by R J Darby
A changing can also be an elderly fairy disguised as an infant.
Finally, a changeling can be an object made to look like an infant by fairy magic.
In all forms, changelings have wrinkled, yellow skin and screech all day and night. This is another reason that they are often exchanged for quieter, prettier human babies, leaving the mortals to raise them in their awkward and agitated state.
Changelings feed on good fortune and find joy in having disaster strike their unknowingly adoptive family. Often these incidents are caused by the changeling themselves for the sake of their own twisted sense of amusement. They a truly any parent’s worst nightmare.
. As the changelings grow, they are drawn towards instruments. They have a mesmerising skill that causes anyone who hears them play become entranced by the ethereal beauty of their musical prowess. Some legends also include singing in this category as well as external instruments.
Far Darrig
/fɑː dɑː rɪɡ/
Noun
The Far Darrig is a faerie of Irish mythology. The name Far Darrig is an Anglophone pronunciation of the Irish words "Fear Dearg," meaning "Red Man," as the Far Darrig is said to wear a red coat and cap.
Far Darrigs, meaning 'red man,' are a type of fairy closely related to the leprechaun. They are identified by their red caps and matching capes. Like leprechauns, they could easily be mistaken for friendly creatures, but this is far from the truth. Again, these fairies are practical jokers.
Far Darrigs carries a human-sized burlap sack around, ready to kidnap people with it. They trap their victims in a room and use their ventriloquist skills to project inhuman noises around their victim, putting them into a living nightmare that resembles some human world forms of torture. This may be why they are associated with bad dreams in general. One of the more upsetting and frightening noises which they can make is the laugh of a dead man.They often make to such noise to traumatize their victim..
It is said that you can avoid these kinds of torturous sounds by saying, "You will not mock me" before you are trapped. This is harder than it may seem however, as Far Darrigs are highly skilled in setting their traps and by the time the victim realizes what is going on, it is already past that point.
Far Darrigs have also been connected to the stealing of human babies to be replaced with changelings.
Fear Gorta
/fɪə ɡɔː tɑː/
Noun
A phantom of hunger resembling an emaciated human. According to Yeats' Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry, the fear gorta walks the earth during times of famine, seeking alms from passers-by.
Fear gorta are similar to zombie legends in the fact that they appear as walking corpses with an insatiable hunger. With their protruding bones, deathly skinniness, blueish skin, and rotting flesh they truly are a terrifying sight.
There are some major differences, though. Fear gorta are capable of speech, though this may be a mockery, as they will appear in the time of famine asking whoever they encounter for food. Those who give the fear gorta food are rewarded with lifelong wealth and prosperity; those who do not will suffer bad luck and poverty. The moral of the story is to always share; however it has a cruel twist. In these times, food is hard to come by, and it may be that there is no food to share with a fear gorta.
There is another story stating that the fear gorta is a cursed patch of grass above a grave, and anyone who steps on it is cursed with eternal hunger. If this hunger is not met with food, the person will die, which is generally the case for these cursed souls.
Dullahan
/ˈduːləˌhɑːn/
Noun
A type of fairy in Irish mythology which serves as a death omen.
The Dullahan is a death omen which appears as a headless man riding a black horse wearing a black cape. In his left hand, is a human spine for a whip, and in the right, he holds his grinning head, presumably his own or that of one of his victims.
The Dullahan will ride to the area in which the death will take place and call the name of the soon to be deceased. There have been countless documented reports of Dullahan sightings right before a local death incident; making this one of the more feared legends.
Dullahan does not take kindly to onlookers, and it is said that if a Dullahan catches you looking directly at him, there will be severe consequences. He will either blind the onlooker in one eye using his whip or cover them in blood. This is not the only consequence of looking at a Dullahan. There will be consequences on the innocent people around too, as the Dullahan will make a random kill. Legend has it that whenever a person sees a still Dullahan, then someone in the area will die imminently. The Dullahan will hold his head up high in any direction to make the kill.
The Abhartach
/ˈawəɾˠt̪ˠax/
Proper noun
An early Irish legend, which was first collected in Patrick Weston Joyce's The Origin and History of Irish Names of Places (1875).
There was once a magical dwarven tyrant who enforced great cruelties on his people. Thankfully he was killed, but for ritualistic reasons, he was buried standing up. The next day the dwarf emerged from the grave, using his magical powers. Angered and seeking revenge he was raised more cruel and vicious than ever. Fortunately, very few have been in the line of his destruction since his return. This does not, however, make him any more acceptable. He is, in fact, more fearful in his waking dead form.
Abhartach has been known to drink the blood of his victims. Some say that he is the inspiration behind Dracula; however blood-drinking beast dates back far beyond this; usually in regards to the Occult or cannibalism, making his connotations even darker.
There is only one way to stop the Abhartach; he must be killed and buried upside down. Of course, there are no legends of this having been tried or tested, leaving this fix as a mere theory and Abhartach wandering freely with deadly intent.
