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The Banshee



Estimated reading time — 5 minutes

This is not a fictional story. This is an account of what happened to me when I was young.
It was a normal day in County Kerry in Ireland, well, what the rest of you would consider to be normal. The likes of you reading this will probably have a job of some vague description or be in some form of education. Not me, I’m a free spirit. I do not, or did not when it happened, attend school. I left early because; well, because school just wasn’t for me. Let’s leave it at that. I was more of a ‘hands-on’ kind of person. I’m not saying I’m stupid because I’m not, it’s just I had a different sort of intelligence than that which was demanded by the education system. Myself descending from an agricultural background, and I’ll tell you this – strange things happen out in the country. Strange, eerie things. Growing up in Ireland I of course heard my fair share of folk tales told to me by my dearest mother. God rest her soul. Tales warning me not to disobey my parents or else the “Tall man” will get me, but that’s not what this is about. I grew up listening intently to these folk tales, because that’s what they were to me back then – tales and fables…just stories. I’m not sure if you readers are aware of one of Ireland’s most famous folk tales (forgive me if I am wrong), a creature known only as the ‘Banshee’.

I’m seventeen now, but when it happened I was around the age of twelve. It was a normal day for me and my little sister, who shall remain nameless out of respect. We were playing out in the fields one late afternoon. The winds of Ireland swept across the barley created waves across the land which rippled in various shades of gold and yellow. The sun was starting to retreat back into the horizon, illuminating the world in rich shades of purple and orange. As usual me and my sister were playing hide and seek in the fields, and me being the older brother I tended to opt for the seeker, just so I could see her smile when she laughed as I found her. On the verge of the field were the woods. Even when the sun cast celestial vibrancy upon the woods, it still remained dark and foreboding. Anyway, we were playing hide and seek when I noticed something just on the rise of the field before it dipped down again. It was like…like this black bag, that’s the only way I can describe it. Just kind of floating there at the bulge. It dismissed it, assuming it was just farming waste, like something had fallen off a tractor.

As I continued searching for my little sister (she was an excellent hider, and some days I wouldn’t even find her at all. Causing my mother to panic rather frequently) through the barley this black bag thing managed to keep itself fixed in my peripheral vision. Again I dismissed this, thinking it was that cause of the wind fluttering the ‘bag’ around. I noticed some movement in the barley about 20 metres from me, so I crouched down and silently waded through hoping to find my sister, and hoping that the sound of the wind would mask me. As I hoped for the sound of the wind I heard something quite different. Like, a sort of wailing, a very faint and distant wailing far in the distance. I stopped and listened intently and made a ‘cup’ over my ears. The sound of the wailing merged with the whistling of the wind coming through the woods, almost like the sound of a kettle boiling. I crouched there listening for X amount of time, thirty…maybe forty seconds. My sister jumped up from hiding and ran to different location, which made me jump out of my skin.

That bag blew nearer to me and was now in my sight, just floating there. I began to be creeped out. It seemed like it was following me. I shouted to my sister that the game was over and that we were heading back inside. My gaze was fixed upon this black bag which seemed so ominous. My sister appeared at my side, she looked up at me and I down to her. She knew that look, I wasn’t joking around. I told her to go back to the house which was just over the wall and a hundred yards down the road. She obeyed, as she knew that tone I gave her. I made sure she got over the wall safely, and then I turned to where the bag was…or at least where it used to be. It seemed to move across the field in a zigzag pattern…towards me. I froze with shock as I didn’t know what to do, and all I could do was watch this bag come closer and closer. The wailing became louder and louder, like the sound of shellshock.
After what seemed like an eternity the bag was in range of being able to distinguish what it was. It wasn’t a bag. It was…some sort of black robe (Much like the Witch King form Lord of the Rings). Tattered and torn, the bottom of it stained. I stood there, mouth open. In terror, I watched this thing come towards me, this bundle of rags float across the field. The wailing became louder and my heart began to pound, trying to escape my chest. Sweat flooded off of me. All I could do was watch this thing come closer and closer and closer…

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The bundle of rags stopped several metres in front of me and the wailing stopped. All I could hear now was my heartbeat in my ears, like some ancient primal drums of war thumping away. The bundle of rags rose from the ground and emitted a blood-curdling shriek. A piercing scream which deafened me briefly. I held my ears and felt the blood trickle out of them. A hooded entity filled the robes. It stood tall and thin, long white hair flowing out of the hood. It then turned to me, and looked right into my soul. I felt this sharp pain in my chest. I clutched my chest in agony and writhed on the ground. It let out the same deafening scream and I noticed through fighting back tears that it was a woman. Pale and hollow she looked. It pointed at me with her long, skeletal fingers and then it pointed in the direction of my house. It then looked directly back into my eyes, and as quickly as it attacked me it disappeared into a bundle of rags on the ground.

I lay there in the earth, panting, sweating and looking at the bloodstains on my hands. I lay there, in pain and in fear. It was then I realised what I had just seen. The Omen on bad news and death. The Banshee. It wasn’t coming for me, it came as a warning! I had to get back to the house. I stumbled up from the earth and eventually ended up in the house. I found my sister standing in the kitchen, silent, in shock. She didn’t hear me crash through the door. I startled her when I touched her on the shoulder. She looked at me in horror, tears streaking her face. Speechless. She looked at me then looked to the floor, where my mother lay. Dead.

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Authorities report she died of a heart attack.
But I knew what really happened.

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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.

