The Banshee: Gaelic name for The Fairy Woman who has been known to wail for the departing souls of certain families in Ireland. Her mournful cry can be heard hovering directly above the home as the soul of the deceased is released from its earthly habitation and it progresses skywards until out of range of normal earshot.
The night The Banshee cried for me was also the night I had my first victory… that seems to be a contradiction in terms because normally the Fairy Woman only cries for someone whose soul is departing this earthly existence to its eternal reward, hopefully into the home of his creator. But who or what the great creator is we do not know. Is it a kind and compassionate being who will welcome its children back home where they will be rewarded when they have completed their terms of enlightenment on their allocated planet or will the creator turn out to be something so horrible that we cannot envisage? We can but hope for the best because nobody comes back to this world after The Banshee cries for them, or do they… I know I did?
It was the night my Uncle Pat passed away… September 22nd 1950. I remember the date well because it was also my birthday. I would be twelve years old when I awoke the next morning…but I almost didn’t make it although I didn’t recall much of the event until much later, in fact I’m still remembering and putting pieces together after so many decades. I reckon that’s the way they planned it, a gradual reawakening so as not to place too much burden on my all too simple brain. But let’s go back to that night and to my close encounter with beings that may be the real creators.
Uncle Pat was a man who always kept an open mind about things he didn’t understand. He was an avid listener and did not scoff at those who told tales of night terrors and encounters with whatever evil was abroad in the hours of darkness. Pat would just nod his head in agreement as if he had firsthand knowledge of what they were describing and he would then relate one of his own escapes from the demons of darkness. He could if given a few beers and the right encouragement talk for many hours of the unusual experiences he had endured in his almost eighty years of life on Earth. It seems he was constantly aware of some unseen presence and it had nothing to do with religion… Pat was not overly inclined although he was a regular churchgoer, but they were all regular churchgoers when I was a youngster. No matter what your other beliefs may be… you went to church often and whenever required. That was village life and nobody acted differently.
Pat had often talked about The Banshee and the unusual fact that she only cried for certain families. He had learnt about her from his grandfather who explained that there were special people in each of the families who had been given certain powers over and above the normal. There was always at least one member of those households who had some form of special gift not usually given to others. Some had the gift to be natural healers who were able to help their fellow humans overcome the many obstacles they would encounter in everyday life. Others were adept at treating animals and they would always know what to do in a crisis at a time when domestic animals were of great importance to the poor people. Some had beautiful voices and were singers and teachers of poetry and song whilst others were natural community leaders with the ability to make correct decisions for the betterment of the village people. All were poorly educated in the strict sense of the word, they had but a very basic education but they were a vital part of rural life at a time before technology ruled everything, but they each had The Special Gift.
Somewhere amongst that lot Uncle Pat had a position although it was sometimes questionable as to what that position really was. He could be best described as a man of many parts a sort of Jack of All Trades in that he was not afraid to try out new ideas and was always there to lend a hand to anyone who might be in trouble. He had many fine qualities he was kind and friendly, generous and helpful to all, and it might be expected The Banshee would cry as his soul departed it’s human receptacle to his eternal reward. And She did cry for Uncle Pat but the downside was… I was taken as well.
Uncle Pat’s health had deteriorated rapidly once Parkinson’s disease had taken away his independence and made him totally reliant on others and I believe he was ready to pass on. He indicated to me several times that he had done all that was expected of him and it was almost the time to go to his reward. He had fathered no offspring of his own so I was almost like a son to him; he was my mentor and good friend and he taught me a lot of life skills that I can still call on today. That last day when we talked he told me his time was near and he gave me a few final words of encouragement, he explained that we are all called to do something special in this life and even if we feel that we are not worthy we are here for a purpose and we must try to do the best we can…if we do, then we will be rewarded. Later that evening he received the Last Rites from Fr O’Malley and he was not expected to see the next day dawn.
Sometime around midnight as I lay sleeping in an adjoining room he passed away peacefully in his sleep but I awoke to feel my spirit being pulled from my body and dragged towards the brilliant white light in the sky. The wailing screaming noise of some powerful tractor beam as it transported my soul to its destiny was weird and unearthly and it did indeed resemble the sound of a woman crying. Could it be The Cry Of The Banshee?
Then I found that I was in a room that appeared to be a hospital operating theatre… my spirit was lodged in a container that resembled a large medicine bottle and from somewhere quite close I heard gruff voices arguing loudly in words that I could barely understand.
“You have mucked it up again. Sooose! You’ve taken two when only one was scheduled… can’t you ever get it right?”
“Don’t always blame me… it’s this old equipment we have to put up with, I can never guarantee accuracy because everything is clapped out and outdated. It’s not my fault Baaass”
“Don’t blame the computer. Sooose! They don’t make the mistakes…but we do and now we have a big problem, what to do with this one.”
“We can abort him into space Baaass or we can send him below like we did to them older ones that we took last week. I reckon that’s the best idea, I’m sure Satan would be delighted to get a young one like this.”
“Well we must do something and quick before he wakes up…this one is very young indeed, there could be problems…why can’t you be more careful Sooose?”
Then as the voices grew louder and nearer I could see the characters who were plotting my future existence. They were two of the ugliest looking beings that I could ever imagine, more animal-like than human. Short skinny bodies covered in thick fur, a large head with bulging eyes; above the eyes they had two vicious-looking short horns. Their arms were skinny and abnormally long giving them an apelike appearance. I couldn’t see their feet but I could imagine cloven hoofs. They were obviously intelligent discounting their nasty appearance and they were about to cast judgement on my immortal soul.
The heated argument continued between the two horrible creatures and I was helpless to avoid whatever fate they were planning for me.
Then I heard another voice, a voice so strong and powerful as to fill the room and to cause the two horrors to fall prostrate onto the floor in fear or respect.
“You will send this one back to Earth immediately, prepare for his safe return and make no mistakes this time.” The booming voice commanded to be obeyed.
“This one is special, he will work for us. We will instruct him and guide him as we have done to many others before. He is young and has potential and he can go far, he can be very valuable to us…send him back at once.”
I awoke from that peculiar dream or nightmare to learn that my Uncle Pat had died whilst I slept the blissful sleep of youth and The Banshee had wailed twice that night. The neighbours reckoned Pat was indeed extra special.
Over the years as I have remembered bits and pieces of the strange event I have been able to comprehend the true meaning of the Wailing Fairy Woman. As for my potential I’m not sure if I have succeeded as they had planned but I am still here still doing what must be done. I try to do my best always and I have had a few successes along the way but that first win when I was 12 years old was sweet victory indeed.