, and mother Catharina were brought in for questioning.

Under pressure, Lisa confessed. The child had been born alive and strong — but she had ended its life. Her mother had helped conceal the truth, and the baby’s body was found hidden in a nearby barn. An autopsy confirmed the child was healthy, and signs of strangulation were clear.

Lisa was charged with concealing her pregnancy and murdering her illegitimate child. Her mother was charged with aiding the crime, and her sister with helping cover it up. Lisa’s husband, Carl Gezelius, begged the court for mercy, swearing they had lived happily in marriage — but the law showed no leniency.

Lisa was sentenced to death: beheading followed by burning at the stake. Her mother’s sentence was later reduced, her sister was freed, and the child’s father, Jan Ersson, received only a small fine.

Carl is said to have fallen to his knees before King Gustav III, pleading for his wife’s life. The king refused, declaring: "The crime too grave, the law too strict."

On November 1, 1777, Lisa Gezelius, only 22 years old, was executed near Högberget — dressed in white like a bride, forever remembered as "The Child Murderess."

As she walked to her death, the words from the courtroom wall echoed in her mind:
"He who does evil shall suffer evil."

Sol-Lisa - Part 2 - The Child Murderess

The true story about Magdalena’s Mire

Magdalena’s Mire lies long and narrow, veiled in mist beside the road between Svartviken and Lilla Kumlan. Long ago, a lady from Stockholm passed through with her daughter, dressed in shining silks and colorful shawls, accompanied by her loyal dog and proud horse.

That night, she unknowingly camped near the man who would become her killer. Blinded by greed, he believed her possessions held great wealth—unaware her money had already been sent ahead to Stockholm.

At dawn, as she prepared to leave, he struck. First, the dog fell to the axe, then the horse. The lady screamed once before silence took her. Her little daughter, crying in fear, offered her doll to the man, begging for mercy. But lost in darkness, he killed her too.

There was no treasure—only death. He buried the bodies near a stone cairn and tried to mask the smell with the blood of a slaughtered calf. The animals were sunk into the mire.

Years passed, but the truth could not stay buried. Justice caught up with him, and he was executed in Örebro. His family tried to help him escape death by smuggling glass-laced cheese into the prison, but their plot failed.

Still today, by the cairn, a spruce tree grows—cut down twice, but always rising again. Ferns curl around its base like a wreath on a secret grave. When the wind whispers through the branches, it carries the echo of a child’s voice, a final plea, and footsteps that never reached home.

A place of memory, sorrow, and silence.
The name on the wooden sign reads: “Magdalena’s Mire.”

Magdalena's Mire

The true story about The Tragedy of Brudbacken

It happened long ago, sometime in the 1800s.
A bride and groom traveled by horse and carriage, adorned with birch leaves and flowers, on their way to the church in Dala-Floda to exchange vows before God.

They sat close, hands intertwined, hearts full of love and laughter. Behind them lay the home they had left; ahead, a shared future awaited. By nightfall, they would return as husband and wife.

But fate is fickle, and life as fragile as autumn leaves.

As the carriage climbed a hill near Lake Håjen, a sudden gust tore through the forest. With a crack and thunderous crash, a great pine fell—straight onto the wagon. In an instant, joy turned to silence.

The bride was still, her life taken by the fallen tree. The groom, left alone, held her warm hand and watched their dreams fade with the evening light.

They never reached the church. Never spoke their vows.
Their journey ended in that quiet forest.

Since then, the hill has borne a sorrowful name—Brudbacken, The Bride’s Hill.
Once, travelers left branches there in mourning, but now only a small sign remains. Still, the wind whispers through the trees, telling of a love that never bloomed, and laughter that was silenced forever.

And if you pass this way—stop. Listen.
Remember those whose happiness vanished in a single moment.
And when you go—hold your loved ones close.
Live. No one knows what waits beyond the next hill.



