Faerie Shenanigans?

Bob has been a regular contributor here at Encounters with the Good People: generously sharing his own experiences and interaction with the Faerie in several posts, most notably Tommyknockers and Butterflies.

Bob is one of those unique people who have a knack when it comes to Faerie. His mind is open and welcoming to to their presence, but also wise to their unpredictability! Here, Bob shares more strange interactions with the Good People he has experienced over the years, and offers personal insights into what they have taught him about the nature of the Good People. I hope you enjoy reading Bob’s curious experiences as much as I do.

Cheers, Kitty.

***

arthur rackham i think
by Arthur Rackham.

Those of the spirit world, including the Good People,  can and do interact with the physical world and it’s inhabitants, in ways that can be benign or malevolent, helpful or just plain mean spirited.

There are many tales about such incidents, but here are some from personal experience.

A common sort of interaction seems to be pranks done for the amusement of the prankster. For example, have you ever been tripped suddenly, yet could not find anything that may have tripped you?

ida rentoul outhwaite trip
by Ida Rentoul Outhwaite.

Hiding things is a common prank. They seem to enjoy watching a human get frustrated and confused. Have you ever been unable to find something, then eventually discovered that it was in plain sight, in a place you had already searched?

gustaf tenggren kid
by Gustaf Tenggren.

One morning at home (when I was still living in the town where I encountered the Tommyknockers reported earlier), I tried to find a certain pair of work gloves, heavy gauntlets about a foot long. They had last been placed in a box where I kept gloves. But they were nowhere to be found. The box was emptied and every item checked. The entire house was searched, even the bathroom and bedroom. The glove box was searched again. I was going to be late on the job, and was getting more and more frustrated.

daniela drescher blue (2)
by Daniela Drescher.

Then I realized what was going on, and invoked St. Anthony. Bingo! There were the gloves, neatly placed palm to palm, at the top of the glove box. And I sensed vast amusement coming from somewhere.

This sort of prank never seems to grow old for at least some of the Good People. It has happened to tools, eyeglasses, a box of matches, even the toilet plunger when was dealing with a clogged toilet in the middle of the night, which was just plain mean. In every case, the missing item did reappear right where it belonged, when the spell was broken.

Although apportion can explain some such events, in many instances it seems more likely that glamour was being used to obscure the object from sight. Glamour can be achieved as a form of aggressive telepathy used to interfere with how the mind interprets the visual signals collected by the eyes and other senses and processed by the brain. After all, the mind does edit and interpret all sensory input all the time. Glamour interferes. And yes, there are also humans who can do it.

froud weird
by Brian Froud.

Defeating visual glamour can sometimes be done by using a different sense, such as touch, to break the spell.

Invoking St. Anthony by reciting, “Tony, Tony, look around, there’s something lost that must be found,” or a similar rhyme, seems to work well. Sometimes, simply acknowledging that they succeeded in fooling you, then politely asking for the return of the missing object can work. And a few times, I have lost my temper and demanded the return under threat if retribution. It worked, but I don’t recommend it. Politeness is much better.

But at other times, if there was not an immediate need for the item, I would simply ignore the loss, which seemed to take the fun out of it for them, and the missing object would return on its own.

Sometimes, however, hiding things is done for benevolent reasons. For example, you might not be able to find your car keys and you are going to be late for work so you scurry around frantically, then discover that the stove was left on. Once the stove is turned off and safe, you find the keys right where they are supposed to be. This was a fictitious example, but I have had similar events occur.

maggie vandewall man (2)
by Maggie Vandewalle.

Pranks can also occur in a pattern. For a time years ago, it was screws being apported. A screw or two would disappear and not be found, not even by touch or holding a flashlight low to the floor to raise shadows, then a day or two later, they would be back. Other screws would appear in places where I know I did not place them. Once I went on a weekend trip, and when I unpacked at my destination, there were screws in the suitcase, with my clothes. Unpacking after I got home produced more screws. I mentioned this to a friend, and he commented, “They’re screwing with you, Bob.”

In a related incident, while unpacking after that trip, I discovered that a favorite T-shirt captioned, “you’re just jealous that the voices talk to me,” was missing, even though I had worn it on the trip.  Two days later, I found it laundered and neatly folded in a drawer.

On the other hand, more unpleasant events also happen. In the same house where so many of these events occurred I was sitting at the kitchen table when my chair suddenly collapsed beneath me. I was falling. I grabbed the table to save myself, and that broke the spell. The chair had not collapsed and I had not fallen, but as far as I knew, I damned well had fallen. This was probably the most intense episode of sensory glamour I had experienced.

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Around Halloween, 2004, I was hospitalized for a few days. Someone unseen kept jarring my bed, really hitting it hard, at irregular intervals. Nearly a year after that and in a different home, I was putting together some anecdotes for a talk about Halloween. I wrote about the incident with the hospital bed, and this reminded me about the incident with the chair at my previous home, when the chair I was actually sitting in while making my notes did collapse, for real, dropping me to the floor and banging me up a bit. I found that the bolts holding the seat to the base of the chair were no longer in place.

