Jumbi

And by day a jumbi wears a false human skin and passes as a neighbor — which supplies the counter-measure: find the shed skin at night, rub it with salt so it shrivels, and the returning creature, unable to fit inside it, perishes in the daylight.

Jumbies can be good as well as evil, and they are not creatures of the deep bush only — they frequent the dark patches of town where the streetlights fail, and hover at windows, peering in after prey; the standing advice never to throw water out a window exists because a wet jumbi is a uniquely vengeful one.

In its most familiar form the jumbi is seen as a glowing, spectral ball of light flying through the night sky, hunting those who travel alone and children, whose blood it drains; it also rides sleepers in the manner of the incubus, taking life and vitality rather than blood.

Their flight follows continuous ground: they cannot cross water, pass over a hole, or launch from a cliff.