Aos Si
/eːsˠ ˈʃiː/
Noun
A fairy of the Sidhe category in Irish folklore
Many of the creatures of Irish folklore can be categorized as different types of fairies, and the most prevalent of the bunch — and those that still inspire the most belief — are the Aos Sí.
Irish for “people of the mounds,” the Aos Sí are a race of fae folk said to live in the mounds that are common across the Irish countryside.
Often invisible, but capable of appearing as (usually beautiful) humans, the Aos Sí can cause all kinds of problems for anyone that should be foolish enough to mess with their homes. Some common consequences include bringing illness and bad luck. Because of this, it’s not uncommon to hear about sacred fairy trees or fairy rings that locals make sure to steer clear of.
Fairy rings are also associated with disappearance and death, and suspicions about stepping within them are still abided by in Great Britain and Ireland.
Sluagh
/sˠl̪ˠuə/
Noun
The Sluagh are the spirits of the restless dead. Sometimes they were seen as sinners or generally evil people without purpose
Sluaghs are restless spirits that wander the countryside in search of souls who will join in their misery. They are sadly unable to find a home in the afterlife, whether this is because they fought death, had unfinished business, or were cursed by a witch, but there are many ways that a lost spirit can become a Sluagh.
Their human self is not the only form in which they can appear. They may also appear as an unnaturally giant flock of birds. A Sluagh in any form will always approach from the West. They are on the lookout for anyone near death whose soul they can claim to join their flock full of misery. Smart families always keep their western-facing windows closed, just in case they should come by; fearing a trapped eternity with these creatures bound by perpetual loneliness.
Caoranach
/kaʊranʊtʃ/
Noun
Irish mythological being. This monstrous serpent lived in
the waters of lough derg. Often known as the mother of demons.
In Celtic folklore, Caoranach is a monstrous female serpent who is said to be the mother of all demons and monsters. Much is written on the subject. Curiously, Ireland is a land that lacks snakes, but paintings of Caoranach often depict her being partially snake. It is more likely, given the history of Celtic lore, that the serpent part of her was more likely to be dragon related to her origins.
Caoranach is supposed to have lived in Lough Derg, an Irish lake that is home to the famous Christian pilgrimage site, Station Island. It is well known for a legend in which Jesus revealed to Saint Patrick a cave that was supposed to be an entrance to Hell, again linking to the demonic associations of Caoranach. Furthermore, adding to her evil by similarities to Lilith; the biblical mother of demons with serpentine qualities who is trapped in purgatory, adjacent to hell. Saint Patrick himself is said to have slain (or more accurately banished) Caoranach after doing battle with her for two days and two nights in the murky waters of Lough Derg. The name Lough Derg of which, incidentally, means 'Dark Lake.' The widely accepted theory is that this name references the darkening of the lake as it filled with the defeated Caoranach’s blood.
In one version of the story, Saint Patrick was actually swallowed whole by Caoranach and was forced to escape by puncturing her side with his crosier. This gives an eerie similarity to that of Beowulf. After defeating the monster Grendel, Beowulf proceeds to the lair of Grendel’s mother (who is also sometimes translated as being the mother of all monsters depending on the version of the poem). This also happens under a lake. Diving down to an underwater cave, Beowulf slays Grendel’s mother and returns to his men triumphant. Could these stories have a common source? Or as Beowulf was a renowned adventurer, was this indeed the same demon? We may never know, but it is interesting how many Norse legends appear to correlate with Celtic ones.
Master Stoorworm
/ˈmɑːstə stɔː wəːm/
Noun
A dragon of myth in Celtic folklore
Following on with the serpentine theme, Master Stoorworm is one of the most prominent dragons in Celtic mythology. Master Stoorworm was a gigantic sea serpent (again, something which was mentioned in the travels of Beowulf) who always ate too much.
The similarities end here, as Stoorworm is much less threatening. His story follows that every morning he would yawn seven times. The town that this always happened near became tired of this because when he yawned his tongue would dart out and snatch up seven random things from the town.A meeting was held, and it was decided that anyone who slew the dragon would get to marry the King’s daughter. A group of men came forth to try but were frightened away by Master Stoorworm. There are notably no accounts of death on his part. A feat that separates him from other sea dragons in theological legends such as the leviathan.
Peisteanna
** origin unknown
The Peisteanna are monstrous beasts occasionally encountered in the early literary traditions of Ireland, Scotland, and the Isle of Man, particularly in those stories concerned with the lives or adventures of famous Medieval saints. They are usually presented as subterranean or lake-dwelling creatures, especially on the lake-bed, and the name itself is derived from the Latin word beistia “beast” rather than any indigenous term suggesting an external source.
Grogoch
/ɡrɒɡʊtʃ/
Noun
Half-human and half fairy aboriginals who came to Ireland from Scotland
A Grogoch is a half-man, half-fairy aborigine who originally came from Scotland and settled in Ireland. Whether this legend has any foundation beyond feuding countries creating xenophobia through propaganda and stories originating from their rival country remains a mystery.
