An Irish teen gets the fright of his life one night at home during a gale storm. He sees a pale white shrouded arm extend into his room. He later finds out that it may have been a faerie vision.
I received the following account:
"Hello. I grew up on the west coast of Ireland, in County Galway. One night when I was around 16 years of age I woke up in the middle of a gale with rain pelting the windows and wind whistling through the cracks.
Now on this night, there was only myself, my mother, and my sisters inside the house as my father was away minding the cattle due to it being calving season. Normally I'd be helping him out, birthing calves and the like, but not so on this night.
We had these spotlights to illuminate the outside of the house and one of these spotlights shone directly up into my window and even with the curtains closed it would lighten up the room. The shadows of branches and long blades of grass would project onto the ceiling and the gale being what it was caused a frantic wildness to characterize this night's shadow play.
I watched the shadows on the ceiling and listened to the wind roar outside for a short while. In fairness, though, I was busting to relieve myself. So I sat up to take off my blanket and looked over at the door.
My view of the door was such that I couldn't from my bed see into the hallway unless the door was wholly ajar. The door was only slightly cracked.
But it was open enough to allow the width of a human arm. And there extending into the room was just that.
The arm was pale white and judging by the shape of the hand on the end of it appeared to be female. It had a classic shroud-like sleeve ending a few inches before the wrist. It waved palm-side down for about five seconds and then retracted.
Now the gale and the lights and shadows and all that was bearable. Even the arm and hand would've been grand enough, I could've pegged it down to that sleep paralysis. But Jesus Christ the way that arm retracted back into the hallway. And the way the door handle moved downwards as the arm retracted and the way the door slammed after it.
I couldn't breathe. The way the door closed made me sweat. I began to roar and shout and managed to get my bedside lamp on and covers off and began running around the room, opening the door of the hallway into nothingness, not a soul awake in the house besides myself and the ghost. I ran at 16 years of age into the mother's room roaring my arse off about ghosts and she woke up and blearily told me to shut up, you'll wake your sisters.
Well, I calmed down and slept on the floor in my mother's room that night.
Now that house had been built by my parents. No one had died in it, nothing else even slightly paranormal happened in that house before or since.
A few weeks later though I was talking to the neighbor, an old alcoholic bachelor who had lived in the area his entire life. I told him about the ghost and his wiry smile got wider and he laughed.
'Well, sure isn't that bit of land your folks built that house on called 'Cnóc na Sí' by the old people of the village. And sure in Irish doesn't that mean 'Hill of the Faeries'." P
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