A year later, almost to the day, and hundreds of miles away, I was doing a written piece. I was thinking about the bed and the two chair incidents, when the chair I was sitting in totally fell apart, dropping me hard enough that I couldn’t sit at the keyboard for more than a few minutes at a time for days afterward. Was someone upset with me, or did someone not want me telling this story?

Incidents like this make me wonder whether or not some incidents attributed to poltergeist activity may more properly be blamed on the Little People?

ghost fairy

A more amusing incident happened in the same house as the last chair incident. One morning, I walked into my workshop to find a piece of scrap board, standing on end three feet from the place where it had been stored. Showing off, perhaps?

Some apportation events can be quite interesting and even wondrous. For a time back in the haunted town where I used to live, I kept finding quarter dollar coins, simply called quarters, about the house in places where I knew I hadn’t placed them. Then one winter I was working in a retail store. At the end of the day, I totaled the cash, and spied a quarter on the floor. Although the checks and most of the cash went into the night deposit slot of a nearby bank, the coins were simply tallied and left in the till. I added the stray coin to the till and totaled up the coins. Altogether, it came to $6.25. This was so noted and the shop was locked for the night.

That evening, I was invited to go hot-tubbing. I changed into a pair of sweatpants, transferring only my wallet and keys from my work trousers. After the tub time, I was getting dressed in the sweatpants again when a quarter fell to the floor. I knew I had no coins on me, so I suspected shenanigans. When I got back to the store the next morning, the coinage in the till was counted again. It was missing a quarter.

fairy folk

Another day, I was at the grocery. Ahead of me was a local woman, and I greeted her, asking how things were going. She replied that things weren’t going well at all. I simply told her that even on the bad days, something good happens. She seemed skeptical, but apparently someone was listening. When it was time for her to pay for her groceries, she pulled out her wallet, reached in, and came out with a $100 bill. She turned to me in astonishment and said, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but keep it up.”

Another time, I was conducting a weeknight discussion group about psychic matters at a church I attended. It was customary for those attending to make a donation if they could, to help the church. As a leader, I wasn’t expected to donate, but I liked to set an example and usually donated $5.

One evening, I had only three one-dollar bills in my wallet, so before going to the church, I obtained a five dollar bill and added it to my wallet. When the donations were collected, I took out my wallet, extracted the five dollar bill, and put my wallet away. I put the bill in the donations bowl. This was witnessed. After class, I totaled up the cash, which came to $19, including my five dollar bill. The money was sealed in an envelope with the total written outside, and locked away in the church office. The next morning, at home, I looked in my wallet and found three singles, and a five dollar bill.

At that church, the blessing recited during donations was as follows: “Divine Love, through me, blesses and multiplies all that I give and all that I receive, through the bounty of the Creator. Amen.”

Bob, U.S.

jean baptiste monge owl (3)
by Jean Baptiste-Monge.

 

Something in the Woods

I believe I’ve had several encounters with the Good People, since I was a small girl.  Too much has happened around me that I can’t really explain for it to be coincidental.

girl weird

 

Most of these have been happy, for the most part, though cautionary.  Even in the event it scared me, I didn’t feel particularly threatened.  I hear a bell quite often, just a soft tinkling sound that my dog seems to key in on, which is usually followed by finding something that I’ve been missing.

I’m careful not to say thank you when this happens, but it’s a strange, comfortable sort of thing.  I don’t really have words to describe it.  I live in a semi rural area, wooded on all sides of the houses.  We have about half an acre of woods on the property, but we also have neighbors across the main road and on either side of my home.

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I like to go out for hours and sit on a swing in my yard, enjoying nature, and occasionally listening to music, sometimes singing, or reading, and the swing faces the woods, so you see darting shadows and animals which occasionally regard you with almost knowing eyes.

Recently, however, I’ve been experiencing things of a nature that has me on edge.

It started about a week before Samhain.  I was spending the weekend alone for the most part, my family was out of town, but I had to work and was unable to take the days off.

My cousin came up and we had a good time, with some comfort food and music, and playing games and just generally talking until early in the morning.

About 1:00 in the morning, my dog decided she had to go out, so I let her out, standing out on my front porch.

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There was a chill in the air, as is typical for a fall in the Mountain State, but there were alot of nightly noises.

My dog stayed close to the house, in the light, straying only to the edge of it and staying there.

I noticed a light then, drifting too high to be someone carrying a flashlight or a phone, which came around the trees from my neighbors home, across the road, around another neighbor’s car and then drifting to the woodline down the road where it disappeared.

willowisp2
I’ve seen things out of the corner of my eye before, and it startled me to be sure, but I let it go and didn’t think much of it.

I mentioned it to my cousin, as strange as she could see me staring at it from inside the house but hadn’t seen it herself.

This MAY have been my mistake, but I cannot say for certain.

We continued our night as though nothing had happened, and she left about 2:30 in the morning.  I walked her to her car.  It was still a very clear night and fairly noisy.  She drove off, and I went back inside.

My dog was agitated and antsy, so I decided to settle in for a bit to see if this would let her in turn, calm down.   It did not.  So I took it to mean she needed to go outside.