Written accounts of sightings are particularly common in North Antrim, Rathlin Island, parts of Donegal, and the Isle of Man.
They are best described as a very small, elderly man with a full coat of thick reddish fur or hair. The Grogoch wears no clothes but instead sports a collection of dirt and twigs which it accumulates on its journeys, adding to it's barbarian and uncouth nature. Needless to say, these scruffy creatures are not well known for their cleanliness. It is worth noting that there have been no reported sightings of female grogoches, only males. This could also link to invading forces who would have been predominantly male, given the genre expectations of the time.
Despite Ireland's wet and often chilly climate, grogoches seem to be quite content to make their homes in caves or hollows in the landscape, temperatures that would be suited to their homeland. It is said that they also are unperturbed by dry, sweltering conditions. Essentially they are hardy and adaptable creatures.
A legend from the northern countryside of Ireland, says that the many leaning stones are linked to grogoches. Such stones are rumored to be a signal that a grogoch lives nearby. Though we now know that many are of Pagan origin, there is no evidence to say that they were not placed in such seemingly random places to mark out the grogoches.
Unexpectedly grogoches are also part of the fairy family. These fairies possess the power of invisibility and will only reveal themselves to you if they deem you trustworthy. Though this coupled with their preference for remote rural dwellings, may make them seem unsociable, but they are actually quite the opposite. If a Grogoch takes a shine to you, it will attach itself to you and follow you home. Don't worry, though: it only wants to help you with your planting and harvesting, or other forms of housework. All it requests in return is a jug of fresh cream.
It is said that the eager little fellow will scamper about your kitchen looking for odd jobs to tend to, and although it means well, it will undoubtedly get in the way quite often. This is the sort of chaos caused by other fairy tricksters, though notably without the malicious intent of other kinds.
Similar to most fairies, grogoches are terrified of the clergy and will keep their distance from any home where it expects to find a clergy member. If a person suspects that they have a Grogoch as an unwanted visitor in their home, it is best to ask a clergy member to bless the residence. This will drive away the sprite, proceeding to bother someone else.
Leaves Falling in A Quiet Place
A book of spirit, soul, and sorrow in Ireland
Chapter One
A Noise In A Quiet Place
The scent of rainwater seeping through the earth trickled into Rowan's burrow; perking his nostrils and rousing a smile on his slumbering face. Something deep within him, an ancestral memory that knew things which his physical body did not yet know, had his senses tingling. Being a leprechaun, he was well used to the laws of the land, and on any given day, he could predict the weather by the look of the sky. Even in sleep, his instincts knew that after the rain would be sunshine and that meant one thing; there would be a rainbow. Humans could rarely understand the true beauty of those fractals of light, never could they grasp the urge to travel there with an armful of glorious gold. Humans were more about taking than giving. It was no wonder that the leprechaun community of Áit chiúin (Locally known as the Quiet Place) stayed as far away from the greedy beasts as possible.
Rowan, named after the sacred tree of courage and wisdom, stirred in the early hours. Outside his windowless home, the sun had started to streak the sky, splitting the horizon with an expanding stripe. Smile slipped off his ruddy face like sticks left to float down the river by playing children. The relaxing sound of droplets soaking the land filled his ears, yet despite the soft sound, the warmth of his family home, and the potential for a rainbow, he had found himself tossing and turning. When he moved left, his elbow seemed bent; when he moved right, there was a tuft digging into his back. With a huff, Rowan sat up.
His eyes attuned to the low light within the burrow as he picked out the silhouette of his three children; Ivy, Basil, and Hawthorn. He gave somewhat of a grumble, but deciding that the best course of action was a cuddle with his loving wife, he turned over.
Naimh h
ad been his faithful companion for as long as he bothered to remember.
As he turned towards her, he recoiled. Her eyes were locked open like two gleaming emeralds amidst his pile of gold. For a few moments, he froze as still as a mouse backed into a corner by famished owls. The scene was one that would be scratched into his memory, as it had been the last time he had seen such an occurrence on her.
Naimh was as solid as an oak with her lips pushed together as if frozen. Her fingers and toes were curled tight as they gripped so tightly that white patches formed under the pressure. Lurid red lines drew themselves across her palms as her short nails put channels in her skin. There was a creak that extended outwards as her teeth grated together.
Rowan could do nothing but watch. She had always told him that when the nightmares come, it was important to wait them out. Except those were not nightmares, and Naimh has no choice but to watch the events unfold in the eyes of her minds.
The gorta are coming, pouring into the Quiet Place like a colony of ants tumbling over one another, and they pincer and nip their way through the blessed gifts of nature. The sun-kissed green of the Quiet Place is flushed by this moving shadow. Each blade of grass is plucked from the earth by careless feet, leaving a barren brown where lush fields were lost.
So much water is dragged through the streams that the waters turn to a murky mess. And then it turns darker – redder – bloodier. The life force of so many leprechauns is being dragged down the flow as meaningless to the gorta as dishwater tossed into a canal by humans far from this place.
