HauntedA Story by JE Falcon A fictional tale that may have happened at some time or another; I said, "may have". "It's the wee-little people, I'm tell-in you!” stated Conner O'Brien.
Patrick O'Brien replied, “Are ye daft, man? --- If it were the wee ones you'd be see-in sparkles in and among the clover. And yet, not one little sprinkle is to be seen, --- so it can't be them!” To which Conner questioned, “Well, what in blazes is it?” *** The O'Brien brothers are their usual bickering selves. They are seated at the edge of a pond doing a bit of fish-in. Although, I'm not sure they would ketch any fish on this day, on account of all the noise they were make-in. “And what are the O'Brien's bickering about?” you ask. Well, it seems that there is a glowing light not a stone's throw from where they were seated. A light, all hollowed-green, and it is a-glow under a Fickle-tree.
About Fickle-trees, years later these trees will be called Ficus trees due to a man named Finnegan Phi, a brewer of spirited beverages. Now, it just so happened that when Finnegan brewed a new batch of spirits, he would pour some in his carry-jug to sample. And after the jug was full, he would go sit beneath his favorite Fickle-tree and sample what he had made. Well wouldn't you know that the more he sampled the more inebriated he became, and the more inebriated he became the more he would complain? Yes, Finnegan Phi complained about the state of the world, the cost of the barley, his children's laziness. Yes, he was very discontent while drinking, and he complained about almost everything. The problem was, the more Finnegan drank, and the more he complained, the angrier he became. So, after a while he would get very angry, and he would begin to cuss. Oh, such terrible words coming from Finnegan's mouth prompted his wife, of thirty-four years, to start calling Finnegan's favorite place to drink, “Phi's cussing tree.” And over the years, and passed from one mouth to another, it went from a Fickle tree to Phi's Cussing Tree, and then others misspelled and reworded that, and it became a Fi's cuss tree, and finally, Ficus tree.
Well, one might say that this tree naming story is nothing more than a tall tale. But, hey, like the tree it has Irish Roots and has all the needed elements; a jug of spirits, a shady place to drink, and a bit of the Blarney mixed into the story being told. So, who's to tell what is true and what is fiction?
Now, where was I? --- Oh yes. “And what are the O'Brien's bickering about?” Well, it seems that there is a glowing light not a stone's throw from where the brothers were seated. A light that is all hollowed-green, color-wise. So, after studying it for a time, Patrick stated, “Perhaps it is the Ghost of Old Lady McCormick, the medow-hag. You know the one I mean; she was called the fish-in witch of Reflection Pond. I hear she met her end in this pond, and it's been told that she haunts this meadow when the moon is full.” Conner laughed so hard that he dropped his fish-in stick. And after he bent down to pick it up, he replied, the full moon was six days past, and ghosts are not green, ghosts are like a foggy mist, kind of white.” “How do you know,” Patrick asked, “have you seen any ghosts in this meadow before?” Maybe because they are meadow ghosts, maybe that could turn them green, you know, cause of all the clover.” Conner laughed again before dropping his fishing stick for the second time. “The light is getting closer,” Conner warned, “I think we should go, maybe to find someone that knows something about ghostly green lights.” So down the road they went, heading to town. And to the pub the brothers ventured, leaving the hollowed-green light and their fishing sticks behind.
Once at the pub, the O'Brien brothers told the tale of the hollowed-green light in the meadow. And wouldn't you know that the story was received as entertainment by some, so much so that a round of drinks were bought for the troubled brothers as they told the story in great detail. Then another round was bought for the O'Brien brothers, so, they explained about their narrow escape from the dreaded green ghost, and how it tried to drown them in the pond. More drinks were purchased, so the O'Brien's told of the Fairy Brigade saving them from certain death at the hands of another ghost that looked much the same as the first. Then there was the band of little people who surrounded a Banshee that came out of a nearby cave. And the little people rendered the spirit helpless with their fairy-magic and spells.
Well, it wasn't until the wee hours of morning that the O'Brien Brothers run out of stories to tell, and curious listeners to buy them drinks. So, it was early in the morning that the two brothers made their way home, stumbling and staggering along the dirt road.
They had not so much as one tiny fish to show for the day's fishing, but they had stories to tell. Yes, staggering along the road with one arm around the other, both singing the same Irish tune as their hollowed-green ghost dutifully followed behind. JE Falcon 02-12-2022
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JE FalconCAAboutI began writing poems and narrative poems as a hobby about 1970. I like writing in rhyme but have others. I published some poems and won some awards in the 1980's, mostly in quarterlies across the U.. more..Writing
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