It was now 3:00 in the morning and I stepped out onto the porch I’d just been on not half an hour prior.  It was dead silent and there was a thick fog that had rolled in out of nowhere.  My dog had her hackles raised and darted into the dark out of sight in the fog, definitely not in her nature.

I didn’t want to wake up my neighbors, but I was instantly on edge, peering through the fog trying to discern where she’d gone, hissing her name.  She came back several minutes later, coming just into the light from the porch, stopped and turned her head to look behind her, and wagged her tail, then came trotting back to me.

I was straining my ears, as she was obviously reacting to someone, and hesitantly called out “Brent, is that you?” hoping my neighbor was outside for some unknown reason at three in the morning and I just couldn’t see him.  What met my ears, however, was a scream.

I jumped, but then let out a sigh.

It was bone-chilling and sounded very much like a woman’s scream.  My brain automatically began rationing, as I calmed my hammering heart, that it was a fox.

And then I heard distant laughter.  Males, though I couldn’t make out the conversation.  Again, while it alarmed me, I figured one of the neighbourhood houses were having some sort of party and people were goofing around on a porch and was about to laugh, when I heard a horse.

Now, I should mention, that while I live in a rural area, no one for several miles has horses.  I was quick to head into the house, and was unable to sleep for several hours.  In fact, it was dawn before I was able to settle enough to sleep.

It was several days later and the family was back from their trip.  I was up before any of them, and took the dog outside as part of the morning routine. That thick fog and deep silence was back, and I felt uneasy, but let it go.

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She went out and came back to the porch, calm as calm could be.  And we were about to go back in when there was a low whistling from the dark around the side of my house, in the yard next to the wood.  My dog instantaneously perked her ears up and trotted to the stairs leading to that part of the yard with her tail wagging.

I couldn’t see anyone but I could sense that someone was there, and it unnerved me.  So I called to the dog and we headed back into the house, where I shut and locked the door up tight.

My parents got up and got ready for work, we made breakfast and I didn’t mention this to them, as they tend to make light of things and make me feel like I’ve gone crazy because “these things don’t exist.”

I was in for the shock of a lifetime though.

Because I heard my father swear, which he never does, when he opened up the door to use the remote start on his car and ensured it turned on so the heat would get started, as it was a very chilly morning.

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My mother and I both looked and there, sitting on the porch was my dog, who wagged her tail at us, and then bolted off of the porch into the fog.

Dad started out the door after her, and mom was on his heels, but they both stopped when I, panicked now, shouted for them NOT to go outside.

We’d all seen her, collar and all on my porch, but in the midst of the arguing, I pointed out that our dog was asleep on the floor in the living room, and I didn’t know what was outside but I was very much afraid.

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I have a set of old iron keys that I use for a decoration, which I retrieved from the wall with a look that did not barter room for discussion and I walked my parents to their car.

Nothing has happened since, and the feeling of foreboding is gone now, but I have been carrying these large heavy iron keys to and from my car when I leave the house after dark.

I’m taking every available precaution, paying close attention to my surroundings.  My feelings of peace are restored when i’m outside in the daytime, but I can remember every detail about that encounter and it’s stuck with me and I’m finding myself gazing into the dark expanse between my car and the wood line almost every night as I head out for work.

Jennifer – West Virginia, U.S.

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Faerie Phantom?

This is a fascinating experience. I suspect that given Simon feels this was some ‘Faerie intervention’, it probably was, but… it is difficult to explain. We would need to consider the incidence of Faerie attaching themselves to particular families and also ‘appearing’ great distances from home.
It is particularly interesting that Mary was raised in a family not only aware of the Good People, but clearly allowed the Good People into their daily lives. It’s a curious one, please let me know what you think, or if you have heard of a similar occurrence.
*
I was recently reminded of an interesting experience I had in my youth which I feel may be a time I encountered these Good People.  I feel that I may have encountered some sort of changeling… yet I would love to hear your view on this encounter.

 

It was many years ago, in the early 2000s.  I was fairly young and living in my home country of Australia, in the capital city of Canberra.  I had been dating a young Irish girl whom came to Australia for a holiday.  Her name was Mary and we hit it off and quickly moved in together before we planned on getting married (yes, it was a very quick romance… I think the whole issue of getting a visa played a big part in this).

Her family were very angry that she had decided to marry someone they never met, and after weeks of phone calls and letters they persuaded her to come home to Ireland for a short while before she would return for the marriage.  It was their intention to talk her out of it when she was home.

plane moon

Mary and I drove to Sydney International airport with a few of my friends who wanted to see her off too.  Mary and I said our sad goodbyes, promising to see each other again in a couple of months when she would return.  I watched her walk to the departure gate and leave.  I sadly returned to Canberra (several hours drive away) with my friends, where we decided to go out in an attempt to cheer me up and get my mind off missing Mary.

