The Dullahan’s body was without a head but in its stead, beside him was a corpulent jack o’ lantern. Not a cheerful orange like the ones displayed on Samhain to light the way for lost souls -it was more the colour of mouldy Muenster cheese. The surface was seemingly smooth and had an incandescent quality,like the will o’ the wisps that played in the bogs of the highlands. It was split horizontally by a jagged maniacal grin. Hellfire flicked in its recesses. In the eerie orange glow of its eye sockets were two large livery flies. They franticly darting to and fro, the spawn of Beelzebub himself. But it was the creature’s hollow laughter that drove sane men mad -a bleak, soulless sound that injected despair into the truest of hearts. In an instant the spectral coach was upon them. The headless coachman pulled back on the reins stopping the carriage mere inches from the low balcony rail. It hung in mid-air like heavy black ink in water. The Dullahan was fitted from shoulder to boot-heel in the shades of colourless shadow. With a swift and powerful knee jerk motion he kicked the retractable steps. They unfolded -one, two, three. He then stood erect in one savage movement. Just as quickly he snatched up the pungent pumpkin head at his left and set it upon his broad shoulders. His fat fly-eyes shifted back and forth. It was an unnerving sight even for the purveyors of the macabre that stood before him. And as before it was the empty echo of his laughter, a deep hollow mockery of merriment, that made the most wicked among them consider redemption, if only for a fleeting moment. fr. Travers McCraken The Prince of Knocknafay
Posted on: Sun, 31 Aug 2014 16:54:59 +0000
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