The Bride Beneath the Pine - The Tragedy of Brudbacken

This true story likely took place in the early 1800s—perhaps even earlier.
The manor (set in Dalarna, Sweden) was ruled by a stern ironworks master and his merciless wife. In preparation for a grand celebration, servants worked day and night under the strict hand of the mistress.

In one of the cottages, young maids brewed beer—a grueling task that wore them down.
One of them, exhausted, stepped outside for a moment and stumbled toward the outhouse.
Time passed, but she didn’t return. The irritated mistress found her asleep, slumped in fatigue.

In a fit of rage, the mistress struck the maid in the head with a heavy iron key—killing her instantly. The key was thrown away and lost for years.

The maid was buried a few hundred meters from the house, beside an old country road now overgrown and forgotten. The grave lies on a small hill called Robacken, marked only by a few simple stones. Peaceful, yet unsettling.

Some say the maid had become pregnant, and that was the true cause of her death.
But no one knows for sure. Was the mistress ever punished? Did anyone even learn of the crime?

What we do know is this:
In the silent woods, beside a vanished road, lies the forgotten victim of what became known as The Key-Slaying.

The manor stood abandoned for years. Today it looks peaceful—restored, with horses grazing under the sun. But beneath the surface lingers a darker past—
The tale of a murdered maid, her name long lost to time.

And today, just today—we remember her.
Do not forget her.

The Key and the Silent Grave - The Key-Slaying at Robacken

Tilda, 48, lived a quiet life in a small cottage i Klenshyttan with her twin sons, Knut and Erik, both 23. Known in the village as a hard-working woman, she and her sons were respected and decent folk. But in recent months, something had changed. Tilda’s behavior grew erratic—her once steady mind now clouded by darkness.

Rumors said it began after she attended a religious meeting in Blötberget. She arrived disoriented, disturbed the gathering, and had to be driven home. After that, she often spoke of sin and death, claiming she was damned and deserved to die.

Her sons grew worried. They considered sending her to a rest home, but never did. Then came the night when death descended.

Knut awoke to hushed voices. In the kitchen, he found his mother and brother sitting silently. On the floor—an axe, a bottle of gasoline, and a rope. Tilda gave a chilling reply when asked about it: “What does it matter with this old house?”

The sons persuaded her to abandon her plan, and Erik hid the items. But Knut couldn’t sleep—fear gnawed at him. What was their mother truly capable of?

The next morning, all seemed normal. Tilda made breakfast and packed Knut’s lunch. He left early for his shift at the Blötberget mine, unaware of the horror to come.

That afternoon, he returned home. The cottage was locked. No answer. A chilling silence hung over the place. With the help of a neighbor, Johan, he forced the door open.

Inside was a scene of horror:
Tilda, hanging lifeless in the kitchen.
Erik, collapsed in blood, his head gashed by the blunt end of an axe.

Tilda had struck her son—twice—then taken her own life.

Miraculously, Erik was still alive. He was rushed to the hospital in critical condition—but survived. Knut never left his side, shattered by grief. As for Tilda, her end came there in that quiet house. What drove her to such madness—we’ll never know. Was it the sermon that broke her spirit? Or had her soul long been swallowed by the blackest dark?

The Silent Axe - The Tragedy of Tilda

[Orchestral Intro – Strings, Choir, Forest Winds]
Whispers rise in the shadow of pines...
Thunder drums echo from mountain walls...

Verse I (Clean vocals – Male/Female duet)
In the vast and ancient woods of Dalarna’s land,
Where the fir trees whisper in eternal stand,
They came as shadows with fire in their veins,
With dreams in their hearts, through snow and rain.

They cleared a glade in the silent gloom,
Burned the earth beneath the moon.
From ashes rose the trembling seed,
Fed by sorrow, forged by need.

Chorus (Choir + Lead vocals)
Ash and iron, stone and flame,
They carved a home, they bore no name.
In the wild they stood, in storms they swore,
Their blood became the forest’s lore.
Their legacy lives, it shall remain,
In every echo, every flame.

