There’s Something Seriously Wrong With The Farms In Ireland 👻 Supernatural Creepypasta

There’s Something Seriously Wrong With The Farms In Ireland.
“Full Accurate Subtitles Available!”

▶️ Written by CosmicOrphan2020 ✍️
▶️ https://www.reddit.com/user/CosmicOrphan2020/ ✍️
▶️ https://www.reddit.com/r/CryptidsRoostsDungeon/comments/1kxp8ej/theres_something_seriously_wrong_with_the_farms/ ✍️ – Part 01
▶️ https://www.reddit.com/r/CryptidsRoostsDungeon/comments/1kxp8ej/theres_something_seriously_wrong_with_the_farms/ ✍️ – Part 02
▶️ https://www.reddit.com/r/CryptidsRoostsDungeon/comments/1kxp8ej/theres_something_seriously_wrong_with_the_farms/ ✍️ – Part 03

TIME STAMPS:
00:00 Intro
00:15 Story – Pt 01
13:52 Story – Pt 02
29:00 Story – Pt 03
46:46 Outro

▶️ Make sure to check out MrBlindBandit’s channel, where I now also co-host
▶️ @MrBlindbandit ✍️

MUSIC:
Special thanks to Tanner Stokes & Kevin MacLeod for the awesome music!
▶️ @TannerSpookyMusic 🎼 ▶️ http://incompetech.com 🎼

AMBIENCE /B-ROLL:
Special thanks to ‘Brandon Laura Obscura’ for the awesome ambience video!
▶️ @BPKofficial 🎬

▶️ License: Creative Commons Attribution license (reuse allowed)
▶️ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/ 📜 ▶️ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ 📜

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“WHERE FEAR IS, HAPPINESS IS NOT”

#CosmicOrphan2020 #cryptidsroost #creepypasta #IrishHorrorStories #hauntedfarm #farmhorrorstory

“There’s Something Seriously Wrong 
With The Farms In Ireland”. Written   by CosmicOrphan2020. So grab your 
coffee, sit back and enjoy the show. Part One. Every summer when I was a child, my family would 
visit our relatives in the north-west of Ireland, in a rural, low-populated region called Donegal. 
Leaving our home in England, we would road trip through Scotland, before taking a ferry across 
the Irish sea. Driving a further three hours through the last frontier of the United Kingdom, 
my two older brothers and I would know when we were close to our relatives’ farm, because the 
country roads would suddenly turn bumpy as hell. Donegal is a breath-taking part of the country. 
Its Atlantic coast way is wild and rugged, with pastoral green hills and misty mountains.   The villages are very traditional, surrounded 
by numerous farms, cow and sheep fields. My family and I would always stay at my 
grandmother’s farmhouse, which stands out a   mile away, due its bright, red-painted coating. 
These relatives are from my mother’s side, and although Donegal – and even Ireland for 
that matter, is very sparsely populated, my mother’s family is extremely large. 
She has a dozen siblings, which was always mind-blowing to me – and what’s more, I have 
so many cousins, I’ve yet to meet them all. I always enjoyed these summer holidays on the 
farm, where I would spend every day playing   around the grounds and feeding the different 
farm animals. Although I usually played with my two older brothers on the farm, by the time 
I was twelve, they were too old to play with me, and would rather go round to one of our 
cousin’s houses nearby – to either ride   dirt bikes or play video games. So, I 
was mostly stuck on the farm by myself. Luckily, I had one cousin, Grainne, 
who lived close by and was around my   age. Grainne was a tom-boy, and so we 
more or less liked the same activities. I absolutely loved it here, and so did my brothers 
and my dad. In fact, we loved Donegal so much, we even talked about moving here. But, for some 
strange reason, although my mum was always missing her family, she was dead against any ideas 
of relocating. Whenever we asked her why, she would always have a different answer: there 
weren’t enough jobs, it’s too remote, and so   on… But unfortunately for my mum, we always 
left the family decisions to a majority vote, and so, if the four out of five of us wanted 
to relocate to Donegal, we were going to. On one of these summer evenings on the farm, 
and having neither my brothers or Grainne to   play with, my Uncle Dave – who ran the family 
farm, asked me if I’d like to come with him to see a baby calf being born on one of the nearby 
farms. Having never seen a new-born calf before, I enthusiastically agreed to tag along. Driving 
for ten minutes down the bumpy country road, we pull outside the entrance of 
a rather large cow field – where,   waiting for my Uncle Dave, were three other 
farmers. Knowing how big my Irish family was, I assumed I was probably related to 
these men too. Getting out of the car,   these three farmers stare instantly at me, 
appearing both shocked and angry. Striding up to my Uncle Dave, one of the farmers yells at 
him, ‘What the hell’s this wain doing here?!’ Taken back a little by the hostility, 
I then hear my Uncle Dave reply,   ‘He needs to know! You know as 
well as I do they can’t move here!’ Feeling rather uncomfortable by this 
confrontation, I was now somewhat   confused. What do I need to know? And 
more importantly, why can’t we move here? Before I can turn to Uncle Dave to ask him, the 
four men quickly halt their bickering and enter   through the field gate entrance. Following the 
men into the cow field, the late-evening had turned dark by now, and not wanting to ruin 
my good trainers by stepping in any cowpats, I walked very cautiously and slowly – so slow in 
fact, I’d gotten separated from my uncle’s group. Trying to follow the voices through the darkness 
and thick grass, I suddenly stop in my tracks, because in front of me, staring back with 
unblinking eyes, was a very large cow – so large, I at first mistook it for a bull. In the 
past, my Uncle Dave had warned me not to   play in the cow fields, because if cows are 
with their calves, they may charge at you. Seeing this huge cow, staring stonewall at me, 
I really was quite terrified – because already knowing how freakishly fast cows can be, I knew 
if it charged at me, there was little chance I would outrun it. Thankfully, the cow stayed 
exactly where it was, before losing interest in me and moving on. I know it sounds ridiculous 
talking about my terrifying encounter with a cow, but I was a city boy after all. Although I 
regularly feds the cows on the family farm, these animals still felt somewhat alien 
to me, even after all these years. Brushing off my close encounter, I continue 
to try and find my Uncle Dave. I eventually found them on the far side of the field’s corner. 