 

We decided to go to the movies, where we would watch a movie (funnily enough) called “Something about Mary” and we were the only people in the cinema.  After the movie, we chatted for a while as the credits rolled before my friends and I stood to leave.

cinema chairs
The cinema lights had been turned on, and we could see very well.  As we entered the aisle to leave , near the door to the cinema, stood Mary.  She stood there staring at us, wearing the same clothes we just saw her wearing when she boarded the plane, with no real expression on her face.  My friends and I stopped in the aisle when we saw her… we all looked at each other and one of them asked if that was Mary.
I told them it couldn’t be… they were with me when I dropped her off at the airport… she should be well into her flight back to Ireland.  We stood and watched her for a moment before she turned slowly and proceeded to walk to the closed door.
At this point we started to follow, she opened the door and walked through, allowing it to close behind her.  We quickly reached the door and opened it, to see her standing in the main cinema corridor (from which other cinema’s branched).
The corridor was only partially lit, yet we could see her very clearly.  She was part way up the corridor, her body sideways to us and she watched us as we left the cinema.  My friends again told me that it was Mary, yet I said that it can’t be Mary… I said that they knew as well as I did that she was on a plane, and this person was acting very strange.
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We stood in silence, watching her before she moved again.  She slowly turned and walked down the corridor away from us, heading towards the large cinema at the end of the hall.  I could see as she walked, her head turned slightly every now and then to see us as she walked.  I knew she wanted me to follow her, and my friends asked if I was going to follow her.  I wanted to,,, yet I replied that I wouldn’t follow.
I knew it wasn’t my Mary… I didn’t know what it was, yet I suspected that it was not a good idea to follow this figure.
A day or two later. Mary called from Ireland to let me know she arrived home safely.  When I told her about the figure I had witnessed, she had no knowledge of this visitation we encountered… not that I thought she would.
One more interesting point… when I did meet her family they were very connected to the Faerie world.  Not a day would go by without them mentioning something about the Good People… something, at the time, I thought was very unusual.
When I think back, knowing what I do now, could it be possible that the Good People were trying to prevent Mary and I from being together?  If so, it changed little as Mary and I married later that year, although our marriage didn’t work out in the end. So who knows?
I often wonder what would have happened had I followed that “pseudo” Mary.  Would my life be more interesting?  Would I have gone to some place amazing?  Or was it some phantom creature who meant to cause me harm?
I guess I will never know.
Simon – Sydney.
girl in hole 2

Encounter with Scottish Forest Faerie

I hope you enjoy this incredibly vivid account of an encounter in a dark, wet Scottish forest. In all honesty, I’m not sure I would have remained as composed as Kelly. I find it particularly interesting that the Faerie seemed to ‘test’ Kelly, and appreciate her feisty nature. – Kitty.

*

I was living in my car at this time, my partner lived in his. We both had one dog each with us, but we were freezing cold and struggling to cope with the elements.

We were temporarily homeless and had nowhere else to go. On this particular night we were on the beach at Oban.

oban-town-in-scotland
Oban, Scotland.

The wind was strong and it was below freezing. My partner suggested we go to the forest. It was a place he often camped in, and he had left a small tent in a secret location there, it was his emergency home.

I agreed to spend the night in the tent, because I needed to lay down flat, and my car was too small to sleep in and relax.scot forest logs

The forest itself was on an incline. The ground was very muddy and slippery. We only had the moonlight to help us navigate our way up through the trees. I had to climb over fallen trees and crawl under the low laying ones. I was not in a good mood.

We found the tent and it was in a state of disrepair. The front zip had broken and the inner bedroom compartment zip only went down half way. So this made the tent colder than usual.

I complained constantly about our plight, while the wind whistled round the tent and the cold froze my fingers and toes.

maple puddle

I bought a mat and a sleeping bag to lay on, but as soon as I got in the sleeping bag, that is when the rain started. It poured down and soon the tent floor was soaking, which in turn saturated my sleeping bag. By now, I was a snivelling wreck.

I just sat crying and feeling sorry for myself suddenly, two men started talking to each other at the back of the tent. I could hear them as clear as anything. They sounded like they were having a normal day to day chat but I could not make out any of their words, even though I felt it was familiar, like English.

The chat seem to last some time, possibly about half an hour. During this time I tried to think of any possible reason why, or how, anyone had found this actual spot, that was well hidden from the public, and why they should be stood chatting in a storm.

The chat ended. After a few moments I heard the sound of heavy foot prints walk around the tent, crunching sticks under foot. My heart was pounding in fear, because we were so vulnerable.

Suddenly something hit the tent, it hit it so hard the canvas came inwards towards me. This happened 3 times. It was as if someone was using a heavy stick to strike the tent. My heart was beating so fast, I could barely speak. The dogs started barking and jumping around. Then silence.

I was now so distressed I was on my knees rocking backwards and forwards. I hadn’t slept for nights, and I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and tried to lull myself to sleep.

tent in rain

That is when I heard the music. It was coming from further up the forest. There was no housing up there, or anywhere a band could play. Yet, it sounded like a band was starting. I heard a rich, male voice start to sing out in to the wind. I could not make out the words, but he sounded like a young man.

violin

The violins sounded out, yet they were not violins. The instruments where familiar, yet nothing I had heard of in my day to day life.

The music got louder and louder and it was like a party was starting. I heard lots of voices start to join in. It gave me comfort, but it intrigued me so much, because I wanted to know how and why anyone would want to party in a storm, in the middle of winter, in a cold, muddy forest. It made no sense.

