This venture is an experiment to see if anyone likes these kinds of stories. I have more, if there’s an interest. If you don’t like stories like this, let it go and I’ll be back with my regular podcast next Wednesday for those who would rather I talk and write about what’s going on in the world. If you do like it, let me know.
Fáilte
Welcome to The Village Oak Tree
I am your seanchaí, Terrance Ó Domhnaill.
Thank you for joining me.
Today, I'm going to start reading a short story I wrote a couple of years ago. I will break it down into short bits so the written portion fits on your mobiles and give it to you over the next couple of weekends. If people tell me they like this sort of thing now and again, I'll do it again sometime. I have a few other stories I've written, plus some of the olde ones that I can bring to the village oak tree to tell.
So, gather round, sit you down somewhere comfortable for a bit and let me tell you the story of Sean Murphy and The Púka of Log na Coille.
Sean Murphy, Big Murph as his mates called him in the local pub, was a big man, both in size and temperament, he always had been. And he knew it too. He never had a problem pushing himself around the town trying to be the big man and being well liked by all of his neighbors and mates.
He was a noted hiker and loved to hike up on Log na Coille or Lug Mountain as the tourists called it, from where he lived in the little town of Cnoc an Aragain (Knocknarrigan). He would go up for hours at a time looking for lost treasures left by the tourists and the legend of Sidhe treasure whenever he had free time. Truth be told, he was more interested in finding the Sidhe treasure that was supposed to be on this mountain, according to the old stories.
Tourists rarely left anything of real value but he would always take a small bag because, as he would tell his mates over a pint, “You never know what you might find up there someday”. He knew the towns people thought he was a bit touched in the head over his obsession with finding any Sidhe treasure but he wasn’t afraid of anyone and he would tell them so after he’d downed a pint or two. No one dared to come right out and say it to his face as he would threaten them with a thrashing if they did.
Despite the snickering and remarks behind his back, he continued his trips up the mountain to see what he could find. When he was younger, he would brag to any and all about how he was going to find the Sidhe gold someday and show them all he was right. As he never found anything through the years, he eventually stopped talking about it in the pub. He knew everyone was making fun of him but he just knew it was only a matter of time. He told himself he mustn’t give up the quest.
By now, he was starting to get a little on in years and his little shop was doing well enough for him to get by comfortably these days. The fever to find a rich hoard of Sidhe gold wasn’t as strong as it was in his more adventurous younger days. Nowadays, he continued to scavenge the tourist trails, looking for lost items like the occasional gold bracelet or other small treasures, all lost by the many tourists who climbed the trail around the mountain. What little he found, he would take to the local lost and found in the town and if no one claimed it within a certain time, he’d pawn it off and drink the money up at the pub.
He usually went up the mountain late in the afternoons on the weekends, after most of the tourists had left the park. Lug mountain was not a place to be wandering the trails after dark though. There were the usual dangers of the fog and rain at the top and in the valleys around. Then, there were all of the legends of the Fae who were supposed to be out and about in the more rugged areas off the marked trails.
This is where Big Murph liked to go after he had scavenged the tourist trails. Especially if he didn’t find anything of value around the tourist trails. He had lived in Cnoc an Aragain all of his life and he knew all of the stories. He also knew that despite the legends, the mountain could be dangerous all on its own. There were rocky cliffs and hard walking off the trails where a man could make a wrong turn or trip on a rock and it would be over before anyone could find him.
On this particular Saturday, he waited until late afternoon, as he was wont to do, before setting out on the main trail from town. He’d been this way so many times since his youth, he could hike it blindfolded. Not that he would. Despite his familiarity, there were too many things that could happen without warning, such as the weather, and it didn’t pay to take chances or take anything for granted.
While he walked up the familiar trail, he would tip his hat to the tourists. It paid to be nice as they provided the town a nice revenue stream from their tourism. His little shop being one of the beneficiaries of that money. Sean Murphy’s shop sold metal trinkets that he made himself out in a little shop in the back of his store. There were little metal bracelets and necklaces for the ladies, window chimes, and other tourist knickknacks made in the shapes of the wee folk of the stories. He found out years ago that superstition sells and, although it took a little while, he was now selling enough to make a decent living.
He whistled a little ditty as he headed up the mountain this day and with the sun warming his back as it settled in the afternoon sky, he felt pretty good. “A good day for a hike with me bag over my shoulder,” he thought.
As it was starting to get close to sundown, he noticed that the tourists had pretty much all left the trails for the day. There were still one or two stragglers but they were headed down as well. He was the only one going up. “Good, now I can have the mountain to meself,” he says to no one in particular.
