“Ding dong,” goes my doorbell. “Ding dong,” it goes again. I quickly scramble into my dressing gown. I clumsily make my way to the door. I unlock the door only to find a parcel. I bring the parcel inside and put it on the kitchen table. I hastily grab some milk from the fridge and some cereal from the cupboard. The house telephone starts to ring. I recognise the voice, it’s Peter O’Sullivan.“ There is something I have to tell you,” he stuttered. “A very close friend of mine passed away, a few hours ago.” “Who was it?” I reply. “ It was Tom Larken,” ( he then rang up). But I am Tom Larken I think to myself. I start to eat my cereal when I notice there is now a note on the parcel. The note reads “I am sorry for your loss, I hear he was very close to you.” I think to myself again, I am Tom Larkin this makes no sense. I turn around and look in the mirror, only to see an unfamiliar face. I stood still gazing into the mirror and the face started to move. It made a grin so unlike anything I have ever seen. It was then that I hear the sounds “Ding Dong”.

The sound repeats in my head until I finally realise I am back in my bed. I get out of bed and open the door. There is a package outside the door and I pick it up. I vaguely remember the past incident of which ‘ I died’. The anger rushed through my veins and I tore open the package. Inside the package was there was a peculiar piece of paper. After analyzing it for ages I now saw what it was. The picture horrified me and I started to hear screaming inside my head. The screaming got louder until I couldn’t take it anymore. And then again I hear the sounds “ ding dong”.

This Urban Legend is one that has been lost to generations and has been passed through so many hands that the one real true story of what actually happened on that faithful night are lost to through the murky depths of false tales. Many people tell stories of Werewolves, Witches Vampires and the occasional Goblin, things that go bump in the night and crawl from their dark corners of the world to feast on the one or two innocent bystanders. This story, even though a legend, is one of the most looked into the story as the police records show that in fact a family was mauled to death by, what only could be described as, an animal attack. So get a blanket, lock your door, barricade the window and for god’s sakes turn on a light, we wouldn’t want any nasty surprises!

In a small town of Jericho, 90 miles from Wichita, there lived a young boy by the name of Jason. Jason was a normal seven-year old that loved to play in the outdoors and had a lovely family who lived beside the lovely old couple, Jenkins and the other couple, Richardson’s. The community was tight and Jason knew all the boys in the area, he didn’t care about girls then. Halloween was fast approaching and being in second grade was truly excited for the holiday, all the candy and fun his friends would have, my god!

Jason was never afraid of anything, films about vampires made him laugh, werewolves made him cry because he saw them as big fluffy dogs and witches were just mean cranky old ladies. The one thing he couldn’t look at though was the lady with the fingernails, she was horrible. His parents used to tell him stories about her but after Jenkins’s death, there were no more stories to be told. The Woman in question was known as Mary Harkins to her family, but to everyone else, she was known as the Clickitty Clack Woman. The reason for her abnormally long nails was due to the loss of her legs in a car accident and she figured out that her fingernails were so strong she could walk on them, the sound they made resonated with everyone that heard them.

One day when he was walking back from school he heard the noise, “clickity-clack, Clickity-clack, Clickity-clack” he ran and the sound followed him, it was getting faster as though she was running,” Clickity-Clack, Clickity- clack, Clickity –clack, Clickity-clack”. He burst through his front door in tears and shut the door. He ran upstairs and hid under the bed, he didn’t come out for the whole evening, not even for his dinner. The reason this happened was that Jason and a few of his friends had seen Mary earlier on that day. They jeered at her made faces at her and a few of the older boys joined in and had thrown rocks at her. She vowed that they wouldn’t live to see the sunrise and left with her awful fingernails clacking away. That night Jason would undo the latch on his door and go to his bathroom, the sound of clacking would be heard and then nothing. It spooked out Jason so much he ran into his parent’s room where it was strangely empty. He would go downstairs, turn the light on in the kitchen and there lying in their own blood with their throats ripped would be Jason’s parents. He would look up and there outside the window holding up a bloody hand full of razor sharp fingernails was the clickity-clack woman. Jason ran and hid in the cupboard but it was of no use. The last sound that Jason heard was Clickitty-Clack Clickity-clack, Clickity clack.

The forest was streaked in white moonlight and the wind howled through the trees. Although it had been his playground in his childhood, tonight it was a foreboding place. Jim had his fire on which spat and crackled every time a gust of cruel wind came whistling down the chimney, And even though it was warm inside Jim was chilled to the bone. Tonight reeked of death and only Jim knew who’s death it was going to be.

Four weeks ago Jim and his friends went to a Fair. As they wandered around the fair enjoying each other’s company, they spotted an old gypsy Barrel-Top Caravan with a disheveled sign outside saying “Madame Eliza-Fortune Teller”. The girls squealed with excitement at the sight of it and wanted instantly to go in. The boys, who didn’t believe in this nonsense, scoffed at the idea and told them it was all hocus-pocus and that there was nothing real about any of it. Then one of the girls dared any of them to enter. Jim rose to the challenge and went in, throwing a reassuring grin to the others to show he had no fear.

