Gan Ceann

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I could hear hoofbeats, but I couldn’t see a horse. I mentioned it to my wife, who just looked at me funny.

“Thomas, I don’t hear a thing. Is this another of your pranks?” She said to me.

So, I know she didn’t hear anything.

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I mentioned it to my Nana, and she crossed herself and said that Gan Ceann rides again. He comes to collect souls for the devil and heads for himself.

I left her feeling mighty uncomfortable.

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The hoofbeats were getting closer, or I was getting crazier. No one around me claimed to be able to hear a thing.

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Off in the distance, I can see a black speck.

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It’s getting bigger and bigger with each

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I see the shape of a man dressed all in black, wearing a black hat, riding a black horse with rutilant eyes bearing down on me.

I attempt to outrun the juggernaut coming towards me.

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Turning, I look over my shoulder. I can now see that the man has no face under his hat. No face at all.

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I ran harder than I ever ran before.

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Feeling an ice-cold hand grab me by the shoulder, I screamed with all my might. It was to no avail. The devil threw me across the back of his horse and carried me off to hell. The last sound I remember hearing was

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