Approaching my uncle’s group, I then see they’re not alone. Standing by them were three more men 
and a woman, all dressed in farmer’s clothing. But surprisingly, my cousin Grainne was also 
with them. I go over to Grainne to say hello, but she didn’t even seem to realize I was there. 
She was too busy staring over at something, behind the group of farmers. Curious 
as to what Grainne was looking at,   I move around to get a better look… and what 
I see is another cow – just a regular red cow, laying down on the grass. Getting out 
my phone to turn on the flashlight,   I quickly realize this must be the cow that was 
giving birth. Its stomach was swollen, and there were patches of blood stained on the grass 
around it… But then I saw something else… On the other side of this red cow, 
nestled in the grass beneath the bushes,   was the calf… and rather sadly, it was 
stillborn… But what greatly concerned me, wasn’t that this calf was dead. What concerned 
me was its appearance… Although the calf’s head was covered in red, slimy fur, the 
rest of it wasn’t… The rest of it didn’t   have any fur at all – just skin… And what 
made every single fibre of my body crawl, was that this calf’s body – its brittle, 
infant body… It belonged to a human… Curled up into a foetal position, its 
head was indeed that of a calf… But   what I should have been seeing 
as two front and hind legs, were instead two human arms and legs 
– no longer or shorter than my own… Feeling terrified and at the same time, in 
disbelief, I leave the calf, or whatever   it was to go back to Grainne – all the while 
turning to shine my flashlight on the calf, as though to see if it still had the same appearance. 
Before I can make it back to the group of adults, Grainne stops me. With a look of concern on 
her face, she stares silently back at me, before she says, ‘You’re not supposed to 
be here. It was supposed to be a secret.’ Telling her that Uncle Dave had brought 
me, I then ask what the hell that thing   was… ‘I’m not allowed to tell you’ she 
says. ‘This was supposed to be a secret.’ Twenty or thirty-so minutes later, 
we were all standing around as though   waiting for something – before the lights 
of a vehicle pull into the field and a man gets out to come over to us. This man 
wasn’t a farmer – he was some sort of   veterinarian. Uncle Dave and the others 
bring him to tend to the calf’s mother, and as he did, me and Grainne were made 
to wait inside one of the men’s tractors. We sat inside the tractor for what felt 
like hours. Even though it was summer,   the night was very cold, and I was only wearing a 
soccer jersey and shorts. I tried prying Grainne for more information as to what was going on, 
but she wouldn’t talk about it – or at least,   wasn’t allowed to talk about it. Luckily, my 
determination for answers got the better of her, because more than an hour later, 
with nothing but the cold night   air and awkward silence to accompany 
us both, Grainne finally gave in… ‘This happens every couple of years – to all the   farms here… But we’re not supposed 
to talk about it. It brings bad luck.’ I then remembered something. When my 
dad said he wanted us to move here,   my mum was dead against it. If anything, she 
looked scared just considering it… Almost afraid to know the answer, I work up the courage 
to ask Grainne… ‘Does my mum know about this?’ Sat stiffly in the driver’s seat, 
Grainne cranes her neck round to   me. ‘Of course she knows’ Grainne 
reveals. ‘Everyone here knows.’ It made sense now. No wonder my mum didn’t want to 
move here. She never even seemed excited whenever we planned on visiting – which was strange to 
me, because my mum clearly loved her family. I then remembered something else… A couple 
of years ago, I remember waking up in the   middle of the night inside the farmhouse, and 
I could hear the cows on the farm screaming. The screaming was so bad, I couldn’t even get 
back to sleep that night… The next morning, rushing through my breakfast to go 
play on the farm, Uncle Dave firmly   tells me and my brothers to stay away from the 
cowshed… He didn’t even give an explanation. Later on that night, after what must have been 
a good three hours, my Uncle Dave and the others come over to the tractor. Shaking Uncle Dave’s 
hand, the veterinarian then gets in his vehicle and leaves out the field. I then notice two of 
the other farmers were carrying a black bag or something, each holding separate ends as they 
walked. I could see there was something heavy inside, and my first thought was they were 
carrying the dead calf – or whatever it was,   away. Appearing as though everyone was leaving 
now, Uncle Dave comes over to the tractor to say we’re going back to the farmhouse, and that 
we would drop Grainne home along the way. Having taken Grainne home, we then make 
our way back along the country road,   where both me and Uncle Dave sat in 
complete silence. Uncle Dave driving, just staring at the stretch of road in front 
of us – and me, staring silently at him. By the time we get back to the farmhouse, it 
was two o’clock in the morning – and the farm   was dead silent. Pulling up outside the farm, 
Uncle Dave switches off the car engine. Without saying a word, we both remain in silence. I felt 
too awkward to ask him what I had just seen, but I knew he was waiting for me to do so. 
