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Log Cabin Ghost Story

Log cabin ghost story

Johnny and Mary leave the house with their coats zipped up to the neck and cautions from
their mother and head up the road to Ms. O’Brien’s house. At the chorus of “Trick-or-Treats!”,
she ushers them inside to the fire and offers them a slice of báirín breac each.  
“Well lads, how are ye? How’s your mother?”, Ms. O’Brien asks as she bustles around the
kitchen. The children mumble vague assurances of their family’s health as the kettle boils
and the cake is cut.  

Limerick Scandinavian log cabin in snow

The Banshee…

“Now isn’t this lovely? Jaysus sure it’s much better to be in than out there. I can hear the banshee whistling through the trees, can’t you?” the woman grins at them with a glint in her eye. “I was going to tell ye a log cabin ghost story, but… Did I ever tell ye the tale of the oul’ Banshee?”

Johnnie and Mary share a glance before shaking their heads.

“Well, this will be a treat so!” she laughs. “It was Oiche Shamna, just like this one. A dark evening, with the wind screaming in your ears and biting at your coats. These two páistí, just like yourselves, are walking through an oak forest, looking for treats. They were so hungry for a treat that they hardly noticed the moon climb high in the sky, as white and shiny as a pail of milk, and the way the trees seemed to shiver with fear… In the distance they saw an ould teachín, a wooden one. Twas dark behind the dusty windows, but for a glint of a stove, and the smoke come haring out of the chimney above. As the two children drew closer to the cottage, the trees seemed to whisper “Go back! Go back!”, and the scraggly ravens raced towards the moon, screeching “A-way! A-way!”. But the poor children were too hungry and tired to care, and they knocked on the big wooden door anyways. From inside the cottage a loud groan was to be heard, and heavy footsteps stomped along the old floorboards- stomp, stomp, stomp. Slowly the door creaked open, and the hinges squealed…. and-”

Saved by the bell…

Ding!

Ms. O’Brien jumps back into the present as her phone buzzes. Johnnie and Mary, so invested in the story, blink and try to remember where they are.

Granny O’Brien is calling…

“Let me check this yoke” mutters the woman as she puts on her glasses.
“Well speak of the devil! Granny O’Brien is wondering if I have any báirín breac to spare! Would ye be angels
and bring this up to her? She’s just in the granny flat at the back of the garden. Twas a really handy job- built in a couple of weeks! G’wan so! Lovely seeing ye!”

And with that, Johnnie and Mary are ushered out of the cosy kitchen with a bundle of cake in their arms and their hearts in their throats. They turn their gaze towards a glimmer in the very back of the garden, where a chimney and smoke can be made out. It did kinda look like one of those haunted log cabins…

The children walk under a grove of oak trees, and they can feel the moonlight clawing at them through the branches. All they can hear is the crunching of amber leaves underfoot, and the fluttering of feathers in the dry branches. Slowly, their eyes adjust to the light, and the foster cabin comes into view. It’s a wooden structure, with pumpkins and an armchair on the porch, curtains drawn. Looks like something you’d see in a log cabin village in Scandinavia. Johnnie stares at Mary as she reaches out with a shaking hand to ring the doorbell. It reverberates through the garden, sending the crows high into the sky, and the trembling branches reach a crescendo. The two children squeeze their eyes shut, waiting to hear the creaking floorboards, the looming footsteps and the squealing hinge, when suddenly they are hit with a blast of warmth.

Log cabins aren’t spooky!

“Well, isn’t this lovely! How are ye? Come in, come in, out of the cold! Look at ye, shivering, sure ye must be freezing!” Johnnie and Mary open their eyes in disbelief as Granny O’Brien hurries them inside to the stove, chatting about hot chocolate. 
“Well, what do ye think of the place? A gorgeous warm stove, time sensitive lighting, spanking new floorboards made from the finest Norway Spruce and smashin’ double-glazed windows. Not a draught in sight!

What’s this? Báirín breac? I love báirín breac, so I do!”

Well, the kids weren’t looked up in a cage or fed to a giant ogre. There was no cauldron filled with frogs legs soup, or funny looking bottles filled with potions and poultices.

“These log cabins aren’t spooky at all, so they aren’t”, says Johnny to his sister on their way home. “They’re just well-built, easy to heat, long-lasting alternatives to conventional, overly-expensive construction methods!”

Just then a black cat jumped out from under a blackthorn bush, glared at them through it’s yellow, piercing eyes and HISSSSSSSSSED!

black cat

The children ran home as fast as their legs could carry them!

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