A Bump in the Night

“A Bump in the Night

“Did you hear that?” I turned on the light: “Hear what? Go back to sleep.” The Shamrock Hotel was haunted, or so the brochure indicated. Margo, my friend, a fellow ghost enthusiast, glared at me: “I heard something go bump; maybe it is the ghost of John Applebee. It was our first visit to Ireland; it was beautiful with lush greenery and stories about leprechauns and banshees. We took a pony cart ride later in the morning to Dublin. Our guide, a superstitious, wizened-faced old Irishman, Patrick McDougal. We toured a stone castle; by rights there should be a great many ghosts, but we saw nothing. We returned to the Shamrock Hotel for dinner. Margo was convinced there was some sort of unearthly being in the hotel. Evening in Ireland is spectacular as the sun set; magical things happen at night, or so Patrick stated.

Margo was already in her bed reading about banshees, while I amused myself watching a movie about an old man who met a leprechaun. Suddenly, the lights went out, and a cold wind swept into the room. I hurriedly closed the window; several minutes later, the lights went back on. Margo looked at me hopefully: “Maybe it was a banshee. Patrick said they appear at night; maybe that was what went bump last night.” “Margo, there are no such things as banshees or leprechauns.” I admonished, “Now go to sleep.” I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get any sleep. Margo was already asleep, which was in my favor, or so I thought. Margo suddenly screamed; I jumped out of my bed: “what’s the problem Margo/” I heard a wail outside the window; quickly I shut the window. Margo turned over to look at me: “What was that noise?” I have never been a good liar; this time was no exception: “I heard something and closed the window.” Thinking that would put an end to Margo’s fright. Not Margo; she was out of bed and peering out the window: “You said there was no need to be afraid; what if that was a banshee and it tries to take us for a ride in a black carriage? Then what do we do?” I could not believe I was having this conversation with Margo, but someone had to be a realist. “Margo, for heaven's sake, go to bed! If it will make you feel better, I will keep watch for the banshee.” She went back to her bed, fluffed up the pillow, then began to snore. Now I was wide awake! I listened most of the night; if there was a banshee close by, I certainly did not see or hear it. There is nothing more beautiful than a sunrise in Ireland; there is an earthy smell that is so clean. I was wide awake when Margo awoke; today we are sightseeing in Dublin. The agenda for today is: Blarney Castle and of course of Blarney Stone. A haunted tour of Dublin begins with Marsh’s Library, the oldest public library is haunted by Archbishop Narcissus Marsh a ghost seeking a lost letter. Hellfire Club a ruined hunting lodge where dark rituals and sightings of the devil happen. Kilmainham Gaol where the leaders of the 1916 Easter. The men who were the leaders were executed in May of 1916; some still haunt the gaol. This was rather disconcerting for me; my ancestry is Irish and so is Margo’s. I suppose that is why we are both ghost hunters. We returned to the Shamrock Hotel, found a place to eat dinner, then returned to our room. We strode in; suddenly, there was an unexplained chill in the room. Margo thought it could be the banshee coming to take us in the black coach. I hoped that was not the case; the banshee is notorious for bringing a warning of death. “Margo, where do you get these ideas?” Margo at first was offended: “I have no idea where or why I get them; I just do.” I thought about that for several seconds: “Margo, this is getting us nowhere. Let’s for one night forget about the banshees.” There was a clatter and a small being dressed in green scampered through the keyhole over the floor and through the wall. “What was that, Margo?” Margo turned with a strange look on her face: “That was one of the wee people, a leprechaun. The question is, do we chase him to the end of his rainbow and collect his gold?” I glared at Margo: “Oh, for goodness sake, Margo, if you think I am chasing some little green man all over Ireland, you are crazy.” Margo turned to face me: “he wants us to follow him; we could return home very wealthy women.” The thought of wealth was something very pleasant to think about. “Okay, Margo, let’s see if we can discover his pot of gold.” We opened the door to our room; the leprechaun jumped in glee. He ran down the path toward the wooded area; it seemed he had no intention of leading us anywhere. “Margo, he lost us, and we have no idea how far we have gone.” Margo, always ready with a reply: “That does appear to be a certainty; it might be wise to stay here until morning. It is dark now; we are lost. Did you bring anything to eat?” We sat under an English Oak tree. I felt around in my jacket pockets and found a few gum wrappers and a chocolate candy bar. Margo always kept a small bag of peanuts in her jacket pockets. We settled under the tree when a sudden gust of very cold wind blew over us. Margo and I sat mesmerized: a shrouded figure stood peering at us. Behind the figure was a black coach with six black horses. I thought of the legend of the banshee; she was an omen of death. Her pointer finger motioned us into the coach; I was determined neither of us was getting into that thing. The owner of the Hotel Shamrock became fearful that we were hurt and called the police. Flashlights burning brightly into our faces...we were safe at last. The things that went bump in the were left in Ireland; I hopefully. Margo and I returned to the United States. For our next ghost-hunting expedition, we are going to spend the night at the Menger Hotel in San Antonio, Texas.