LITMIR.BIZ

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      Empty your heart of its mortal dream.

      The winds awaken, the leaves spin around,

      Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound[6],

      Our chests are moving, our eyes are shining,

      Our arms are waving, our lips are apart,

      And if anyone looks at our rushing band,

      We come between him and the deed[7] of his hand,

      We come between him and the hope of his heart.”

      The host is rushing between night and day;

      And where is there hope or deed as fair?

      Caolte tossing his burning hair,

      And Niamh calling, “Away, come away.”

      THIS BOOK

      I wanted to create a small world from the beautiful and meaningful things in this imperfect[8] world, and to show a little piece of Ireland to my own people. I have written down what I have heard and seen. I haven’t separated my beliefs from those of the common people. I have let my characters, including ghosts and fairies, go their own way. The things a person experiences are life’s memories, and anyone can interpret[9] them as they please. I have also interpreted them in my own way, but I will be happy as long as my interpretation suits me.

      A TELLER OF TALES

      Paddy Flynn told me many of the tales in this book. He lived in a small and leaky[10] cabin in Ballisodare[11] village. He described it as the most peaceful place in County Sligo. This place is filled with fairies. The first time I saw him, he was cooking mushrooms. The next time, he was sleeping under a hedge[12] with a smile on his face. He was always happy. But I could sense a hint of sadness in his eyes.

      And yet there was much in his life to depress[13] him, for his age, eccentricity, and deafness, and the children were constantly bothering him. Probably that’s why he always advised to be happy and hope for the best.

      I wrote down Paddy Flynn’s stories and words in my notebook after meeting him. I feel sad looking at the empty pages at the end that will never be filled. Paddy Flynn passed away[14]. A friend of mine gave him a big bottle of whiskey, and even though he was usually not a heavy drinker[15], he got really excited from this gift, and he didn’t stop drinking for a few days until he passed away. His body was tired from old age and difficult times, and it couldn’t handle the alcohol like it did when he was young.

      BELIEF AND UNBELIEF

      Some people in the western villages have doubts. Last Christmas, a woman told me that she didn’t believe in hell or ghosts. She thought that hell was made up by the priest[16] to make people behave, and she didn’t think ghosts could freely walk the earth. But she believed in fairies, leprechauns[17], kelpies[18], and fallen angels. I also met a man with a tattoo of a Mohawk Indian on his arm who had similar beliefs and doubts. He said that people never doubt that fairies are real.

      A young girl who worked in the village of Grange, near the slopes of Ben Bulben[19],disappeared one night around three years ago. People said that the fairies had stolen her.

      A village resident tried to stop them from taking her. But he ended up with nothing in his hands except a broomstick[20]. The villagers asked the constable[21] for help, and he immediately started searching every house. He also advised the villagers to burn all the ragweed[22] on the field where the girl disappeared because ragweed is sacred[23] to the fairies. They spent the whole night burning the ragweed while the constable said special words. In the morning, they found the little girl walking in the field. She said that the fairies had taken her very far away, riding on a magical horse. Eventually, she saw a big river, and the man who tried to save her was floating down the river in a small boat.

      MORTAL[24] HELP

      Long ago in stories, men were taken away to assist the gods in a battle. Cuchullan[25] helped the goddess Fand’s[26] to defeat another nation and gained her favor. I’ve also heard that the fairies folk can’t even play their game called hurley[27] unless they have a mortal on each team. Without the help of mortals, the fairies folk are weak and cannot even hit the balls. One day, me and my friend were walking on some marshy[28] land in Galway when we saw an old, tough-looking man digging a ditch. My friend had heard that this man had seen something amazing. And eventually we get this story from him. When he was a young boy, he was working with around thirty other men, women, and boys. They were near Tuam[29], not too far from Knock-na-gur. Suddenly, they all saw about one hundred and fifty fairies folk from a distance of around half a mile. There were two of them, he said, in dark clothes like people of our own time, who stood about a hundred yards from one another. The others wore colorful clothes.

      He could not see what they were doing, but it seemed like they have been playing hurley. Sometimes they would disappear, and then they came back out of the bodies of the two men in dark clothes. These two men were of the size of living men, but the others were small. He saw them for about half-an-hour, and then the old man he was working for said, “Get on, get on, or we will have no work done!” I asked if he saw the fairies too, “Oh, yes, but he did not want work he was paying wages for to be neglected[30].” He made everybody work so hard that nobody saw what happened to the fairies.

      A VISIONARY[31]

      One evening a young man came to my house and started talking about the creation of the earth and heaven and many other things. He had written many poems and painted many mystical drawings. But lately he hadn’t written or painted anything. He feared that the emotional life of the artist was bad for him. However, he willingly recited[32] his poems. Suddenly it seemed to me that he was looking around a little nervously.

      “Do you see anything, X–?” I said. “A shining woman, covered by her long hair, is standing

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