Page 12 - COBH EDITION 2nd NOVEMBER DIGITAL VERSION

The Bonfire at Cushendall…by Trish

Halloween is one of my favourite times of the year. I
wouldn’t call it a holiday, but it is a celebration of Samhain, of
the harvest, of lost souls and of all the things that could be! I
love the pagan idea of Halloween and the Mexican Dia de los
Muertos, the blurring of the lines between life and death, of
what’s real and what isn’t, of what’s logical and fantastical; how
our imaginations can run wild for a day and scare the bejesus out
of ourselves.

Writing the book, the Celtic folklore behind it meant that I defi-
nitely wanted Halloween to play a part and it does in a subtle way
in Chapter 34 with the Bonfire at Cushendall. Sometimes the fear
inside us is worse than the actual danger that faces us, but when
you combine the two and come face to face with your fear the
result can be terrifying.
Just a little snippet of that chapter below.

Hope you enjoy and wishing you a Sona Oiche Shamhna (Happy Halloween)
She pushed the main door and went out into the cool night air. It was busy, much busier than
she had expected. People were moving past her quickly towards the end of the street. She
couldn’t see any faces, the crowd were dressed in black and many wore masks or had ghoul-
ish faces. She felt like she had stepped into another world, a horror movie. The crowd was
pulsating and chanting, all moving in the one direction and she was swept along with them.
Bodies swarmed around her and she felt uncomfortable, but she feared if she stopped she’d
be knocked over and trampled. Ahead of her she could see a bonfire blazing and the crowd
gathering around it. As she was carried towards it she could feel the heat and the atmosphere
intensify, images of one of her nightmares flashed in her head. The heat was something she
knew and it turned her stomach. All around her she saw strange faces, images of death. She
felt boxed in and suffocated, her head began to spin.
She turned to leave but was pushed even closer to the fire by the boisterous movements of
a group of young skeletons behind her. She lost her footing and felt herself falling until she
caught the back of the person in front of her. They turned angrily and Saoirse was greeted by
a grotesque half- eaten face, who swiped at her hand, glared and walked on. Saoirse’s breath
caught. She needed to get back to the hotel. Looking anxiously around her, she tried to get
her bearings. Her gaze fell on a face she recognized and she froze. He was here. At the other
side of the bonfire.
He stared back intently, the flames distorting his dark face. Her heartbeat quickened, fear
grew inside her, but she was stuck, and couldn’t seem to break His stare. He smirked back,
knowingly. His glare grew more intense and Saoirse began to panic. Over the roar of the
flames and the shouting of the crowd Saoirse heard His deep voice shout at her: ‘You! You
don’t belong here!’
She felt His words inside her head. They bounced around inside her skull and made her feel
dizzy. His stare penetrated her and made her skin crawl. He stood holding her in his gaze and
she felt herself moving closer to the flames.
Suddenly she was falling towards the bonfire, rushing towards the unbearable heat. She heard
Him laugh and then just as quickly she felt a hand on her, tugging her back away from the
flames and she was standing on her feet again. Margaret was standing next to her, still clutch-
ing the back of her jacket firmly in her hand.