56 thoughts on “The Banshee”

  1. Don’t joke about banshees! Good pasta, but irish people go to school, live in towns for the majority, and, and I can’t say this enough, DON’T MESS AROUND WITH BANSHEES!!!!!!!!!!! Trust me, there as creepy as most of the traditional “creepy” beings! And they vary from family to family, and only hang around ancient irish families. They scream as a warning of death, are peaceful unless you interfere with them, and can’t kill people! Good story, nice usage of one of the more common banshee forms, but 7/10 because I have a feeling you’ve never been to Kerry and picked there because Ireland is a “banshee country”, and Kerry people don’t talk like this.

  2. People, if you’re so worried about grammar, go buy a paperback. Creepypasta is storytelling. There are no editors involved. This is a genuinely creeoy story due to the visuals it invokes. And to the people who whine about the “who is……” joke, go to your local supermarket and spend $48.89 on a sense of humor. You’ll be happy you did. PEAcE!

  3. It’s spelled Bean Sidhe and literally translates as Fae Woman or faerie woman, she was a mother who lost her child to drowning and pleaded with the spirits to help her warn others of loved ones in danger. She appears frightening because people respond to fear.

  4. Very good description of the Banshee, I heard tales of them as a child. Wailing white women who are a warning someone close to you is about to die, at least that’s the way I was told.

    The Grammar errors fit with the whole ‘uneducated’ vibe of the story.

    Also, just because you go to a public school, doesn’t mean you are getting an education. Sometimes home schools educate their children way better then state schools, I have always gone to public schools but have mostly had to teach myself things.

    I thoroughly enjoyed this, Bravo.

  5. This instantly grabbed my attention as I’m from Co. Offaly man. The Banshee, she is one scary bitch. Don’t know if you’ve ever seen Darby O’ Gil and The Little People, really childish film, but the Banshee still scares the living daylights out of me.

  6. Grog the Master Chef

    It was a great read, not really sure why people are ragging on you, or why people take everything to literally.

    @This guy
    I don’t even have words for that, just go away, lol.

  7. Do you seriously think people will believe this?

    PS- I’ve read Lorg of the Rings 3 times and none of the characters ( least of all the king of the Nazgul) looked like a plastic bag/ old woman.

  8. Some of your descriptions were out of this world. Like, I think it was "celestial vibrancy?" I really liked that phrase.

  9. if u know what really happened, would you mind telling your audience please? did the banshee who was there as a warning also murder the mother by heart attacking her to death?

    sees all.

    1. Banshee’s don’t kill, they’re the harbingers of death.

      Traditionally they stand on a rooftop and scream when someone living in the house is about to die.

  10. @ LollipopGestapo, You’re one to talk about grammar. Wouldn’t have* and “anyways” is not a word.

    ANYWAY, I have to give this a 5/10. Too many grammatical errors.

  11. So you and your little sister thought you found a bag, but it wasn’t a bag, it was some sort of scary etnity. Hmm, that sounds interesting. And awesome your 17 now, I think I am 2.

    1. Yes but I think the confusion was that it wasn’t of a heart attack, but then no other explanation is given. Yet the writer makes out as though the cause of death is obvious.. Which it isn’t.

  12. Can we please stop approving “who was” comments it’s extremely annoying and it actually gives me anxiety whenever I read one

    1. The Banshee doesn’t kill. it tells family members when someone dies. In possibly the scariest way imaginable…

    2. She has a weird way of telling them someone is going to die..I mean screaming till their ears bleed?wtf man!?Its bad enough some one i love is going to die but you`re going to make me deaf to?fuck you man..I mean woman. >.>

  13. Ahhh I grew up with so many Banshee stories it takes me back to my childhood…is it weird that I was told these stories from a very young age? Anyway I enjoyed it :) Nostalgic!

    1. Me too. My dad used to tell me a lot of folklore, or if he mentioned it, I would look it up on the computer or in a book. My dad encouraged me to read/ watch scary things.

  14. I enjoyed the landscape subscriptions and the brother/sister relationship. Who hasn’t been fooled by a plastic bag in the breeze?

  15. Decent pasta. Don’t mind having another hoho. Anyways I thought it was cool. I wasnt sure what a Banshee was till I searched it up. Banshee is basically death

  16. Just because someone wasn’t taught in a government instituted school system doesn’t mean they wouldn’t of been taught grammar, and proper speaking skills.

    Anyways! Lovely story, the visuals were great. Proofread some of your sentences though; some things spell check won’t fix.

    1. Check your grammar, love. It’s the ‘wouldn’t of’ that’s getting me. You mean ‘wouldn’t HAVE’.

  17. @Anonymous I wouldn’t be so sure. The author has at the very least been in Ireland from some of the phrasing. But you’re right, I don’t know too many Kerry people who talk like that :P

  18. Great story, but sad reality if it is true. The description of the banshee was wonderful the story itself followed actual lore of banshees very nicely and gave me the chills. 10/10.

  19. Not bad, but if you’re going to repeatedly state that you’re uneducated and Irish, you might want to try for that a bit more in your writing style.

    1. Tadhg O'Bollix

      Being Irish, I resent the implication in this story that we are uneducated. In fact, we have a better education system than you half-wit Americans or Brits. There’s nobody in Ireland like the narrator… We don’t have hillbilly home-schoolers like they do in the states. You have to go to school by law. Everybody goes to school, even the tinkers (Irish gypsies). Also, the descriptions of Ireland are way off. Ireland is green and gray. Full stop. No purples or orange glows. Also, the story doesn’t have any Irish dialect in it. Despite all that, its a decent pasta.

      1. I am very sure that calling all students in America homeschooled, and hillbillies, it a completely generalized opinion that makes you look like a fool, especially since it is required by law to go to school. Did you also know that many inovative inventions come from America, Great Britain, and China? Ireland is not included in that mix, so dont write everybody off and make the intelligent people Ireland look bad because you dont know how to get your facts in the right order

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