An Irish Ghost Tale

In my book, "Eagle Quest," the kids are sitting around a campfire, the looming darkness and flickering of the fire made them all a bit edgy. So, of course, they proceeded to tell ghost stories. Fiona is telling this tale and her friends, Hap and Billy, are the audience.

* * *

“This is the story of Bridget who was hired to be the nanny for two kids whose parents died in a horrible accident. Now, this all happened in Ireland way back, so don’t go so why this or why that. It’s just how the story happened, okay?”

The boys nodded solemnly. Fiona usually told pretty good stories, so Billy and Hap were willing to listen without making too much fun.

“Anyway, if you’ll all be quiet, I’ll start.”

The boys settled themselves comfortably. Hap and Billy knew Fiona. This was not going to be a short story.

Fiona cleared her throat and began to tell the tale using her best Irish brogue.

“The uncle hired Bridget to act as a nanny for two children whose parents had died. She was supposed to care for them until he could come to take them.

“The boy had blond hair and blue eyes and the girl had dark hair and brown eyes. They had names that were almost alike. The girl was Frances and the boy Francis.

“The children told Bridget there was one thing they must do every day. They needed to go to the graves of their parents which were a little way away from the house.

“Bridget thought it was fine the children wanted to visit the graves of their dead parents, so she didn’t object. She watched them from a window in the second floor. She saw them stand by the graves and thought they might be praying or even singing a song.

“One day, she told the children the weather was getting too bad and she didn’t want them to go to the graves. The children begged and cried, but Bridget didn’t want them to get sick, so she was strict about it.

“When she went to the children’s room the next day to get them up, the boy who was blond had dark hair and the girl who used to be dark was now blonde.”

Billy interrupted at this point. “Was that magic or what?”

“Can you just sit back and let me tell the story?”

“Sure. Sorry. I won’t say another word.”

Fiona continued, “It startled Bridget, but the children insisted they had always been this way and that Bridget was mistaken to think it was the other way around.

“Still, she decided they were lying and, although she couldn’t figure out why, she took them to the village priest. ‘Father, these children have changed. Look at them!’

“The Priest looked at the children and saw the boy was light and the girl was dark. He said, ‘What should I be seeing, Bridget?’

“Bridget saw the children had changed back to the way they were before. She was worried she was going crazy to make such a mistake.

“They all returned home and Bridget kept the children in her room so she could make sure they didn’t go to the grave. She watched the grave through the second story window.

“She saw a green glow come up from the grave and then the children appeared standing next to it. She turned around and saw the children still in the room asleep. She looked back and the children were gone again and the green glow had faded. But, the next morning, the children had changed again. The boy was dark and the girl was blonde.

“This happened again the next night and Bridget thought she must be going mad. She decided she’d just ignore it and pretend it was a trick of the moonlight on vapors rising out of the ground. Just some innocent thing. As for her seeing the children at the grave when they were in the room, she thought the shadows from the limbs of the tree next to the grave were to blame.

“The next day, she heard the clock chime. Since it chimed every fifteen minutes, hearing it wasn’t unusual, but every little noise made her more afraid.

“Then, she left the children in the room and went down into the hallway where the big grandfather clock stood. It was exactly eight o’clock on the morning of November 21^st. The pendulum on the clock had stopped. Bridget knew that was the exact date and time the children’s parents died one year before.

“She slowly climbed the stairs again and went back into the children’s room. The boy and girl were gone. She looked out the window toward the graves and saw the children standing there. She knew they couldn’t have gone by her when she was in the hallway.

“She felt a chill come into the air. Walking out into the hallway again, she saw a greenish light coming from under the door of the parents’ bedroom, a room that hadn’t been opened since the day they died.

“This was all too much for Bridget and she ran screaming from the house. She ran down the lane to the village. She ran right to the church.

“Gasping for breath, she found the Father in his office and opened her mouth to speak. But nothing came out. She couldn’t make a sound. The priest saw that she was terrified. Her skin was white as chalk and her mouth gaped open as she tried to speak.

“The priest arranged for someone to go watch the children. He brought Bridget to the doctor, but the doctor said she had a disease of the mind, not the body and he couldn’t help her.

“The woman the priest sent to watch the children came back and said they were not at the house. The villagers arranged for search parties, but they couldn’t find them anywhere. The rumors started that Bridget murdered the children and buried them somewhere, but no grave was ever found.

“The village got together and sent Bridget to the Insane Asylum, where she lived out her days unable to speak. All she could do is scream whenever she heard the sound of a chiming clock.”

Fiona stopped and looked around the campfire. “That’s the end of the story,” she said, so the boys would know she was finished.

“Wow. That is a pretty good story, Fiona. It’s one of those old Irish stories, right?”

“Yes, it’s an old Irish tale, but every word is absolutely true.”

The boys laughed, but were a little uneasy when they looked at the looming black trees surrounding them.