I still had my eyes closed, but now I “saw” all these faces coming towards me, mocking me, teasing me, trying to scare me. Some were hideous and frightening, some human like and handsome. The one I recall the most was the young man. I somehow linked his face to the voice that was singing. He had a mop of dark curly hair and beautiful green eyes, he looked Irish to me, he was the one with the cheeky smile.

I was so infuriated by my plight that I had no time for fear now. So the scary faces that growled at me, I swore at, and told them to back off. Their expressions changed. Some looked bemused, one looked shocked. Then suddenly, it was if they thought “who the hell is this woman?”, and they softened up towards me. I honestly felt like they came to ward me off, and some came to welcome me, but in the end, it was like a general acceptance. I really believed at this point that I was in THEIR forest, and that they had decided I could stay.

I spoke in my mind to the faces and their expressions is where I got their answers. I asked them if I should leave my partner, because I blamed him for out plight, and one laughed, the other looked confused, and the other face rolled its eyes! In other words, “it was none of their business!”

So they disappeared. That is when the wind picked up, and started to whistle through the trees. I could not believe what I was hearing, it was like the trees where singing! It was so beautiful, it hypnotised me. I felt like I should leave the tent and follow the sound, and go and join the fairies, but at this point, my partner told me to stay inside. It was like I was been lulled out of the tent.

I stayed put and then suddenly the wind died down, then the rain stopped.

That is when the ball of light came bouncing in to the tent. It was like a purple, lit up bouncy ball. It came in and knocked things over. There was no explanation for what it was. The dogs went insane and started barking at it at running towards it. I was sat opened mouthed in absolute wonder.

It bounced out of the tent and disappeared.

That is when I fell asleep.

The next morning I asked my partner if he saw or heard anything, to which he replied, “Congratulations Fallbrook, you met the fairies”.

rainbow after storm

We got a job soon after and moved into a park. During the coming winter when the season ended, they came back to see me twice. Both times they struck the caravan three times! I knew it was them. I called out “hello”.

I believe the fairies are like people. You get the good, the bad, and the ugly. I think they saw my distress, and some wanted to help me, while others wanted to scare me out of their forest, but they came around because I am strong spirited. I see them as my friends.

I try to protect the forest, because I believe it is their home. I also think that when I go to other places on the west coast of Scotland, they recognise me.

They are hidden, but real. I love them. I hope to meet them again and talk to them. I just hope that my circumstances are nicer than the last time.

I did meet them again, but that is another story.

I swear my story is true. I really did see them, and hear them. My dogs saw them. They see us, but it is hard for us to see them. I believe that you need the second sight to see them.

Kelly Fallbrook – Scotland.

An Attempted Abduction?

It was late in the afternoon in a small town in the Cascadian Mountain range in 2010.

I suddenly had a strong whim to go to a park I’ve only passed by once. In that small, safe town, following my whims often lead me to some beautiful places and was a fun way to occupy my time.

This whim was very strong though, I felt like someone was waiting for me. Honestly, I thought it was my professor– and my encounter would help my studies. It was freezing out and a mile and a half walk away.

But– why not! I put on my boots and coat and head out. It was a new moon that night– but I forgot to bring a flashlight. In that rural town– it would be blinding-dark on a night of a new-moon. I cursed this mistake 20 minutes into my walk.

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I get there while the sun was still pretty well up in the sky and I’m drawn to this tree. I don’t understand it, but I go with it. So I wait by the tree– and out from in the top of this tree appears this black cat.

It jumps down and sits in front of me very regally. It meows as if it’s conversing with me and then runs off down a deer path in the park . It comes back up. Sits regally. Meows very demanding-like and…

… runs down the path. This repeats 4 times until I decide “ok I’m following this cat!” and I follow this cat down this path which was unusually nice but obviously not-officially maintained by the town.

The cat and I both hopped stones over the river and up quite a ways— I’m getting quite nervous at this point! It’s going to be very dark soon! Finally- we arrive in this door way that was built into the mountain.

Like a tiny 3-foot stone entry way into the mountain with a lovely wooden door hinged upon it. There was a small sliver of one of the door’s boards missing from the bottom and the cat jumped thru it- jumped out, jumped in, jumped out. It meowed- it wanted me to go inside.

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The sun was setting— the rocks over the river– and now into this dark doorway without a flash light?

Cat, I’m sorry I’ll come back tomorrow” I told the cat- honestly quite scared.

The whole thing is over-worldly and my guts and bones are telling me to not open that door.

I turned my back and the cat meowed and meowed and meowed at me. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning!!” I promised the cat. I used the last few inches of the light in the sky to see my way back to the maintained path that had lights in the park.

I was overwhelmed— I went home and couldn’t relax. I woke up before sunrise unable to rest and as soon as dawn broke I made my way back to the park– down the deer path, over the river– and there I kid you freaking not:

The entire doorway was succumbed to dead thorns.

The door that was previous properly hinged was on the floor by the sheer strength of these dead thorns. The ENTIRE door way was chalked full of these dead thorns, and it grew out out of the door-way and even surpassed the door. Also the door wasn’t all cute and lovely anymore and it looked like it had laid there for a several years.

