Member-only story
The Lamentable Reoccurrence of Tadhg Mac Mullaghmore
A short horror story
Within a mighty castle, sat atop great Benbulbin, once lived a young lad by the name of Tadhg Mac Mullaghmore. A boy righteous, with fourteen winters behind him and son to the Marquess of Sligo John Mac Mullaghmore, he spent many a season alone with naught but his books and thoughts. Thick walls of stone are cold and hold little in the way of comfort; a reality the young sir had come to terms with long ago.
Ever studious and curious, Tadhg peered upon a bright horizon and oft did seek to expand his knowledge. Through rosy tints he kept his eyes in the pages, studying the history of his homeland and the various flora and fauna found therein. He took great interest in the surrounding County, particularly its wild animals. You see the boy had never — not once — been allowed to leave the immediate vicinity of his father’s fortress. Painfully sheltered, for what good reason he knew not, he frequently dreamed of venturing out into the wilderness beyond the great plateau. Alas, for as much as Tadhg begged, and as much as Tadhg pleaded, his stoic father would hear none of it.
“Only great misfortune lies beyond our crested home,” the Lord would say. “And dark things beyond your innocent comprehension.”
