Each week, I send out a story via my email newsletter. Each story is around 1000 words, sometimes less, sometimes more. The stories are in a variety of genres: supernatural, thriller, sci-fi, horror, and sometimes romance, and all of my stories typically feature a gay protagonist.
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This is story number 16 of the series. Enjoy!
The Hound of Connemara
Lorcan O’Connor stepped off the bus in Clifden, County Galway, his backpack slung over one shoulder. The salty air of the Atlantic filled his lungs as he took in the quaint Irish town. At 28, Lorcan had finally saved enough for this solo trip to explore his roots. His boyfriend, Marco, had encouraged him to go, knowing how much it meant to Lorcan to connect with his heritage.
“You’re gonna love it there,” Marco had said, planting a kiss on Lorcan’s cheek before he left for the airport. “Just don’t fall for some cute Irish lad while you’re away.”
Lorcan chuckled at the memory as he made his way down the narrow streets. He found his bed and breakfast, a cozy little place run by an elderly woman named Mrs. Flanagan.
“Céad míle fáilte, mo chroí,” she said, her wrinkled face crinkling into a warm smile. “You’re just in time for tea.”
“Go raibh maith agat,” Lorcan replied, proud to use one of the few Irish phrases he knew.
Over a steaming cup and some freshly baked scones, Mrs. Flanagan regaled Lorcan with local tales and legends. One story, in particular, caught his attention.
“They say there’s a creature that roams the hills of Connemara,” she whispered, leaning in close. “A great hound with glowing eyes and fur as green as the hills themselves. The Cu Sith, they call it. Best not to be out after dark, especially if you hear three barks. That’s your only warning before it attacks.”
Lorcan nodded politely, but inwardly he rolled his eyes. He’d heard plenty of ghost stories growing up, and while they were fun, he didn’t put much stock in them. Still, as he settled into his room that night, he couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that had crept over him.
The next morning, Lorcan set out to explore the countryside. He hiked through rolling hills covered in heather, marveling at the rugged beauty of the landscape. As the day wore on, dark clouds began to gather overhead.
“Looks like rain,” he muttered to himself, quickening his pace. He’d strayed further from town than he’d intended, and the last thing he wanted was to get caught in a downpour.
The first drops began to fall as Lorcan crested a hill. In the distance, he spotted an old stone cottage. Perfect, he thought. He could wait out the storm there.
As he approached the cottage, a strange stillness fell over the area. The rain seemed to pause mid-air, and an unnatural fog rolled in. That’s when Lorcan heard it – a low, rumbling growl that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
He turned slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. There, emerging from the mist, was a creature straight out of a nightmare. It was massive, easily the size of a small horse, with shaggy fur the color of moss. Its eyes glowed an eerie green, fixed directly on Lorcan.
“Holy shit,” Lorcan whispered, his legs frozen in place.
The creature – the Cu Sith, Lorcan realized with a jolt – took a step forward. Its lips pulled back, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. Is was just as Mrs. Flanagan had described.
Lorcan’s survival instincts finally kicked in. He bolted for the cottage, his feet pounding against the wet grass. Behind him, he heard the Cu Sith give chase, its heavy paws thumping against the ground.
He reached the cottage door, yanking it open and throwing himself inside. Lorcan slammed the door shut just as the Cu Sith crashed against it, making the whole structure shake.
“This isn’t happening,” Lorcan gasped, his back pressed against the door. “This can’t be real.”
But the snarling and scratching on the other side of the door was all too real. Lorcan looked around frantically, searching for anything he could use as a weapon. The cottage was sparsely furnished, with only a few pieces of ancient-looking furniture.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, Lorcan noticed something odd. The far wall was covered in strange symbols and diagrams. In the center was a large, intricate circle drawn on the floor.
“What in the name of all that’s holy?” Lorcan muttered, momentarily distracted from the monster trying to break down the door.
He approached the circle cautiously, drawn by an inexplicable pull. As he got closer, the symbols seemed to shimmer and move, as if alive. Lorcan recognized some of them from his grandmother’s old books – Ogham, the ancient Irish alphabet used by druids.
Suddenly, the door burst open. The Cu Sith stood in the doorway, its massive form blocking out the light. It let out a bone-chilling howl that shook Lorcan to his core.
Without thinking, Lorcan jumped into the center of the circle. As soon as his feet touched the strange symbols, a blinding light erupted around him. The Cu Sith lunged forward, but it was as if it hit an invisible wall. It snarled and paced around the edge of the circle, unable to reach Lorcan.