I cannot explain this logically for the life of me. The strength of a plant to knock a door off it’s hinges wouldn’t have even been able to die in a mere night.

I previously thought I missed out on an Alice in Wonderland kinda experience but now I’m curious if I was almost adult-napped by fairies.

Skuttle Star – U.S.A

Illustration
 

Illustration by Skuttle Star.

 

The German struck by Strey

Well now it must have been around 1991 or 1992. I remember you see as Mary Robinson was still new as President and the German had taken a shine to her.

This German man, don’t ask me his name for I have no chance of remembering that, it’s all I can do to remember my dinner these days, anyway this German fella came over to Cork for to recover from some thing or another. It was some sort of upset anyway he was trying to recuperate from. Why he chose Cork I do not know, but he did.little-cottage-free images (2)

So he rented the wee cottage down the way from my farm, someways outside of Bantry town. I saw him from most days taking walks and we would pass the time, you know how it is. He was friendly enough. Not interested in taking in the tourist sites or anything like that, and he wasn’t a drinking man, not least in town but who knows what people do behind closed doors and it’s not for me to say.

He must have been here, in the valley just a few weeks. I’d see him walking 2 or 3 times a day, from the fields or my kitchen window you see.

Then this one day I see him rushing toward my house like a mad thing and it must have been around dusk then. Something had hold of him and no doubt. His clothes were sopping and grabbed at me talking gibberish and wouldn’t let go of my arms.

So I sat him down and got him speaking English and he said he had been out since morning walking. Walking and walking, he said he couldn’t stop and couldn’t find his way back.

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He was just walking around the same woodland path, through the creek, around a set of trees on that side of the creek, then he’d find himself back at the creek, walk through it to get to the other side, then around the same woodland path and back to the creek.

He was lost he said and every time he thought he figured the way out, he found himself back at the creek. And something telling him his house was on the other side of the creek so he crossed it and so it went over and again.

He was in a feckin torment. Had been going on for hours and hours so he said.

Well I gave it some thought and asked him, “Did you go near the old stones at all?” and he answered yes, he did.

And I told him I said “you don’t want to be going near those old stones. You’re after upsetting the Good Folk there”. Well o’course he had no idea of the Good Folk so I explained to him all I thought he need knowing, it wasn’t much but enough. “They’ve only put the Strey on you” I said, “They play tricks with your mind, get you lost and keep you lost. You can count yourself lucky they didn’t drown you in that creek”.

Well his face fell deathly pale and he made me walk with him, back to his wee house. He packed his bags and left. Right then. I walked with him to the road to Bantry and stood waiting with him until a car pulled up and gave him a ride.

Never saw that German again, poor fella got such a fright. But it’s true you know, what I said, he was lucky to get away with only a dose of the Strey. It could have been worse, much worse.

Barry – County Cork

The Faerie Dog

I had an encounter with a Faerie when I was 8 or 9 years old. I don’t remember a lot of it myself, although I definitely remember it happening. big-foot-1312500 (2)

Luckily my Mum was there too and has told the story so many times since it happened, I couldn’t forget it if I tried!

I live in Dublin now raising my own children, but back in 1972 when we had our ‘encounter’, we were living outside of Bunclody in the County Wexford.

So, the day I encountered the Faerie dog had been like any other day. I was after getting off the school bus to find that, once again, Mum was late and not there in the car to drive me home. This had happened a thousand times before and I knew what to do: stand still and wait for her. This I did, and can remember running the nine times table through my mind over and over, for to keep myself occupied.

So, I was there alone, the bus long gone and the road was quiet but I wasn’t worried. It was a safe town after all.beetle-free (2)

Then I noticed this olive green car with 2 men in it drive past me, real slow like, looking at me all the while, then a few minutes later it drove past going the other way, turned and came back toward me.

All of a sudden, this black dog, or it could have been brown, appeared out of no place and stood beside me. It was big. Not so big as a wolfhound but heavier. I think it had a real barrel chest and a thick, short coat but can’t be certain, and to this day, I couldn’t tell you if it were male or female.

Anyway, this dog rested a paw on my foot, hard like, pushing my foot into the ground as it stared at the car approaching us. I remember the sound of it growling low and deep so that its whole body shuddered and the fur on its back shackled upright.

I was scared stiff. Truly I couldn’t move a muscle, not knowing whether to stay or run or whether to be more scared of the dog or the car.

The car with the 2 men stopped right in front of me and the fella in the passenger seat rolled his window down and said something like “hop in and come for a ride”.

Next thing I know, he opened the car door, stepped a foot out onto the road and the dog flew at him, grabbed his leg, shook it hard and pulled on it something fierce, I thought he was going to rip his whole leg off!

I remember the fella shrieking high, like a girl, and his pal hollering at him to get back in the car. But he just kept shrieking and wailing.

The dog was latched on that fella’s leg and wasn’t letting go and I tell you, the snarl coming from it was like nothing I’d heard before, or since. Just the thought of it gives me shivers, even today.

And that’s when I noticed my Mum pull up in her car behind. She hurled herself from out behind the wheel and round her car and the driver of the car hit the pedal.

