Creepy Chronicles of Colaiste Chiarain

A​ ​Halloween​ ​in​ ​the​ ​countryside​ ​by​ ​Keeley​ ​Hogan
17:50​ ​October​ ​27th:
“I’m​ ​off,”​ ​shouted​ ​my​ ​mam​ ​from​ ​the​ ​front​ ​door.​ ​“Where​ ​to?”​ ​I​ ​shouted
back​ ​from​ ​my​ ​twin​ ​sister​ ​and​ ​I’s​ ​bedroom.​ ​“Town,”​ ​she​ ​said.​ ​I​ ​walked
out​ ​to​ ​the​ ​top​ ​of​ ​the​ ​stairs​ ​“What’s​ ​on​ ​in​ ​town?”​ ​I​ ​asked.​ ​“Nothing,​ ​but
the​ ​owner​ ​of​ ​the​ ​fruit​ ​and​ ​veg​ ​shop​ ​near​ ​the​ ​church,​ ​Tom​ ​Murphy,
passed​ ​away​ ​last​ ​week​ ​so​ ​I’m​ ​going​ ​into​ ​town​ ​for​ ​all​ ​the​ ​shopping
now.”​ ​“Oh​ ​right,​ ​will​ ​you​ ​be​ ​long?”​ ​I​ ​asked.​ ​“Only​ ​about​ ​an​ ​hour,”​ ​she
said.​ ​“Can​ ​I​ ​go​ ​call​ ​for​ ​Séamus​ ​when​ ​you're​ ​gone?”​ ​I​ ​asked.​ ​“No​ ​the
O'Donnell's​ ​are​ ​still​ ​on​ ​holidays​ ​till​ ​tomorrow​ ​night,”​ ​she​ ​said​ ​as​ ​she
picked​ ​up​ ​her​ ​handbag,​ ​“Call​ ​me​ ​if​ ​there's​ ​any​ ​trouble,”​ ​she​ ​said​ ​as​ ​she
was​ ​walking​ ​out​ ​the​ ​door.
I​ ​went​ ​back​ ​into​ ​the​ ​bedroom​ ​and​ ​my​ ​sister​ ​Alanna​ ​was​ ​staring​ ​at
something​ ​out​ ​the​ ​window.​ ​“What​ ​is​ ​it?”​ ​I​ ​asked.​ ​“Just​ ​look,”​ ​she
replied.​ ​It​ ​looked​ ​to​ ​be​ ​a​ ​man​ ​with​ ​a​ ​bike​ ​sitting​ ​down​ ​in​ ​a​ ​field​ ​beside
the​ ​lake,​ ​he​ ​had​ ​a​ ​bag​ ​at​ ​his​ ​leg​ ​and​ ​he​ ​seemed​ ​to​ ​be​ ​eating​ ​a​ ​sandwich,
“So?”​ ​I​ ​asked.​ ​My​ ​sister​ ​being​ ​a​ ​straight​ ​A​ ​student​ ​though​ ​used​ ​her
knowledge​ ​and​ ​curiosity​ ​to​ ​point​ ​out​ ​“It’s​ ​a​ ​Friday​ ​evening,​ ​most
people​ ​would​ ​want​ ​to​ ​be​ ​on​ ​the​ ​couch​ ​and​ ​having​ ​a​ ​cuppa​ ​tea​ ​with
their​ ​feet​ ​up​ ​and​ ​no​ ​one​ ​but​ ​Mrs.​ ​Monroe​ ​lives​ ​around​ ​here​ ​and​ ​her?
On​ ​a​ ​bike?​ ​I​ ​don't​ ​think​ ​so,”​ ​she​ ​said.​ ​Mrs.​ ​Monroe​ ​was​ ​a​ ​woman​ ​well
in​ ​her​ ​eighties​ ​who​ ​doesn’t​ ​really​ ​talk​ ​to​ ​anyone​ ​but​ ​the​ ​mailman.
“How​ ​rude!​ ​Don't’​ ​say​ ​things​ ​like​ ​that,”​ ​I​ ​told​ ​her.​ ​“....also​ ​that​ ​field​ ​he’s
in​ ​is​ ​owned​ ​by​ ​Tom​ ​Murphy,”​ ​she​ ​told​ ​me.​ ​“And?”​ ​“And​ ​it’s​ ​trespassing,
we’ll​ ​have​ ​to​ ​keep​ ​an​ ​eye​ ​on​ ​‘em,”​ ​she​ ​said.”​ ​“We?​ ​You​ ​do​ ​what​ ​you
want​ ​I’m​ ​not​ ​wasting​ ​my​ ​time​ ​to​ ​stalk​ ​a​ ​loner​ ​who​ ​cycles​ ​places​ ​just​ ​to
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