Transcript
Lynne Washington (0:08)
I burned the books of wind and rain, of sleep and rage and joy and pain, and all the books the gods could write. Why did they hide the Book of Light? You're listening to Spooked. Stay tuned.
Podcast Announcer (0:40)
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Lynne Washington (1:19)
I don't hear voices anymore, don't see the dancing shadows. And I can't even remember the last time my grandmother sat at the foot of my bed to tell me stories of back when she was alive. To sing songs, to rail against my aunties. No more visits in the nighttime. And at first, this absence, this quiet, it comforted me. Huge, uninterrupted stretches of sleep without the nocturnal parade. Glorious. Wonderful. But now it's been a while, a long while, and I wonder if a door has locked fast behind me, one I didn't even notice. And now I'm refused entry into the castle I've lived in all my life, a passage I assumed as my birthright. Sometimes I wonder too, in the middle of the now quiet night, what price I would have to pay to make them return my key. Stuk starts now. Now Ireland is one of those places where some claim the veil between the quick and the dead is particularly thin. Everyone seems to have a ghost story or two or three, and our storyteller, Ashleen, she is no exception. Except Ashleen. She spent a lot of time thinking about what a ghost even is in the first place.
Ashleen (4:36)
I was raised in such a way that's not unusual in Irish families, where the supernatural, ghosts and the afterlife are kind of talked about as if they're a normal, everyday thing. They're not talked about as if they're a fantasy.
Narrator (4:52)
As a child, Aisling didn't question the existence of ghosts at all.
Ashleen (4:57)
It was just a fact. It was just ghosts existed and that's how it was. I didn't really start thinking about it more critically and start thinking, what does that mean until I was older. I'm 17 when my son is born, and very quickly after that I want to move into my own place. I don't want to move too far away from my parents, but I feel like I just need my own space. So I find a house that's up for rent and it's only a short walk from my parents house. So it's at the end of a cul de sac on the outskirts of the village, just underneath a big mountain. It's a brick house, two story, three bedroom, with a pretty big garden actually that came the whole way around to the front. It's a pretty standard Irish terraced house, which means there's a row of them connected to each other. But this house is at the very end. And this house until very recently had been a priest's house. The priest who baptized my son had lived in that house.