Still not saying a word to one another, Uncle Dave turns from the driver’s seat to me… 
and he tells me everything Grainne wouldn’t… ‘Don’t you see now why you can’t move here?’ he 
says. ‘There’s something wrong with this place, son. This place is cursed. Your 
mammy knows. She’s known since   she was a wain. That’s why she 
doesn’t want you living here.’ ‘Why does this happen?’ I ask him. ‘This has been happening for generations, son. For 
hundreds of years, the animals in the county have been giving birth to these things.’ The way 
my Uncle Dave was explaining all this to me, it was almost like a confession – like he’d wanted 
to tell the truth about what’s been happening here   all his life… ‘It’s not just the cows. It’s the 
pigs. The sheep. The horses, and even the dogs’… The dogs? ‘It’s always the same. They have the head, 
as normal, but the body’s always different.’ It was only now, after a long and terrifying 
night, that I suddenly started to become   emotional – that and I was completely 
exhausted. Realizing this was all too much for a young boy to handle, I think my 
Uncle Dave tried to put my mind at ease… ‘Don’t you worry, son… They never live.’ Although I wanted all the answers, I now 
felt as though I knew far too much… But there was one more thing I still wanted to 
know… What do they do with the bodies? ‘Don’t you worry about it, son. Just tell 
your mammy that you know – but don’t go   telling your brothers or your daddy 
now… She never wanted them knowing.’ By the next morning, and constantly rethinking 
everything that happened the previous night, I   look around the farmhouse for my mum. Thankfully, 
she was alone in her bedroom folding clothes, and so I took the opportunity to talk to her 
in private. Entering her room, she asks me how it was seeing a calf being born for the first 
time. Staring back at her warm smile, my mouth opens to make words, but nothing comes out – 
and instantly… my mum knows what’s happened. ‘I could kill your Uncle Dave!’ she says. 
‘He said it was going to be a normal birth!’ Breaking down in tears right in front of her, 
my mum comes over to comfort me in her arms. ‘’It’s ok, chicken. There’s no need to be afraid.’ After she tried explaining to me what 
Grainne and Uncle Dave had already told me, her comforting demeanour suddenly turns serious… 
Clasping her hands upon each side of my arms, my mum crouches down, eyes-level with me… and 
with the most serious look on her face I’d ever seen, she demands of me, ‘Listen chicken… 
Whatever you do, don’t you dare go telling your brothers or your dad… They can never 
know. It’s going to be our little secret. Ok?’ Still with tears in my eyes, I nod a silent 
yes to her. ‘Good man yourself’ she says. We went back home to England a week 
later… I never told my brothers or   my dad the truth of what I saw – of 
what really happens on those farms… And I refused to ever step foot 
inside of County Donegal again… But here’s the thing… I recently went back 
to Ireland, years later in my adulthood… and on my travels, I learned my mum and Uncle 
Dave weren’t telling me the whole truth… This curse… It wasn’t 
regional… And sometimes… …They do live. Part Two. After the experience that summer, I did what any 
other twelve-year-old boy would hopefully do. I carried on with my life as best I could. 
Although I never got over what happened,   having to deal with constant 
nightmares and sleepless nights, through those awkward teenage 
years… I somehow managed to cope. By the time I was a young man, I eventually found 
my way to university. It was during my university years that I actually met someone – and by 
someone, I mean a girl. Her name was Lauren, and funnily enough, she was Irish. But thankfully, 
Lauren was from much farther south than Donegal. We had already been dating for over a year, 
and things continued to go surprisingly well   between us. So well, in fact, Lauren kept 
insisting that I meet her family back home. Ever since that summer in Donegal, I had 
never again stepped foot on Irish soil. Although I knew the curse, that haunted me for a 
further 10 years was only a regional phenomenon, the idea of stepping back in the 
country where my experience took place,   was far too much for my mind to handle. 
But Lauren was so excited by the idea, and sooner or later, I knew it was eventually 
going to happen. So, swallowing my childhood trauma as best I could, we both made plans 
to visit her family the following summer. Unlike Donegal, a remote landscape wedged 
at the very top of the north-western corner, Lauren’s family lived in the midlands, 
only an hour or two outside of Dublin. Taking a short flight from England, 
we then make our way off the motorway   and onto the country roads, where I was 
surprised to see how flat everything was, in contrast with the mountainous, rugged 
land I spent many a childhood summer in. Lauren’s family lived in a very small but lovely 
country village, home to no more than 400 people, and surrounded by many farms, cow fields and a 
very long stretch of bogland. Like any boyfriend, going to meet their girlfriend’s family for the 
first time, I was very nervous. But because this was my first time back in Ireland for so long, I 
was more nervous than I would like to have been. As it turned out, I had no 
reason to be so worrisome,   as I found Lauren’s family to be nothing 
but welcoming. Her mum was very warm and comforting – much like my own, and her dad 
was a polite, old fashioned sort of gent. ‘There’s no Mr Mahon here. Call me John.’ Lauren also had two younger brothers I managed to 
get along with. They were very into their sports, which we bonded over, and just like Lauren warned 
me, they couldn’t help but mimic my dull English accent any chance they got. In the back garden, 
which was basically a small field, Lauren’s brothers even showed me how to play Hurling – 
which if you’re not familiar with, is kind of   like hockey, except you’re free to use your hands. 