Verse II (Harsh vocals + clean contrast)
Axes fell where the marshes weep,
They bled and built, no time for sleep.
Through barren soil and jagged stone,
They claimed the land, they stood alone.

Their children ran with blueberry mouths,
Barefoot cries in the cold, wild south.
But hunger came with winter's breath,
And snow fell silent as whispered death.

Bridge (Orchestral rise – strings & brass)
The wind howled down from the mountains high,
Where ravens watched and spirits fly.
Still they fought, through iron nights,
With glowing hearths and embered rites.

Verse III (Balladic clean vocal, soft piano beneath)
In cabins poor, so rough and grey,
They watched the iron melt away.
The forges burned through dusk and fear,
Their dreams dissolved in sweat and tears.

But oh, those hills in the twilight blue,
Gave strength anew, gave courage too.
The heath, the hills, the endless sky,
Became their oath – to live, not die.

Chorus II (Full band, epic)
Ash and iron, stone and flame,
They forged a soul, they earned their name.
Through bitter winds and ruthless strife,
They sang the storm and birthed new life.
Their legacy lives, it shall remain,
In every echo, every flame.

Instrumental (Symphonic solo – Strings, French horns, choir, guitars)
A cinematic sweep through misty valleys and mountain peaks. Hints of old folk melodies twist into distorted guitar leads. Thunder breaks as the forge hammer falls…

Verse IV (Whispered vocals rising to full power)
Now the forest speaks their tale,
Of hearts that broke but did not fail.
Through winds that dance and trees that sigh,
Their voices lift into the sky.

Final Chorus (Choir, clean vocals, harsh backing)
Ash and iron, dust and bone,
They made this wildland all their own.
So heed their song, you who pass by,
Where rivers run and falcons cry.
They live in wind, in stone, in flame,
And in your blood burns still... their name.

[Outro – Soft orchestral fade, wind in trees]
So walk the path where they once tread,
Their song remains, though they are dead.
In every breeze, in every pine,
Their strength and soul forever shine...

Ash and Iron - A hymn to the Forest Finnish settlers in Dalarna

The Narrow Bridge of Gonäs
 An epic symphonic metal tragedy based on real events – Sweden, 1949

On a quiet summer afternoon, June 15th, 1949, a devastating collision between a bus and a timber truck shook the small Swedish village of Gonäs. What was meant to be a peaceful journey for beloved schoolteacher Axel Dohlwitz and others turned into a scene of chaos, sorrow, and irreversible loss. Four lives were claimed – including a heroic young driver who, despite his own mortal injuries, ensured the safety of his passengers first.

This song is a tribute to them.
To the lives lost.
To the voices crying out on the narrow bridge.
To the questions that still echo through time.

Dark, orchestral, and intense – blending cinematic atmosphere with crushing guitars, haunting choirs, and raw emotion.

Vocals | Guitars | Orchestration | Lyrics: Johannes Hällegrim
Based on the historical Gonäs bus crash, Sweden, 1949.

#SymphonicMetal #HistoricalMetal #Gonäs #SwedishTragedy #MetalStorytelling #EpicMetal #TrueEvent

The Narrow Bridge - The Tragic Bus Accident in Gonäs 1949

Step into the shadowed forests of 17th-century Sweden, where whispers became weapons and innocent women were dragged before the courts as witches.  This epic symphonic metal track is inspired by the harrowing witch trials of 1675 in Bygdeå socken, where Ingeborg Andersdotter and her daughters stood accused of leading children to the mythical Blåkulla. Their story, torn between hysteria and truth, unfolds through crushing guitars, haunting choirs, and sweeping orchestral arrangements.  Based on historical court records and testimonies.

Ingeborg Andersdotter - The Witches of Flarken

I am using Suno to put together songs. And I want a place to put songs that I enjoy. Or that's how I feel. So I am going to post them here. I like to listen to others here.

New tracks tagged #ai-made