from The Adventures of Nera

This creep story takes place at Rath Cruachan, where people say Halloween originated. It's best read out loud.

One Hallowe'en, in the palace of the King Ailill and Queen Mebh, all the people feasted and drank celebrating the holiday marking the end of harvest and the beginning of winter. The feasting hall at Rath Cruachan was warm and bright, and the night was long. King Ailill wanted entertainment, so he decided to challenge his warriors. 

Earlier that day, two captives had been hanged, and the King offered his gold-hilted sword to the warrior who could go out and tied a willow withe to the ankle of one of the dead men. The youngest warrior leaped up, saying he would do it in a flash, but he soon returned to the feasting hall, saying he saw spooks walking around outside, and he was too scared to tie the willow withe to the corpse’s ankle. Then the oldest warrior said he wasn’t afraid of spooks, and he would claim the gold-hilted sword. But he soon returned, saying he could hear great hungry cats howling outside the palace, and he was too afraid to tie a willow withe to the corpse’s ankle.

Finally, the warrior Nera said he would do it and claim the prize.

Nera went outside and held his eyes to the ground and saw no spooks. He hummed a tune and heard no cats. He went straight up the hill where the corpses hung. He tried three times to wrap the withe around the hanged man's ankle. But the withe was long and springy, and every time he tried to weave it in, the withe sprung open and lashed him in the face. Meanwhile, Nera thought he saw a spook creeping up the hill toward the gallows. He thought he heard a cat down around the other side of the hill.

But neither spooks nor cats scared him so much as when he heard a croaking, slimy voice above him. “Peg it to my ankle,” the voice said. Nera looked up and saw the face of the corpse looking down at him. With lips unmoving in the grimace of death, the corpse said, “Peg it to my ankle and you will win the prize.”

Nera did as the corpse suggested, and soon he fastened the withe to the corpse’s ankle with a peg. “Thank you,” Nera said, and turned back toward the feasting hall and his prize.

But he heard the ghastly voice say, “I was very thirsty when I was hanged. If you would like to repay me, take me to get a drink.” 

Nera really couldn’t refuse, and the moment he agreed, the corpse slipped the noose and fell on Nera’s back, wrapping his arms around Nera’s neck, and his long legs fast around Nera’s waist.

“Whither shall I carry thee?” asked Nera.

“Just to that nearest cottage,” said the corpse, his breath rank against Nera’s ear.

They approached the cottage, but the cottage was surrounded in a lake of fire.

“There is no drink for us in this house,” said the corpse. “They must have banked their fire as they are supposed to. Let us go to the next nearest house.”

Nera carried the corpse to the next cottage, its body heavy and cold against his back. But that house was surrounded in a lake of water. 

“There is no drink for us in this house,” said the corpse. “They must have thrown out the washing tub, the bathing tub, and slop pail before sleeping. Let us go to the next house.” And what could Nera do but obey because the corpse held tight around his neck and waist, its scratchy beard at his cheek.

“Now there is my drink in this house,” said the corpse, springing from Nera’s back and walking straight in through the door.

Inside the cottage a family was sleeping, the washing tub and the bathing tub and slop pail sitting on the floor. The corpse drank a draught from each the washing tub and the bathing tub, and spit the last sip at the faces of the sleeping family, so that they all died.

“Thank you very much,” said the corpse, and smacked his terrible lips.

“What now?” asked Nera, ready for anything, and hoping he would avoid the fate of the family dead in their beds.

“Return me to my reward,” said the corpse, and he sprang onto Nera’s back once more. Nera walked past the other two houses and to hanging place. When they got there, the corpse jumped up into the noose, and there he hung, with a withe around his ankle, never to speak, and never to drink again.

And this is why every night we take care to bank the fire and protect the house from the wandering dead. Every night we take care to throw out the washing tub, the bathing tub, and the slop pail, and protect the house from restless spirits.

The rule’s one exception is Hallowe’en night, where everyone banks their home fire and gathers together at one fireside. No one sleeps that long night, and we burn fuel from our own houses in the one fire together. And while we stay at the fire, singing and feasting, our beloved dead might join us, for on that night, they come back to us to comfort with memory.



The most cited source for this story is The Adventures of Nera, translated by Kuno Meyer. I also like the version told by James Slaven.

My favorite version is told by Chris Thompson and Isolde Carmody of Story Archeology podcast.  In another episode they tell the rest of Nera's adventures, that next happened to him on that magical night.