The shrieking man was dragged along the road, half in the car, half out of it, with the dog still attached to his leg. There was blood everywhere, all over the road, all over the dog. It was awful. I remember the smell of the blood, sweet but foul, like a gutted fish left sat in the Sun.

My Mum stood in the middle of the road, flailing her arms and hurling abuse after the car. The dog let go the man and the car sped off. I was crying, Mum was screaming and the dog… well it was stood in the middle of the road too, but then it turned and looked hard at Mum.

No word of a lie, with only one glare, that dog silenced my Mum (and if you knew my Mum you’d think it a miracle!).

The dog, blood covering its head and chest and still dripping from its jaw, walked right up and stood about a metre in front of her. The two of them stood staring at each other for about half a minute. It wasn’t long but I remember it felt like forever.

Do you know, not for a second did I think it would attack her, I don’t know why, I just knew it wouldn’t. Anyway, then the dog walked away toward the cluster of trees I guess it came out of and it was gone.

Without a word, Mum scooped me up and put me in the car, a mustard Cortina it was (I loved that car), grabbed paper and pencils from her bag, and shoved them at me. Then she barked at me to write down everything that just happened, and fast. Well this I did, and she did the same. Every now and again she would say, “EVERYTHING, WRITE EVERY LITTLE THING”.

We both finished and sat in silence for I don’t know how long until eventually my Mum said, “you were just saved by a Faerie. And if we aren’t careful, we’ll forget the whole thing”.

Mum drove like a Banshee to my Auntie’s house which was only 5 minutes from the bus stop, and burst through her door yelling “Nora, I’ve just been scolded by a Faerie!”.

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Aunt Nora

We told Auntie Nora everything we could remember and then passed her our written notes. I remember my Auntie raising an eyebrow and saying “There’s a lot you have written that you didn’t tell me. You are forgetting and no doubt”.

Then she frowned and said to Mum “Please tell me you didn’t thank the Faerie”.

Of course I didn’t thank the Faerie Nora, what sort of fool do you take me for? You never thank a Faerie!”

I didn’t have a scratch on me, nothing to prove what had happened, and then I remembered my foot. The weight of the dog pushing on my foot. I rolled my sock off and there it was, a purple bruised pawprint. I saw it with my own eyes, and showed it to Mum and Auntie too. Not that Auntie needed convincing, she always believed in the Good Folk. Sure, she’d have plenty of stories for you herself.

That was the day I encountered a Faerie of Ireland. I can safely say that every week of every month of every year since that day in 1972, either Mum or Auntie have told this story to someone, to keep it alive like, so it’s never forgotten. Thank goodness my Mum knew enough of the Faerie to write the experience down before it was lost to us.

Oh! I almost forgot the best part. When the dog stood in front of Mum and stared at her, she said she heard its voice in her own mind. She wrote down only moments later what it had said to her.

Manys the time I have watched over your unguarded daughter. If she is left alone once more, I will claim her to live among Faerie.”

From Sharon – Dublin, Ireland

Graveyard Visit

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Me and a friend are avid historians. We sort of like old historical monuments. I live in a city (Waterford) where there are many old historical features castles, city walls, burial grounds, ruins, churches etc.

One summer me and my friend decided to check out some old graveyards. We were mostly using Google maps to find the places. Many of these were in secluded areas, so we were relying on aerial photographs.

One of these was in quite a remote area. I think it was a famine graveyard from Ireland’s “Great Hunger”, or at least some of the victims may have been buried there, so it it’s very likely it may have actually pre-dated this period.

We ventured in and we are waist-deep in nettles, weeds, and grass. The writings on the headstones were indecipherable. As we left this graveyard we were met by the landowner. Now, he didn’t mind us being in there as we explained we were just interested in the historical element of the graveyard. We had a long conversation about the place.

The way he spoke about the place was sort of eerie. He said that there were bodies under an area new road was built over. For some reason he also talked about a fairy bush. He believed that some workers who had interfered with this fairy bush had succumbed to horrible accidents shortly after trying to remove the fairy bush.

He seemed genuine in his conviction.

The man had grown up in the area and had lived there all his life. He had a reverence for the land he lived on and an utmost respect for the dead that lived just a stones throw from his house.

Rob – Waterford

The May Magpie

I have enjoyed reading about other people’s experiences with fairy of Ireland and wanted to share my story too, although it’s not really about me at all.

In May 1992, I stayed 4 weeks at a Bed & Breakfast in far north Donegal. I won’t trouble you with the reason for my extended stay, suffice to say I departed a better man than had arrived.

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I want to tell you about Nora, my host at the B&B. She has been in my thoughts lately, as I have come to realize she probably saved my life.

Nora ran her house with the routine of a drill sergeant and expected absolute courtesy from her guests. She fed me three times a day, insisted I hike at least once a day (regardless of the weather) and dragged more ‘pleases’ and ‘thankyous’ from me in those 4 weeks than my Mom had managed in 20 years! But she was by no means a hard woman. She had a soft spot for troubled souls like me and… she believed in fairies.