Two candles lit the darkness inside and there was a distinct whiff of incense. The flickering flames cast eerie shadows on the rag dolls on the shelves which made them appear alive and huddled behind a small table sat Madame Eliza, fortune teller. She wore a black veil, covering long white hair and her face was wrinkled with age. Her eyes were black beads in her head and they had a piercing effect on Jim. “What did you come for?” she croaked. Jim shivered and replied in a stammer, “It-It was a dare”. She looked at Jim and said, “I see……. take a seat.” She invited him to select five cards from the deck of tarot cards and told him to place them face down in front of her.

“Ah,” she said turning the first card.”You will come into a small fortune”. Jim sneered his approval. She moved onto the second card and turning it said, “Someone close to you will fall ill. Turning the third card, she smiled, “Romance, someone will make their feelings known soon. Jim hoped that at least there might be some truth behind this. He liked a girl by the name of Jenny but quickly reminded himself that this was only Hocus-pocus. Her hand slipped to the fourth card and without looking at him said “you will be going on a journey soon”. Again Jim sneered and received a glare from the black-eyed hag making his blood turn cold. On turning the last card, her voice changed into a low croaking whisper that chilled the atmosphere. ”The Grim Reaper, a symbol of death, someone is going to die”. She stretched her liver-spotted hand across the table towards Jim. “It is customary that you cross my palm with money for the reading”. James laughed out loud into the hags face.” Fat chance of that old hag, not for this rubbish!” as he rushed out the door. The hag screamed at him,” Jim O’Neill! You will not live to see the next full moon. I swear on my reading that it is you who will meet Death and he will be coming to claim what is rightfully his!”. Jim and his friends had a good laugh on their way home at the hag’s prophecies.

Tonight was the eve of the next full moon and Jim was alone and petrified still trying to convince himself that it was all Hocus-pocus. Suddenly a shape at the window revealed the Grim Reaper. Jim ran to the back door and rushed towards the nearby cemetery. He knew that it was hallowed ground and a such could protect him from all evil. As he ran towards an old oak he suddenly saw the old hag pointing to a headstone beneath it. He stood in front of it now, in disbelief, at what was written there. In bold print was “here lies Jim O’ Neill”. As he turned to run a hand grabbed his ankle and dragged him down. The last thing he saw was the laughing hag.

It was dark. Almost too dark to see. It contrasted with the cold so well. As though they were sisters. Footsteps surrounded the forest. The crunching and cracking of the dried up leaves and twigs on the ground would make every bone in your spine vibrate with fear.

Hot breath fought silently with the wind as a petite, pale woman sprinted as fast as she could, as though she was running from something. A man. A tall, dark, skinny man with a long face and pointy nose. He wore a long, black coat. He held his hand inside it as if he was hiding something… a gun!

The woman trembling in fear screamed with her remaining breath. HELP! Nobody answered. The face of the man close behind, twisted up as though he was eating a sour sweet. She was slowing down. Tears were streaming down from her eyes. She knew the end was near for her. She thought of the terrible choices she had made. Breaking into a house, stealing arms and stealing huge amounts of drugs from her lover to make her own fortunes. It all came down to this.

The scrawny man stopped and took out his weapon. She was still running in hope although her instinct told her it was too late. She wouldn’t listen. He aimed his gun, aligned his only eye with his target, the eye which survived the stab of a knife from his prey, and the pistol let out a bang. He succeeded. She dropped to the ground, motionlessly. Eyes open. Blood slowly dripped from the wound. The wind won the fight. her hot breath surrendered. He walked over and claimed his prize. “An eye for an eye”, and so, he left her there. Alone. Cold. Out of mind. Out of sight

“The glistening white snow fell and the snowman rises to greet all” – Leo Tsang (3rd Year)

“Winter is white, the family tend to fight but it’s always a delight” – Aine Slattery (TY)

“Christmas Eve, ‘24 hours’ until there’s no presents under the Christmas tree” – Amy Clarke (3rd Year)

“Santa looked out his windows to see the reindeer on strike” – Senan O’Brolchain (1st Year)

“Santa Claus is coming to town.. But I live in the country?” – Niamh Ryan (TY)

“Deck the halls and Santa will come down the chimney at Christmas” – Ordhran Fitzmaurice (1st Year)

“Sitting among fellow church goers, remembering loved ones during this magical time” – Leah Madden (TY)

“Spraoi to me is Christmas glee, with magical white trees and surprises” – Rachel Hannigan (TY)

“Year by year, he arrives without fail, leaving things in his trails”- Leo Tsang (3rd Year)

“Christmas breakfast – eating a fry, opening presents, snowflakes falling. What pure glee” – James McDermott (TY)

“School’s out, and, there is no teacher or student upset about it” – Amy Clarke (3rd Year)

“Rudolph perched on the roof as Santa delivers the joy of Christmas” – Enya Weedham (TY)