Selected spooky stories from when I grew up in Ireland.



When I was twelve I shared an enormous bedroom in our house with my younger brother. It was called ‘The Blue Room’.

Every night without fail I would wake up hearing the door handle turn slowly and then the door itself opening into the room. Although I could not see, I could feel a slight draft as an object moved past my bed and then hear footsteps of someone walking around the room. After about five minutes the footsteps stopped at the end of my bed and there was silence until the presence walked slowly to the door and closed it behind him or her.

I was never scared as I recall, but it was annoying to experience night after night.

One night when the thing opened the door I sat up in bed and spoke to it, and I said ‘Please leave me alone alright? I have to get up early for school and I have had enough of you’.

From that night on it never came back again and I was free to sleep without being woken.



After school one day my mother told me that that morning she looked down to see a man in an old greatcoat standing in the hall below.

She initially thought it must be a relative named Major Terence Cronin-Coltsman who had lived in the house before we inherited it, but then lived in a retirement home.

Barrettstown Hall looking down

Calling down to him she asked ‘Terence, is that you?’  but the man did not move or answer her. By the time she walked down the long staircase he was no-where to be seen.



The day after we arrived to live in our new home in County Kildare my sister, myself, my older brother and Major Terence went for a walk to see the old stables.

There were about six loose-boxes for horses, garages for the old cars and two pretty two storey red-brick houses for the servants.

Around the back were the old pig styes which were in a sorry state and overgrown with weeds.

Suddenly, my sister who was nine then asked us all ‘Who is the little man there in a green coat who is smiling at me? He is right there in front of us’.

None of us could see him but we knew that what she had seen was the local leprechaun who had lived there for hundreds of years.

For more about him please read a story by clicking here.



Donkey and cart

An old farm-worker of ours named Paddy always traveled from his cottage to his work and back with his beloved donkey and cart.

I got on very well with him and was impressed that although he worked in the fields all day he always wore an old tweed jacket, white shirt and tie.

When he was on his tea break he would roll me an illicit cigarette and we would have a chat together. He told me this story.

‘Whenever I pass by the old graveyard on my way into Newbridge [our local town] in my cart the back of it is suddenly weighed down as if someone or two had jumped on for a free ride with us. It is them from the cemetary and usually happens on Saturday’s when the market is on. I wouldn’t mind but just when I am returning home the feckers jump on again.’






Coming soon .  .  .  .

More of my stories to come soon .  .  .  . but in the meantime please don’t hesitate to send me your own Irish ghost or fairy stories! Just post them with your full name and location in Ireland in the comments box at the bottom of this page. I will then put the best of them into a separate blog post giving you credit as the author.