My cousin Grainne did try teaching me once, but being many years out of practice, I did somewhat 
embarrass myself. If it wasn’t hurling they were teaching me, it was an array of Gaelic slurs. 
“Póg mo thóin” being the only one I remember. A couple of days and vegetarian roasts later, 
things were going surprisingly smooth. Although   Lauren’s family had taken a shine to me 
– which included their Border Collie, Dexter… my mind still wasn’t at ease. 
Knowing I was back inside the country where my childhood trauma took place, 
like most nights since I was twelve,   I just couldn’t fall asleep. Staring up at 
the ceiling through the darkness, I must have remained in that position for hours. By the time 
the dawn is seeping through the bedroom curtains, I check my phone to realize it is now 5 am. 
Accepting no sleep is going to come my way, I leave Lauren, sleeping peacefully, to go for 
an early morning walk along the country roads. Quietly leaving the house and front gate, 
Dexter, the family dog, follows me out onto   the cul-de-sac road, as though expecting to 
come with me. I wasn’t sure if Dexter was allowed to roam out on his own, but seeming as 
though he was, I let him tag along for company. Following the road leading out of the village, I 
eventually cut down a thin gravel pathway. Passing by the secluded property of a farm, I continue on 
the gravel path until I then find myself on the outskirts of a bog. Although they do have bogs in 
Donegal, I had never been on them, and so I took this opportunity to explore something new. Taking 
to exploring the bog, I then stumble upon a trail that leads me through a man-made forest. It seems 
as though the further I walk, the more things I discover, because following the very same trail 
through the forest with Dexter, I then discover a narrow railway line, used for transporting 
peat, cutting through the artificial trees. Now feeling curious as to where this railway may 
lead me, I leave the trail to follow along it. Stepping over the never-ending rows of wooden 
planks, I suddenly hear a rustling far out in the trees… Whatever it is, it sounds 
large, and believing its most likely a deer, I squint my tired eyes through the darkness of the 
trees to see it. Although the interior is too dark to make out a visible shape, I can still hear 
the rustling moving closer – which is strange, as if it is a deer, it would most 
likely keep a safe distance away. Whatever it is, a deer probably, Dexter senses 
the thing is nearby. Letting out a deep, gurgling growl as though sensing danger, 
Dexter suddenly races into the trees after   whatever this was. ‘Dexter! Dexter, come back!’ 
I shout after him. When my shouts and whistles are met to no avail, I resort to calling him 
in a more familiar, yet phoney Irish accent, emphasizing the “er”. ‘DextER! DextER!’ Still 
with no Dexter in sight, I return to whistling for several minutes, fearing I may have lost 
my girlfriend’s family dog. Thankfully enough, for the sake of my relationship with Lauren, 
Dexter does return, and continuing to follow along the railway line, we’re eventually led 
out the forest and back onto the exposed bog. Checking the time on my phone, I now see it is 
well after 7 am. Wanting to make my way back to Lauren by now, I choose to continue along the 
railway hoping it will lead me in the direction of the main country road. While trying to find my 
way back, Dexter had taken to wandering around the bog looking for smells – when all of a sudden, 
he starts digging through a section of damp soil. Trying to call Dexter back to the railway, he 
ignores my yells to keep digging frantically – so frantically, I have to squelch my way through 
the bog and get him. By the time I get to Dexter,   he is still digging obsessively, as though 
at the bottom of the bog, a savoury bone is waiting for him. Pulling him away without 
using too much force, I then see he’s dug a   surprisingly deep hole – and to my surprise… 
I realize there’s something down there. Fencing Dexter off with my arms, I try and 
get a better look at whatever is in the hole. Still buried beneath the soil, the object is 
difficult for me to make out. But then I see   what the object is, and when I do… 
I feel an instant chill of de ja vu enter my body. What is peeking out the 
bottom of the hole, is a face. A tiny, shrivelled infant face… It’s a 
baby piglet… A dead baby piglet. Its eyes are closed and lifeless, and 
although it is hard to see under the soil,   I knew this piglet had lived no more than a 
few minutes – because protruding from its face, the round bulge of its tiny snout is barely even 
noticeable. Believing the piglet was stillborn, I then wonder why it had been buried here. 