He hiked up to his usual spot on the trail, which was a lookout place where the tourists could look out across the valley and enjoy the view. This was usually where he set up his metal detector kit to start looking for lost valuables. Once he had everything ready, he would start walking back and forth over the sides of the trails to see if someone dropped something or anything else he found of an unusual nature.
As he started out this afternoon, he just did his usual sweeps without thinking, out of habit more than anything else. While walking through the heather on each side of the trail, he started thinking again about the stories of Sidhe treasures that were supposedly somewhere up on this mountain.
There have been stories about this treasure horde being guarded by the Sidhe going back as far as anyone could remember. Big Murph always wanted to be the one to find the fabled treasure so he could be the local hero.
While he walked around looking for lost items this evening just before twilight, he thought he saw something move just out of eye sight. Just a hint of movement for a brief moment off to the right side of the trail ahead. He stopped and stood in the trail in order to focus a little more at where he thought he saw the movement. He stood looking out over the open heather for a couple of minutes but he didn’t see anything so he chalked it up to imagination.
He continued his sweep of the trails and noticed the clouds starting to move in over the southern horizon. Sean watched to see if they were going to come in fast. He didn’t want to get caught up here in a downpour. The nearest place to get out of the weather was over a half hour away towards the top of the mountain.
Sean knew of a rocky outcropping that would give him some marginal shelter from a rain storm but he was too far away yet to be able to make it ahead of a fast-moving thunderstorm. As he watched, the clouds seem to be moving very slowly so he determined that it would likely be raining on the morrow. If he was going to find anything this weekend, it would have to be tonight.
Sean was a little uncomfortable being on the mountain after dark but he had his torch with him so he wasn’t too awfully worried. Since the trails were well worn and marked with signs, he knew he could find his way back to town with little trouble after dark. He had hiked these trails for years and knew them all too well.
Sean continued scanning the sides of the trails. So far, he was not finding anything of value tonight. Just after sundown, with just a sliver of sunlight on the horizon, Sean thought he saw movement in the meadow off to the right again. Once again, he stopped and looked to see if there was something there.
This time he pulled out his torch and started shining it around to see if he could find whatever was moving around out there. Again, nothing. Sean was starting to get a little anxious. He normally didn’t scare too easily but a chance meeting with one of the Sidhe here on the mountain, in the dark, made him nervous. They were very dangerous, according to the old stories, and Sean was no match for their Fae magic. He didn’t want to get taken away, as they were supposed to do, into one of the Sidhe mounds, never to be seen again.
Sean decided that he should pack it up. He was too nervous and had lost the mood to continue his search for trinkets and gold. As he kneeled down to start putting everything away, he heard a sound like someone clearing their throat. He looked up and saw a horse with blazing red eyes, a coat as dark as coal, and a mane that was blowing in the breeze, when there was no breeze, standing on the trail in front of him. The horse said, “tráthnóna maith (tranona maa) (good evening).”
Sean started with his eyes going wide as saucers. He knew what this was and wanted no part of it. This had to be a púka, a trickster sprit of the mountain. The púka stared at him and asked him in the Gael, “What’re you doing up here so late in the day?” Sean, even though having grown up speaking Irish as a first language, had to think for a minute before answering as it had been a while since he’d talked to anyone in Gaeilge.
Sean gathered his wits and explained to the púka, “I’ve been looking for treasures left behind by the tourists but I was just leaving for the night,” and tried to excuse himself. He hoped the púka would take the hint and leave him be. Not so. He told Sean, “I know where the Sidhe keep some of their treasures and I can lead you to it, if you want?”
Now Sean, being very anxious at the moment, wasn’t sure he understood the púka right. He asked him to say that again, slower this time. The púka cocked his head and looked at Sean as if to say, are you deaf or something? He repeated himself with a little annoyance in his voice and Sean quietly thought it over for a bit.
Sean knew all about how púka’s liked to trick people for their own pleasure and he wasn’t in the mood to play games with the fae, with himself being alone out here after dark. But he worried that if he tried to just brush him off, something bad might happen and he certainly didn’t want that. Better to play the game to see where it leads. He reasoned that the worst thing that could happen would be a night out in the dark talking to a púka.
That’s the end of part 1 for this weekend. If you like this story so far, let me know in the comments.
I also want to dedicate this new weekend story adventure to my fiction writing friends here on Substack, Kathrine Elaine, ReddOscarwrites, Shadows and Space, Stone, Soil and Soul and Crann na beatha, who have inspired me to post some stories of my own to see if anyone likes them.
Thank you for joining me here and I will be back next week with more. Sláinte
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