I arrived in Donegal in early May. The one month in the year so Nora told me, you are most likely to be stolen or attacked by a fairy. Though I never (knowingly) saw one myself, according to Nora her garden was teeming with them.

She spoke to them, and about them, politely, as though they were distant relations but there was one that caused her constant worry. The May Magpie.magpie-1332420 (2).jpg

According to Nora, a lone magpie in May is a disagreeable fairy in disguise with a mind to cause you harm.

And she had one in her garden.

There it is as every year before,” she said as she set breakfast to the table in the sunroom (which overlooked the garden), “come to test me. I’ll be keeping the cat inside til June now, hope you’re not allergic”.

She had a tight smile on her lips and a keen eye on the magpie as she spoke. “If you slight the May magpie, it will bring a world of trouble to your door the likes you had never known”.

I had to stifle my young self from laughing as Nora assured me she could handle the fairies and knew how to appease the May magpie.

And so, for the next 4 weeks I watched. Every morning, after serving my breakfast, Nora ventured into the garden to greet the waiting May magpie.

She bowed her head in greeting and spoke a familiar word or two.

Good day to you, and isn’t it a fine one?” or “You are looking well yourself” she would say.

And every day after serving my lunch, she would venture back into the garden, make a little small talk and leave a bowl of Guinness for it to drink.

They say there’s a change coming from the West now”.

And would never think of hitting the sack without checking in… “I’m off out after tea, so I’ll bid you goodnight” she once hollered from the backdoor.

One day I even heard her give the May magpie the time, “It’s a quarter past the midday now” she said as she pinned washing on the line.

That lone May magpie, at least for the month of May, was treated as Nora’s most revered and dare I say, feared, guest. I can only wonder what might have happened if Nora had displeased the May magpie for no matter how I tried, she would never venture into that conversation.

I have seen and done many things in my life that are best forgotten, but memories of Nora and her May magpie have never left me. In fact, the words Nora told me back then, ring just as true today.

A kind word goes a long way” she said, “it just wants you to acknowledge it. To say I see you. You have no need to harm me nor I you. Let us live byside each other in peace.That is all we need tell any of the fairies”.

Even now, after all these years, I still think about the fairies in Ireland and still nod my regards to a lone magpie.

Just in case.

Daniel – Philadelphia

The Treehouse

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When I was about 10, my dad decided to build me a treehouse over the 4th July holidays.

Our backyard was fantastic, it was more like a meadow, with rolling grass, flowers growing wild along the fences, iron gates and unruly trees of amazing colours. A great garden for a kid to explore.

Dad was a carpenter and knew how to build, he was no hack, he knew wood, he knew trees and had the best tools, but no matter what he did, he could not keep this treehouse together.

He chose an old oak tree which stood right in the middle of the yard and began by setting the supporting beams in the ground with cement. He had no problems with that but when he moved on to the braces and platform, that’s when the trouble started.

The next morning he went outside to find the braces and platform on the ground and the screws (stainless steel) he had inserted in the tree pulled out and the threads flattened and un-useable.

He thought it was stupid kids messing around and vowed to finish the tree that very day. He worked all day and into the evening and, apart from the rails, got the basic treehouse built.

Next morning, same thing, only this time all the treehouse, except the supporting beams, was in a heap on the ground. Dad was seething. We couldn’t talk to him all day he was so angry. He rebuilt the whole thing again and this time, at nightfall, stayed up in the treehouse with a torch and waited to see if the kids returned.

Next morning, I came downstairs to find Dad sitting in at the kitchen table, face pale and hands clasped around a glass of Mum’s brandy. Mum sat next to him with her hand on his shoulder and shook her head at me as if to say ‘don’t ask’.

So I walked over and looked out the window at the backyard and there, all over the ground, were scattered the various pieces of the treehouse. The only thing standing were the supporting beams.

Not a word was said, but later that day Dad took the chainsaw to the beams and cut them off at ground level and stored the wood neatly under the house. All plans for a treehouse were abandoned.

Fast forward 6 years, at my sister’s wedding, Dad got rolling drunk and I asked him what happened that night in the treehouse. He told me that he had been visited, not by neighbourhood kids, but by 3 creatures.

They came at him not from the ground below but scurried across from the branches of other trees. They were covered in green fur and their eyes were big as plates. He said he shone his torch at them and they growled and banged their fists into the wood of the treehouse.

Dad was terrified and tried to grab the ladder to get down when they started tearing the treehouse apart, only not with their hands, but seemingly with their eyes. He said they stared at the joins and the screws and seconds later they just separated and fell to the ground.

Dad jumped to the grass below and stood watching the demolition in astonishment but not fear. He said, once he was on the ground, he felt no fear of them.

When they had finished, the 3 creatures lay their hands on the wounded parts of the tree and mumbled like some sort of ritual. Then they were gone. Dad didn’t see where they went, they were just gone from sight and his treehouse building days were behind him.

Dad grabbed me by the lapel of my tux and said “That old oak was a Fairy Tree, we got off light. Never touch a Fairy Tree”.

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And the tree? well, Dad built a (metal) fence around the tree so no-one can climb it or even touch it.

Sean – Pennsylvania