Is this what the farmers here do? They bury their stillborn animals in the bog? How many 
other baby piglets have been buried here? Wanting to quickly forget about this 
and make my way back to the village,   a sudden, instant thought enters my 
brain… You only saw its head… Feeling my own heart now racing in my chest, 
my next and only thought is to run far away   from this dead thing – even if that meant 
running all the way to Dublin and finding the first flight back to the UK… But I 
can’t. I can’t leave it… I must know. Holding back Dexter, I then allow him to continue 
digging. Scraping more of the soil from the hole,   I again pull him away… and that’s when I 
see it… Staring down into the hole’s crater, I can perfectly distinguish the piglet’s 
body. Its skin is pink and hairless,   covered over four perfectly matching limbs… 
and on the very end of every single one of those limbs, are five digits each… 
Ten human fingers… and ten human toes. The curse… It’s followed me… I want to believe more than anything 
this is simply my insomnia causing me to hallucinate – a mere manifestation of 
my childhood trauma. But then in my mind, I once again hear my Uncle Dave’s words, 
said to me ten years prior. “Don’t you worry, son… They never live.” Overcome by an 
unbearable fear I have only ever known in my nightmares, I choose to leave the 
dead piglet, or whatever this was, making my way back along the railway with 
Dexter, to follow the exact route we came in. Returning to the village, I enter through the 
front gate of the house where Lauren’s dad comes   to greet me. ‘We’d been wondering where you two 
had gotten off to’ he says. Standing there in the driveway, expecting me to answer him, all I can 
do is simply stare back, speechless, all the while wondering if behind that welcoming exterior, 
he knew of the dark secret I just discovered. ‘We… We walked along the bog’ I managed to 
murmur. As soon as I say this, the smiling, contented face of Lauren’s dad shifts 
instantly… He knew I’d seen something. Even if I never told him where I’d 
been, my face would have said it all. ‘I wouldn’t go back there if I was you…’ 
Lauren’s dad replies stiffly. ‘That land belongs to the company. They don’t take too well to people 
trodding across.’ Accepting his words of warning, I nod back to his now inanimate demeanour, 
before making my way inside the house. After breakfast that morning – dry toast 
with fried mushrooms, but no bacon, I pull Lauren aside in private to 
confess to her what I had seen.   ‘God, babe! You really do look tired. Why 
don’t you lie down for a couple of hours?’ Barely processing the words she just said, 
I look sternly at her, ready to tell Lauren   everything I know… from when I was a 
child, and from this very same morning. ‘Lauren… I know.’ ‘Know what?’ she simply replies. ‘Lauren, I know. I know about the curse.’ Lauren now pauses on me, appearing 
slightly startled – but to my own surprise, she then says to me, ‘Have my 
brothers been messing with you again?’ She didn’t know… She had no 
idea what I was talking about, let alone taking my words 
seriously. Even if she did know,   her face would have instantly told 
me whether or not she was lying. ‘Babe, I think you should lie down. 
You’re starting to worry me now.’ ‘Lauren, I found something out 
in the bog this morning – but if I told you what it was, you wouldn’t believe me.’ I have never seen Lauren look at me this way. She 
seems not only confused by the words I’m saying, but due to how serious they are, 
she also appears very concerned. ‘Well, what? What did you find?’ I couldn’t tell her. I knew if I told her in 
that very moment, she’d look at me like I was   mad… But she had a right to know. She grew 
up here, and she deserved to know the truth as to what really goes on. I was already sure her 
dad knew – the way he looked at me practically gave it away. Whether Lauren’s mum was also 
in the know, that was still up for debate. ‘I’ll show it to you. We’ll go back to the bog 
this afternoon and you can see it for yourself. But don’t tell your parents – just tell them we’re 
going for a walk down the road or something.’ That afternoon, although I still hadn’t 
slept, me and Lauren make our way out of the village and towards the bog. 
I told her to bring Dexter with us,   so he could find the scent of the dead piglet 
– but to my annoyance, Lauren also brought with her a tennis ball for Dexter, and for 
some reason, a hurling stick to hit it with. Reaching the bog, we then trek our way through 
the man-made forest and onto the railway,   eventually leading us to the area Dexter had 
dug the hole. Searching with Lauren around the bog’s uneven surface, the dead piglet, 
and even the hole containing it are nowhere   in sight. Too busy bothering Lauren to throw 
the ball for him, Dexter is of no help to us, and without his nose, that piglet was 
basically a needle in a very damp haystack. Every square metre of the bog looks too similar 
to the next, and as we continue scavenging, we’re actually moving further away from where 
the hole should have been. But eventually,   I do find it, and the reason it took us so long 
to do so… was because someone reburied it. Taking the hurling stick from Lauren, 
or what she simply called a hurl,   I use it like a spade to re-dig the hole. I 
keep digging. I dig until the hole was as deep as Dexter had made it. Continuing to shovel to 
no avail, I eventually make the hole deeper than I remember it being… until I realize, whether I 
truly accepted it or not… the piglet isn’t here. ‘No! Shit!’ I exclaim. ‘What’s wrong?’ Lauren inquires 
behind me, ‘Can’t you find it?’ ‘Lauren, it’s gone! It’s not here!’ ‘What’s gone? God’s sake babe, just 
tell me what it is we’re looking for.’ It was no use. Whether it 
was even here to begin with,   the piglet was gone… and I knew 
I had to tell Lauren the truth, without a single shred of evidence whatsoever. 
Rising defeatedly to my feet, I turn round to her. ‘Alright, babes’ I exhale, ‘I’m going to let you 
in on the truth. But what I found this morning, wasn’t the first time… You remember me 
telling you about my grandmother’s farm?’ As I’m about to tell Lauren everything, from start 
to finish… I then see something in the distance over her shoulder. Staring with fatigued eyes 
towards the forest, what I see is the silhouette of something, peeking out from behind a tree. 
