When I heard of this competition, I was reading a book called ‘Letter to My Younger Self’ where inspiring people shared moments that shaped their lives and on looking back, might offer advice to their sixteen- year-old selves. While this is not a letter, I found my thoughts wandering to days when I was maybe
Constable Lake is a lake near my house in County Cork. It is called Constable Lake because when England used to rule Ireland, there used to be policemen around the place. Back then the policemen were called constables. One day a constable got thrown in, so it was named Constable Lake after that. When my
A grey sky lay over the Twelve Bens mountains, and Roundstone was drowning in the humidity of an August afternoon. It hadn’t rained in Connemara for five long weeks, but the ferocious sky above Roundstone Bay forewarned the village of the monumental downpour to come. Jimmy remembered his grandad out on Inishnee, across the bay
“If only the water could talk” Faith kicked her feet with the cool water of the Erne, her dress dancing on the winds. The crystal water was shimmering with the sun reflecting onto the surface which was slowly disappearing in the horizon. The trees that were surrounding her were tall and full of life and
Scéalaí: Cad is ainm duit? Bradán: Airgead is aimn dom. Scéalaí: Sin ainm ait! Bradán: Tá dath airgead nó geal ar mo chraiceann. Scéalaí: Cad as tú? Bradán: Sin scéal fada. Inseoidh mé an scéal duit anois… I mí Deireadh Fómhair I 2018 bhí tuile san tSiúir. Bhí m’athair agus mo mhátháir sa fharraige timpeall
Rugadh agus tógadh mé ar bhruach abhann na Laoi, an abhainn is deise in Eirinn. Eirionn an abhainn seo i nGouganbarra agus imíonn sí uaithi trí gleann álainn na Laoi, áit ina bhfuil cultúr agus ceol na nGael láidir fós. Fá dheireadh shroiseann sí Cuan breá Chorcaí. Ach is le héirí na habhann i nGougánbarra a bhaineann mo scéal -se Fadó, fadó, bhí péist (dragón) ana mhór ina chónaí sa loch i n Gougánbarra. Lá amháin tháinig Naomh Fionnbarra go dti an loch chun mainistéir a bhunú ann. Ach bhi an ollphéist ag cur isteach ar phaidreacha na manaigh agus ag magadh fúthu. ‘Téir amach as an loch and Imigh leat as seo, a Phéist’ , arsa Naomh Fionnbarra. Ni Imóinn,’ arsa an phéist in árd a chinn is a ghutha. Bhí ceann mór ar an ollphéist and lasracha ag teacht amach as a bhéal. ‘Imigh leat, in ainm Dé’ arsa Naomh Fionnbarra go ciún socair, mar fear cróga ab ea é i gconaí. ‘Nilim chun imeacht’, arsa an phéist gránna agus é ag screadaigh go fíochmhar. D’oscail sé a bhéal chun Naomh Fionnbarra a shlogadh siar A Dhia, tar ar cabhair chugham’ , sin an paidir a dúirt Naomh Fionnbarra. Thug Dia neart seachtar fear don Naomh . Rug an Naomh ar an ollphéist agus tharraing sé amach as an loch é .Chaith sé ar an talamh é. Thug se cic don dragón. Theith an ollphéist ón naomh a bhí lán de ghrásta Dé. Rinne an phéist poll doimhin sa talamh agus é ag sleamhnú ón naomh. Nior stop an phéist ag síleadh an uisce go dti gur shrois sé an fharraige ag cuan Chorcaí. Léim sé isteach sa mhuir agus bádh é. Creid nó ná creid é, sin a mar deireann an sean-scéal . Ach is dócha gurbh é an Phágántacht ata i gceist i ndáiríre. Seasann an pheist don Phágántacht, mar chuir Naomh Fionnbarra ruaig ar an bPágántacht timpeall an ama sin. Bhi sé ag múineadh na Chríostaíochts don chos -mhuintir. Diaidh ar ndiadh tháinig deireadh le ré na Págantachta in Eirinn. Sin an sean scéat ar aon Nos . creid Nó ná creid, ach is Docha gurbh e an phagantach fein ata i gceist agus conas a chuir ANaaomh ruaig ar an bpagantacht .
We are a small fishing club on a stream in Westmeath, Ireland. We are hopelessly biased, but consider it the finest angling water in the entire fairy kingdom. For hundreds of years membership did not change – it was a case of waiting for ‘dead fairies’ slippers’. During that time we enjoyed our sport in