It was a moonlit night in the quiet village of Marghara, the stars were out shining in the sky like little flecks of hope. Undisturbed by the comings and goings of the tiny folk under their twinkling lights.
The village was dark save for the little windows beaming firelight. In one of the houses of said windows, there lived a little boy, a very nosy little boy who would often defy his parents wishes.
At their desperation they decided to leave him be from all his plans. Tonight he had a plan, he was going to investigate the old ruins near the village. He had to find out what was in the ruins and he told his parents what he planned to do.
His father often said “Rory! You’re a damned fool, but ye are nearly 14. If you are foolish enough to put yer nose into things then I won’t be fixing it!” Always the same answer more or less. Well Rory knew his limits, he knew how to survive.
Often he got out of trouble, he was wily.
He would mark out a way in to these castle ruins and find the treasure. He dreamed of treasure. Apparently. He heard from the drunken old boys, there was a tunnel in the ruins and deep down there would be mountains of gold and silver.
He couldn’t resist looking.
So he packed his trusty compass, a flaslight, pen and notebook and set off as the sun began to set. His parents fast asleep.
He began to walk past the village and through the woods. He walked for an hour or so until he came to a clearing. He loved how everything had a story to tell. Here in the forest the myths and legends of old Ireland swirled in his mind.
He saw the Hawthorne tree not 500 yards away and remembered a story about a boy that went missing about 50 years ago from some village nearby. Apparently a leprechaun had got to him and he was never seen again.
He heard tell of strange creatures that roamed around the forest, friendly and horrendous of allsorts. Rory was a believer, he knew the woods were alive and there was magic in the air.
His flashlight still on he walked past the Hawthorne tree and for another hour he finally came to the ruins. It was pitch black. How magnificent were these ruins! How beautiful it might have been when it was built!
He searched around the perimeter of the sunken courtyard, almost looked like boats in a sea of fauna. Rory heard twigs snapping to the side of him and then to his other side.
He panicked and turned his flashlight to his left.
Turned to his right and still nothing. He shrugged and carried on but some strange sensation happened, he felt like he was being watched.
“Who goes there?” He said confidently.
He walked on around the side and he heard the twigs snapping. This time some small grubby fingers touched his arm, he recoiled in horror. He fell to the ground in his panic.
When he looked up with his torch what he saw terrified him. A goblin.
A goblin with a huge bulbous nose, small beady eyes and a furry body. The arms and legs were small in comparison to its bulky body. Not only that but there were 50 or so more behind this one.
“Intruder! No pass!” Rasped a stony voice.
But in a flash Rory was knocked out, a goblin club came crashing onto his head.