Trying to blink the blurriness from my eyes, the silhouette looks no clearer to me, leaving me 
wondering if what I’m seeing is another person or an animal. Realizing something behind her has 
my attention, Lauren turns her body round from me – and in no time at all, she also makes out the 
silhouette, staring from the distance at us both. ‘What is that?’ she asks. Pulling the phone from her pocket, 
Lauren then uses the camera to zoom in on whatever is watching us – and while 
I wait for Lauren to confirm what this is   through the pixels on her screen, I only 
grow more and more anxious… Until, breaking the silence around us, 
Lauren wails out in front of me… ‘OH MY GOD!’ Part Three. What Lauren sees through the screen, staring 
back at us from inside the forest, is the naked body of a human being. Its pale, bare arms clasped 
around the tree it hides behind. But what stares back at us, with seemingly pure black, unblinking 
eyes and snow-white fur… is the head of a cow. ‘Babes! What is that?!’ Lauren frighteningly asks. ‘I… I don’t know…’ my trembling voice 
replies. Whether my eyes deceive me or not, I know perfectly what this is… 
This is my worst fear come true. Dexter, upon sensing Lauren’s and my own distress, 
notices the strange entity watching us from the woods – and with a loud, threatening 
bark, Dexter races after this thing,   like a wolf after its prey, disappearing 
through the darkness of the trees. ‘Dexter, NO!’ Lauren yells, 
before chasing after him! ‘Lauren don’t! Don’t go in there!’ She doesn’t listen. By the time I’m 
deciding whether to go after her,   Lauren was already gone, vanishing inside 
the forest. I knew I had to go after her. I didn’t want to – I didn’t want to be inside 
the forest with that thing. But Lauren left me no choice. Swallowing the childhood fear of 
mine, I enter through the forest after her, following Lauren’s yells of Dexter’s name. The 
closer I come to her cries, the more panicked and hysterical they sound. She was reacting to 
something – something terrible was happening. By the time I catch sight of her through the thin 
trees, I begin to hear other sounds… The sounds of deep growling and snarling, intertwined with 
low, soul-piercing groans. Groans of pain and torment. I catch up to Lauren, and I see her 
standing as motionless as the trees around us – and in front of her, on the forest floor… 
I see what was making the horrific sounds… What I see, is Dexter. His domesticated jaws 
clasped around the throat of this thing, as though trying to tear the life from 
it – in the process, staining the mossy   white fur of its neck a dark current red! The 
creature doesn’t even seem to try and defend itself – as though paralyzed with fear, weakly 
attempting to push Dexter away with trembling, human hands. Among Dexter’s primal snarls 
and the groans of the creature’s agony, my ears are filled with 
Lauren’s own terrified screams. ‘Do something!’ she screams at me. Beyond 
terrified myself, I know I need to take charge. I can’t just stand here and let this 
suffering continue. Still holding Lauren’s hurl in my hands, I force myself forward with 
every step. Close enough now to Dexter, but far enough that this thing won’t 
buck me with its hind human legs.   Holding Lauren’s hurl up high, foolishly 
feeling the need to defend myself, I grab a hold of Dexter’s loose collar, 
trying to jerk him desperately away from   the tormented creature. But my fear of the 
creature prevents me from doing so – until I have to resort to twisting the collar around 
Dexter’s neck, squeezing him into submission. Now holding him back, Lauren comes 
over to latch Dexter’s lead onto him,   barking endlessly at the creature with no 
off switch. Even with the two of us now restraining him, Dexter is still determined 
to continue the attack. The cream whiteness of his canine teeth and the stripe of his 
snout, stained with the creature’s blood. Tying the dog lead around the narrow 
trunk of a tree, keeping Dexter at bay,   me and Lauren stare over at the creature 
on the ground. Clawing at his open throat, its bare legs scrape lines through the dead leaves 
and soil… and as it continues to let out deep, shrieking groans of pain, all me and 
Lauren can do is watch it suffer. ‘Do something!’ Lauren suddenly yells at me, 
‘You need to do something! It’s suffering!’ ‘What am I supposed to do?!’ I yell back at her. ‘Anything! I can’t listen to it anymore!’ Clueless to what I’m supposed to do, I turn down 
to the ash wood of Lauren’s hurl, still clenched in my now shaking right hand. Turning back up 
to Lauren, I see her eyes glued to it. When her eyes finally meet mine, among the strained 
yaps of Dexter and the creature’s endless,   inhuman groans… with a granting nod of her 
head, Lauren and I know what needs to be done… Possessed by an overwhelming fear of 
this creature, I still cannot bear   to see it suffer. It wasn’t human, but it 
was still an animal as far as I was aware. Slowly moving towards it, the hurl in my hand 
suddenly feels extremely heavy. Eventually, I’m stood over the creature – close enough that 
I can perfectly make out its ungodly appearance. I see its red, clotted hands still clawing over 
the loose shredded skin of its throat. Following along its arms, where the blood stains end, I 
realize the fair pigmentation of its flesh is covered in an extremely thin layer of white fur 
– so thin, the naked human eye can barely see it. Continuing along the jerk of its body, my eyes 
stop on what I fear to stare at the most… Its non-human, but very animal head. Frozen in the 
middle, between the swatting flaps of its ears, and the abyss of its square gaping mouth, having 
now fallen silent… I meet the pure blackness of its unblinking eyes. Staring this creature 
dead in the eye, I feel like I can’t move, no more than a deer in headlights. I 
don’t know how long I was like this,   but Lauren, freeing me of my paralysis, 
shouts over, ‘What are you waiting for?!’ Regaining feeling in my limbs, I realize 
the longer I stall, the more this creature’s   suffering will continue. Raising the hurl to 
the air, with both hands firmly on the handle, the creature beneath me shows no signs of 
fear whatsoever… It wanted me to do it… It wanted me to end its suffering… But it 
wasn’t because of the pain Dexter had caused   it… I think the suffering came from its own 
existence… I think this thing knew it wasn’t supposed to be alive. The way Dexter attacked 
the thing, it was as though some primal part of him also sensed it was an abomination – an 
unnatural organism, like a cancer in the body. Raising the hurl higher above me, I 
talk myself through what I have to   do. A hard and fatal blow to the head. No 
second tries. Don’t make this creature’s suffering any worse… Like a woodsman, 
ready to strike a fallen log with his axe, I stand over the cow-human creature, with 
nothing left to do but end its painful   existence once and for all… But I can’t do 
it… I just can’t… I can’t bring myself to kill this monstrosity that has haunted 
me for ten long years… I was too afraid. Dropping Lauren’s hurl to the floor,   I go back over to her and Dexter. 
