‘Nick’ the Ould Devil.....
The Town Hall clock
struck midnight. Bong, bong, bong it rang: twelve times, slowly but surely
whilst I, a young boy of six years of age lay in bed with a runny nose and sore
throat.
The year was late 1946 back home in Ireland and World War Two had been over a mere eleven months. My two brothers, one year and two years older than I, slept peacefully in the same bed that we shared. Suddenly the street lighting outside our bedroom window switched off leaving the room shrouded in complete darkness.
I said some prayers and tried to sleep but none came. A full-moon appeared briefly from behind some clouds spreading an eerie light into the room but disappeared just as quickly as it arrived. I was left in total darkness for most of the time...........
I quietly left the bed and knelt looking out the small window which overlooked part of Main Street. It was as quiet as a tomb with no movement. Occasionally, that is when the moon appeared, I could make out the water fountain and horse trough outside the front of the town hall. The large shadowy granite figure on the plinth of what I learned many years later was a Wyvern from the local Lord Meath’s family crest, glistened in the same light from time to time. It was carved in the shape of a large Dragon holding a shield. He was known by the locals as ‘Old Nick’ – the Devil.
The year was late 1946 back home in Ireland and World War Two had been over a mere eleven months. My two brothers, one year and two years older than I, slept peacefully in the same bed that we shared. Suddenly the street lighting outside our bedroom window switched off leaving the room shrouded in complete darkness.
I said some prayers and tried to sleep but none came. A full-moon appeared briefly from behind some clouds spreading an eerie light into the room but disappeared just as quickly as it arrived. I was left in total darkness for most of the time...........
I quietly left the bed and knelt looking out the small window which overlooked part of Main Street. It was as quiet as a tomb with no movement. Occasionally, that is when the moon appeared, I could make out the water fountain and horse trough outside the front of the town hall. The large shadowy granite figure on the plinth of what I learned many years later was a Wyvern from the local Lord Meath’s family crest, glistened in the same light from time to time. It was carved in the shape of a large Dragon holding a shield. He was known by the locals as ‘Old Nick’ – the Devil.
For
some unknown reason I could not take my eyes off the statue for it appeared to
me that it was turning its head towards our house from time to time.
After watching for about half-an-hour or so, I ran back to the bed and hid
under the covers.
As I was too warm under the covers, I took my head from under them to find that the full-moon was now filling the room with an eerie light. My curiosity battled with my fears and as my curiosity won, I again made my way towards the window and looked out.
I was frightened as I saw that the statue was no longer on its plinth and believe me or not, but I swear it is true, Old Nick was walking around the fountain, shaking his fist towards our house. As the window was partly closed I could not make out what ‘he’ was saying but I am positive that ‘he’ was shouting. This time I ran to the bed, jumped in and hid under the covers determined not to come out again until called the next morning by my mother.
All night, all I could hear was the wailing and howling of neighbourhood dogs as if something or ‘someone’ was worrying them.
Bright and early next morning, my mother shook me and told me that it was my turn to collect the milk from the nearby dairy. To get there I would have to pass – not too closely – the fountain.
As I made my way down Main Street I saw two men and a woman standing on the base of the fountain in deep discussion. Feeling no fear due to their presence I crossed to the centre of the road and watched and listened as they spoke.
One man seemed to be speaking on behalf of the others. “Blinking strange goings on last night alright” he said “strange things indeed”. “Will you look at the footprints” the woman spoke quietly.
Of course I looked and closely at that. There had been no rain all night and the surrounding street and pavements were bone dry. However, around the base of the fountain were the footprints, or should I say, the hoof prints of what looked like those of a large goat. They were everywhere.........
As the woman made the sign of the cross, I joined her and literally ran to the dairy and got our milk. When I returned home, I did not mention what I had just seen but more importantly, what I had seen and heard during the night.
My mother would probably have given me a swipe of the dishcloth around the ears for talking about ghosts, ghouls and devils. After all, there was only one ghost and that was ‘God the Holy Ghost’ according to the priest...................
Incidentally, I never dressed up on Halloween that was coming up in a few weeks time and never left the house. When my mother asked I merely said that my throat was still sore with my runny nose. When I saw my brother’s version of Nick the Devil on Halloween night, I almost told him that he looked nothing like the real thing but held my breath and said not a single word.......................
As I was too warm under the covers, I took my head from under them to find that the full-moon was now filling the room with an eerie light. My curiosity battled with my fears and as my curiosity won, I again made my way towards the window and looked out.
I was frightened as I saw that the statue was no longer on its plinth and believe me or not, but I swear it is true, Old Nick was walking around the fountain, shaking his fist towards our house. As the window was partly closed I could not make out what ‘he’ was saying but I am positive that ‘he’ was shouting. This time I ran to the bed, jumped in and hid under the covers determined not to come out again until called the next morning by my mother.
All night, all I could hear was the wailing and howling of neighbourhood dogs as if something or ‘someone’ was worrying them.
Bright and early next morning, my mother shook me and told me that it was my turn to collect the milk from the nearby dairy. To get there I would have to pass – not too closely – the fountain.
As I made my way down Main Street I saw two men and a woman standing on the base of the fountain in deep discussion. Feeling no fear due to their presence I crossed to the centre of the road and watched and listened as they spoke.
One man seemed to be speaking on behalf of the others. “Blinking strange goings on last night alright” he said “strange things indeed”. “Will you look at the footprints” the woman spoke quietly.
Of course I looked and closely at that. There had been no rain all night and the surrounding street and pavements were bone dry. However, around the base of the fountain were the footprints, or should I say, the hoof prints of what looked like those of a large goat. They were everywhere.........
As the woman made the sign of the cross, I joined her and literally ran to the dairy and got our milk. When I returned home, I did not mention what I had just seen but more importantly, what I had seen and heard during the night.
My mother would probably have given me a swipe of the dishcloth around the ears for talking about ghosts, ghouls and devils. After all, there was only one ghost and that was ‘God the Holy Ghost’ according to the priest...................
Incidentally, I never dressed up on Halloween that was coming up in a few weeks time and never left the house. When my mother asked I merely said that my throat was still sore with my runny nose. When I saw my brother’s version of Nick the Devil on Halloween night, I almost told him that he looked nothing like the real thing but held my breath and said not a single word.......................
-------------------------------
No comments:
Post a Comment