“Okay, okay, think,” Lorcan said to himself, trying to calm his racing heart. “There’s got to be a way out of this.”
As if in response to his thoughts, one of the symbols on the wall began to glow. Lorcan squinted at it, realizing it looked like the Ogham symbol for oak.
“Is that… Dair?” he wondered aloud, recalling the Ogham lessons his grandmother had given him.
The symbol pulsed, and Lorcan felt a strange compulsion to speak it louder. “Dair,” he said hesitantly.
The moment the word left his lips, the Cu Sith let out a pained howl. Its form seemed to waver, like a mirage in the desert.
Emboldened, Lorcan looked at the next glowing symbol. “Tinne,” he said more confidently, recognizing the symbol for holly, associated with fire and energy.
The Cu Sith’s howl turned into a whimper. Its green fur began to fade, revealing glimpses of human skin underneath.
Lorcan’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “You’re not a monster,” he breathed. “You’re trapped, aren’t you?”
The creature’s eyes met his, and Lorcan saw the pain and desperation in them. Without hesitation, he began reading off the remaining symbols, his voice growing stronger with each word.
“Coll!” he shouted, invoking the power of the hazel tree, symbol of wisdom and creativity. “Muin!” The vine, representing inner knowledge and secrets. “Gort!” The ivy, symbolizing tenacity and growth.
With each word, the Cu Sith’s form shifted more and more until, finally, where the monster had stood was now a man. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
Lorcan cautiously stepped out of the circle and approached him. “Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling beside the stranger.
The man looked up, his green eyes (the same shade they’d been as the Cu Sith, Lorcan noticed) filled with tears. “Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ve been trapped in that form for… I don’t even know how long.”
“What happened to you?” Lorcan asked, helping the man to his feet.
“My name is Darragh,” he said. “I was a druid, centuries ago. I was cursed by a rival, transformed into that… that thing. Forced to terrorize the very people I once protected.” He shook his head, a look of shame crossing his face. “I’ve been waiting for someone to break the curse for so long.”
Lorcan’s mind reeled, trying to process everything that had happened. “But why me? How did I know what to do?”
Darragh smiled weakly. “The curse could only be broken by someone with druid blood who was pure of heart. You must have ancestors who were druids.”
“Huh,” Lorcan said, thinking of his grandmother’s stories about their family history. “I guess those old family legends weren’t so crazy after all. But what does it mean to have druid blood?”
Darragh’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “The druids were the keepers of knowledge, the bridge between the physical and spiritual worlds. They understood the deep connection between nature and magic. Having druid blood means you have the potential to tap into that ancient power, to see and interact with the hidden realms that most cannot perceive.”
Darragh looked around the cottage, his expression a mix of wonder and sadness. “I’m not sure I belong here. The world has changed so much. I don’t know if there’s a place for me anymore.”
“Hey, none of that talk now,” Lorcan said firmly. “We’ll figure something out. But first things first, let’s get you some proper clothes. You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.”
Darragh chuckled, the sound rusty from disuse. “I suppose I do at that. But Lorcan, you must understand – breaking this curse has consequences. The magical energy that bound me has been released. It will attract other supernatural beings to this area. And you… your latent druid abilities have been awakened. You’ll start to see and experience things others can’t.”
Lorcan felt a shiver run down his spine. “Like what?”
“The fae folk, for one,” Darragh said. “The spirits of the land. And not all of them are friendly.”
“And here I thought this was just going to be a nice holiday to connect with my roots.”
Darragh placed a hand on Lorcan’s shoulder. “I know it’s overwhelming, but you’re not alone. I can teach you, help you understand your heritage and your newfound abilities.”
Lorcan nodded, feeling a mix of fear and excitement. He pulled out his phone, grateful to see he had a signal. “Let me call my boyfriend. He’s not going to believe this.”
As Lorcan dialed Marco’s number, he couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He’d come to Ireland looking for a connection to his past, and boy, had he found it.
“Marco? Yeah, it’s me. You’re not going to believe what just happened. Remember how you joked about me falling for an Irish lad? Well…”
Darragh raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. As Lorcan launched into the story, he felt a warmth in his chest. He may have broken Darragh’s curse, but something told him this was just the beginning of a much bigger adventure. The ancient magic of Ireland had awakened in him, and nothing would ever be the same again.
The End