‘Come on. We need to leave.’ ‘We can’t just leave it here!’ 
she argues, ‘It’s in pain!’ ‘What else can we do for it, Lauren?!’ I raise 
my voice to her, ‘We need to leave! Now!’ We make our way out of the forest, 
continually having to restrain Dexter,   still wanting to finish his kill… But as we do, 
we once again hear the groans of the creature… and with every column of tree we pass, the groans 
grow ever louder… It was calling after us. ‘Don’t listen to it, Lauren!’ The deep, gurgling shriek of those groans,   piercing through us both… It was like a groan 
for help… It was begging us not to leave it. Escaping the forest, we hurriedly make our 
way through the bog and back to the village,   and as we do… I tell Lauren everything. I tell 
her what I found earlier that morning, what I experienced ten years ago as a child… and I tell 
her about the curse… The curse, and the words Uncle Dave said to me that very same night… 
“Don’t you worry, son… They never live.” I ask Lauren if she wanted to tell her 
parents about what we just went through,   as they most likely already knew of the curse. 
‘No!’ she says, ‘I’m not ready to talk about it.’ Later that evening, and safe 
inside Lauren’s family home,   we all sit down for supper – Lauren’s mum having 
made a vegetarian Sunday roast. Although her family are very deep in conversation around 
the dinner table, me and Lauren remain dead   silent. Sat across the narrow table from one 
another, I try to share a glance with her, but Lauren doesn’t even look at me – motionlessly 
staring down at her untouched dinner plate. ‘Aren’t you hungry, love?’ 
Lauren’s mum concernedly asks. Replying with a single word, ‘…No’ Lauren stands 
up from the table and silently leaves the room. ‘Is she feeling unwell or anything?’ her mum 
tries prodding me. Trying to be quick on my feet, I tell Lauren’s mum we had a fight while 
on our walk. Although she was very warm   and welcoming up to that point, for 
the rest of the night, Lauren’s mum was somewhat cold towards me – as if she just 
assumed it was my fault for mine and Lauren’s imaginary fight. Though he hadn’t said much of 
anything, as soon as Lauren leaves the room,   I turn to see her dad staring daggers in 
me… He obviously knew where we’d been. Having not slept for more than 24 hours, I 
stumble my way to the bedroom, where I find   Lauren fast asleep – or at least, pretending 
to sleep. Although I was so exhausted from the sleep deprivation and the horrific events of 
the day, I still couldn’t manage to rest my eyes. The house and village outside may have 
been dead quiet, but in my conflicted mind,   I keep hearing the groans of the creature – 
as though it’s screams for help had reached all the way into the village and 
through the windows of the house. By the early hours of the next morning, 
and still painfully awake, I stumble my way through the dark house to the bathroom. 
Entering the living room, I see the kitchen   light in the next room is still on. Passing by 
the open door to the kitchen, I see Lauren’s dad, sat down at the dinner table with a bottle of 
whiskey beside him. With the same grim expression, I see him staring at me through the dark entryway, 
as though he had already been waiting for me. Trying to play dumb, I enter the kitchen towards 
him, and I ask, ‘Can’t you sleep either?’ Lauren’s dad was in no mood for fake 
pleasantries, and continuing to stare   at me with authoritative eyes, he then says to 
me, as though giving an order, ‘Sit down, son.’ Taking a seat across from him, I watch Lauren’s 
dad pour himself another glass of fine Irish whiskey, but to my surprise, he then gets up 
from his seat to place the glass in front of me. Sat back down and now pouring himself 
a glass, Lauren’s dad once again stares   daggers through me… before demanding, 
‘Now… Tell me what you saw on that bog.’ While he waits for an answer, I try and think 
of what I’m going to say – whether I should tell him the plain truth or try to skip around 
it. Choosing to play it safe, I was about to counter his question by asking what it is he 
thinks I saw – but before I can say a word,   Lauren’s dad interrupts, ‘Did you tell my daughter 
what it was you saw?’ now with anger in his voice. Afraid to tell him the truth, I try to encourage 
myself to just be a man and say it. After all, I was as much a victim in all of this as anyone. ‘…We both saw it.’ Lauren’s dad didn’t look angry anymore. He looked 
afraid. Taking his half-full glass of whiskey, he drains the whole thing down 
his throat in one single motion.   After another moment of silence between us, 
Lauren’s dad then rises from his chair and leans far over the table towards me… and 
with anger once again present in his face, he bellows out to me, ‘Tell me what it 
was you saw… The morning and after.’ Sick and tired of the secrets, 
and just tired in general,   I tell Lauren’s dad everything that 
happened the day prior – and while I do, not a single motion in his serious face 
changes. I don’t even remember him blinking. He just stands there, stiffly, staring 
through me while I tell him the story. After telling him what he wanted to know, 
Lauren’s dad continues to stare at me,   unmoving. Feeling his anger towards me, having 
exposed this terrible secret to his daughter – and from an Englishman no less… I then break the 
silence by telling him what he wasn’t expecting. ‘John… I already knew about the curse… 
I saw one of those things when I was a boy   in Donegal…’ Once I reveal this to him, I 
notice the red anger draining from his face, having quickly been replaced by 
white shock. ‘But it was dead,   John. It was dead. My uncle told me they’re 
always stillborn – that they never live! That thing I saw today… It was alive. It 
was a living thing – like you and me!’ Lauren’s dad still doesn’t say a word. 
