Patrick surveyed the hedgerows as he proceeded onwards; he glanced up at the violent storm-tossed sky and prayed a silent prayer for any poor soul at sea on a night such as this.

A hundred yards to his front, on the right hand side of the road was the laneway leading up to his neighbour’s cottage. Patrick could make out the cottage at the top of the hill: he could see the old beech tree beside the little building, the tree straining against the tempest wind, struggling relentlessly with nature. Patrick thought of the two young sisters who lived there, no doubt safely tucked up in bed, as they should be at this hour of night. To be out late on a night such as this was only for an old fool like himself.

Patrick’s thoughts turned to the girls’ mother Annie.

“Poor widowed Annie,” he pondered, “she died only last year leaving her two teenage daughters to fend for themselves, but with the grace of God and the help of all their good neighbours, those two young lassies should be all right.”

Further along the road on the left hand side just past the end of the lane leading up to the girls’ cottage was the old McKenna dwelling.  It was ramshackle old place, long since deserted; it stood now, sad and forlorn with sagging roof and crumbling walls. The empty window apertures gazed with sightless eyes onto a harsh, unforgiving world.  An old front door creaked and banged as its seized and rusted hinges fought a relentless battle against the storm.

Many a haunted story emanated from that abandoned wreck of a building; in fact most folk wouldn’t approach it at night.  It was said that years ago old McKenna cruelly murdered his wife and young daughter with an axe there before finally hanging himself.  The two women were buried in a nearby churchyard, but the local priest refused to bury the body of McKenna on consecrated ground The remains of old McKenna were instead incarcerated in a salt marsh near Newry. The story had it that the priest said to the undertaker and driver of the horse drawn hearse,

“When you put the whip to those horses don’t let them stop until you get to the marshes, because if you do, then they will never start again! There is evil in that corpse and those horses know it.”

... more to follow ...