Strange
Goings-on............
“Hould
yar whisht now” Granddad
Gorman broke the sleepy silence as we all sat around the turf
fire feeling drowsy after our evening meal and
before we went to bed. He jumped up from his chair and almost
ran to the little window that looked out onto the
road. Although I was only seven or eight at the time I
realised that he was frightened as he looked a bundle of
nerves. I also saw Granny
Gorman drop her knitting and take up her Rosary Beads.
We, that is, my brothers Ger and Jackie, were ‘down the country’ back
home in Ireland for
a short holiday late in the year 1948. I loved it there
but without even radio and certainly no electricity in the village, the dark
early winter evenings of October left us with little to do a lot of the
time. Some nights Uncle
Mick and Uncle
Jack would read us something from one of the many books that
lay on the shelf but I much preferred to hear their stories. Although many were gruesome and
horrible and regularly gave me nightmares, I still loved to hear
them..............
“What’s wrong Granny?” I
asked. “Shush
now Michael, your Granddad will tell you all in good time” she
spoke softly and quietly. Granddad continued to look out
the small window, then turned and said to us, in particular Granny – “Tis the damn Dullahan that will
surely bring bad news upon the village”. He
made the sign of the
cross which only succeeded in making me more nervous.
Twice more in the next
ten or fifteen minutes, the noise got louder then faded
away. I am almost certain that I heard a scream or two from
some distance away. Apart
from that you could have heard a pin drop................
Eventually Granddad returned
to his seat near the fire and all was as quiet as a
tomb. “Go
on Granddad” Jackie coaxed “tell
us about the Dulli or whatever you called it. Is it a
ghost or are you just pretending?” Jackie was a
disbelieving little so-and-so and would in fact if he had been dared to do so,
gone outside and shook hands with the devil himself. He began to snigger............
“Laugh?” Granddad
asked “so you think the
Dullahan is a figment of me imagination do you? Well let me
tell you that one of these dark nights you will as sure as hell meet up with
the blackguard himself and I can tell you that he will soon wipe that smile off
your face”. I thought that Granddad was more
than a little annoyed with Jackie.
“Tell me Granddad” I spoke
softly from my little perch on the hob close to the fire, “I’ll believe
you”. “You’re alright Mick” he spoke softly
to me “but them that
mock the spirits come to a sticky end in the long run. You
mark my words”.........
Granddad went through
the usual rigmarole that I knew only too well when he was about to tell us a
story. He slowly took out his pipe, filled it with tobacco and
as he lit it, he puffed away gently, blowing the smoke towards the fire.
“You see” he said “in the old Gaelic, he is called the
‘Gan Ceann’. Now tell me, who knows what that means in
Irish?” Ger and Jackie made no reply but I
knew what ‘ceann’ meant. I
said “Something ‘head’,
Granddad”. “Excellent Mick, I knew these two amadans couldn’t hold a
light to you. You are quite right, it does mean ‘head’ and ‘gan’
means ‘without’”. As he finished speaking I
suddenly had the vision forming in my little head of something,or worse still,someone
without a head.
As I may have said often
before, Granddad had the ability of reading my mind like an open
book. “Yes
indeed Mick, a most fearsome man without a head. Now when I
say without a head, that’s not quite true. He carries his ugly
ould head under his arm. Two great big shining eyes and
a grin on his face that would frighten the devil himself. You see it
goes from ear to ear”. He paused for a moment and
puffed away with his pipe as if waiting for this information to sink
in. Jackie again sniggered.
“Oh yes you little brat”
Granddad said slightly annoyed at him “and
he carries a whip made of bone. You know that bone that
runs down your back from your head to your
backside? Well that is what’s called your spine and his
whip is made up of a human spine”. Again he
paused for effect..............
“He always has a big black horse that
pulls a wagon and guess what?” he asked. “No” I replied afraid to
guess anything at this stage. “Well now” he continued “the spokes of the wheels are made of
human leg bones and dried human skin covers the wagon. Now
Jackie me boy, how to you fancy meeting him on a dark night?”
This time Jackie did not
snigger. Granddad continued. “As long as you can hear the wagon
wheels crunching on the road you are safe for as soon as he stops he claims a
body from close by. Makes not a hape-worth of difference
whether it is a live or dead person, he claims him and takes him
away. The only thing is that if the person is still alive, the
Dullaham calls out that person’s name and good God Almighty but that same
person there and then drops dead at the mention of his or her name”.
“If you
say your prayers Granddad” I asked quietly “does he leave you alone?” “Not a chance
Mick. When the old devil puts his mark on you, sure you are a
certain gonner. All the prayers in the world won’t save
you. Your only hope is that you died in the state of grace
cause then he won’t be able to get you into hell and you will find yourself at
the gates of Heaven”. As he said all this,
he put his right index finger to his lips and nodded towards Jackie who was
staring into the fire. Granddad then,
believe it or not winked at me.................
Now usually at this
stage of one of Granddad’s horror stories I would have a hard time not peeing
in my pants but I was now immediately relieved in a more sensible
meaning. I
kept a straight face and winked back at him............................
“And
another thing Jackie” he continued, now speaking directly to my brother, “there is no use trying to block his
way for you know what. The blackguard will only throw a bucket
of blood on you marking you for his next victim. Either that
or he whips your eyes out with his spine whip”. I
could see that Jackie was now cowering closer and closer to Granny and I gave
another crafty wink to Granddad.
“So how do you stop him Granddad?”
I asked. “Only
the one way Mick” he replied “and
that is to always carry something made of real gold. Do
you have any gold Jackie?” he asked. “No Granddad” he whispered
in reply “but I will
save up all my pennies until I can buy some”. “Good” said Granddad “because you never know the day or the
time that you will meet him be it in the dark or during broad
daylight. And another thing” he said “don’t make jokes about such people or
one of them might come for you much earlier than you expect”. I
could see that this warning brought tears to Jackie’s eyes.
A few minutes later,
Granddad opened the front door and stood outside in the
dark. I joined him but neither of us spoke for a couple of
minutes. I started off by saying to him “That was a good one Granddad; you frightened
the daylights out of Jackie. I am glad that it was not true”.
“Not true?” Granddad said
loudly “how dare you suggest
that I would tell you a lie. The whole story from start to
finish is as true as I am standing here beside you. What on earth
makes you think it was not true?” he
asked. “But
you winked at me when you were telling it” I
protested. “Winked?”
he said “sure wasn’t it
just a bit of dust from the fire that got into me eye and I never did it on
purpose”. I now moved back towards the light
of the doorway.
“You
mark my words young Michael. The Dullahan is the real thing
and I hope to God that it is many a year before you hear the grinding sound of
those wheels and the noise of horse’s hooves outside your very own
door. For as sure as eggs is eggs, it will bring sadness and
misfortune to you and yours”........................
So – that was my
introduction to the Dullahan and
you know something? I believe every word of
it. Hopefully please God, I have a few more years before
I hear the sound of strange wagons and horses in our road on the outskirts
of London for
I can assure you that it would be an awesome sight and frighten the life out of
half the neighbourhood...........
-------------------------
(The Dullahan
is truly a character in ancient Irish storytelling. The more
horrible
and
frightening the storyteller makes his tale the more respected he becomes.
Over
the years, the story has travelled far and wide and is believed to have
inspired the screenwriting of the film The
Legend of Sleepy Hollow’).
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