Remaining silently in his thoughts,   he then makes his way back round 
the table towards me. Taking my untouched glass of whiskey, he fills the 
glass to the very top and hands it back   to me – as though I was going to need 
it for whatever he had to say next… ‘We never wanted our young ones to find 
out’ he confesses to me, sat back down. ‘But I suppose sooner or later, one of them was 
bound to…’ Lauren’s dad almost seems relieved now – relieved this secret was now in the open. 
‘This happens all over, you know… Not just here. Not just where your Ma’s from… It’s all 
over this bloody country…’ Dear God, I thought silently to myself. ‘That suffering creature you 
saw, son… It came from the farm just down the road. That’s my wife’s family’s farm. I didn’t 
find out about the curse until we were married.’ ‘But why is it alive?’ I ask impatiently, ‘How?’ ‘I don’t know… All I know is that thing came 
from the farm’s prized white cow. It was after winning awards at the plough festival the year 
before…’ He again swallows down a full glass of whiskey, struggling to continue with the 
story. ‘When that thing was born – when they saw it was alive and moving… Moira’s Da’ didn’t 
have the heart to kill it… It was too human.’ Listening to the story in sheer horror, I 
was now the one taking gulps of whiskey. ‘They left it out in the bog to 
die – either to starve or freeze   during the night… But it didn’t… It lived.’ ‘How long has it been out there?’ I inquire. ‘God, a few years now. Thankfully enough, 
the damn thing’s afraid of people. It just stays hidden inside that forest. The workers on 
the bog occasionally see it every now and then, peeking from inside the trees. But 
it always keeps a safe distance.’ I couldn’t help but feel sorry for it. Despite 
my initial terror of that thing’s existence, I realized it was just as much a victim as me… It 
was born, alone, not knowing what it was, hiding away from the outside world… I wasn’t even 
sure if it was still alive out there – whether it died from its wounds or survived. Even now… 
I wish I ended its misery when I had the chance. ‘There’s something else…’ Lauren’s dad spits out 
at me, ‘There’s something else you ought to know, son.’ I dreaded to know more. I didn’t know 
how much more I could take. ‘The government knows about this, you know… They’ve known 
since it was your government… They pay the   farmers well enough to keep it a secret – but 
if the people in this country were to know the truth… It would destroy the agriculture. 
No one here or abroad would buy our produce. It would take its toll on the economy.’ ‘That doesn’t surprise me’ I say, ‘Just seeing one of those things was 
enough to keep me away from beef.’ ‘Why do you think we’re a vegetarian 
family?’ Lauren’s dad replies, somehow finding humour at the 
end of this whole nightmare. Two days later, me and Lauren cut our visit 
short to fly back home to the UK. Now knowing what happens in the very place she grew up, 
and what may still be out there in the bog,   Lauren was more determined to leave than 
I was. She didn’t know what was worse, that these things existed, whether dead or alive,   or that her parents had kept it a secret her 
whole life. But I can understand why they did. Parents are supposed to protect their children 
from the monsters… whether imaginary, or real. Just as I did when I was twelve, me 
and Lauren got on with our lives.   We stayed together, funnily enough. Even 
though the horrific experience we shared on that bog should’ve driven us apart, 
it surprisingly had the opposite effect. I think I forgot to mention it, but me and 
Lauren… We didn’t just go to any university. We were documentary film students… and 
after our graduation, we both made it our life’s mission to expose this curse once and 
for all… Regardless of the consequences. This curse had now become my whole life, and 
now it was Lauren’s. It had taken so much from us both… Our family, the places we grew up and 
loved… Our innocence… This curse was a part of me now… and I was going to pull it from my own 
nightmares and hold it up for everyone to see. But here’s the thing… During our investigation,   Lauren and I discovered a horrifying truth… 
The curse… It wasn’t just tied to the land… It was tied to the people… and just 
like the history of the Irish people… …It’s emigrated. Hey family.  A very big thank you to “CosmicOrphan2020” 
for allowing me to narrate such an awesome tale. Be sure to check out their Reddit 
profile for more of their awesome works. If you would like to support us and make 
a donation, I’d be very much appreciative.   I do have paypal and a buymeacoffee account. 
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Take care everyone, and I hope you all   have a wonderful and peaceful night. And don’t 
forget; where fear is… happiness… is not!!