Danny Boy - A Halloween Story - Sex Stories

Danny Boy - A Halloween Story

... a very large hairball. “But most modern people, especially Americans, have a wee bit o’ trouble with the old tongue.” He smiled at me and his eyes literally twinkled. “You can call me ‘Danny,’” he said, “... like in the song.” He then launched into an off-key rendition of Danny Boy. I was hoping he wasn’t going to ask my opinion on his singing. I’m really not a good liar, and I have learned the hard way in the past that it is not a good idea to piss off magical creatures. Luckily he didn’t ask. He just finished the final chorus and wiped the tears from his eyes. “I’ll call the story, ‘Danny Boy,’” I told him, and that brought a fresh flood of tears. “It were a long, long time ago,” he began, “before the English put their boots on the throats of the blue people, back when Halloween was dancing around the bonfires on Dark Night and bringin’ the glowing coals home in a carved turnip to relight the family hearth with purified fire.” He looked up at the ceiling as if he was treasuring some memories and laughed. “There was a bit more to those fires and the dancing than a lot of your history books will tell ya,” he said. “You were supposed to give yourself over to the night and the fire and the spirits. Nothin’ between you and the night... Nothin’ between you and the fire... Nothin’ between you and the stars... And it was a very dark night as ye walked back to your hut naked with nothing but a burning coal in a carved out turnip to light your way.” He took a deep sigh. “Lot’s of ...

... things could happen in front of those fires or on those paths, and aye, it often did. If ye check the ancient records, ye’ll find that a good many Celtic laddies and lassies were born just after the summer solstice. Some of the young lassies would even signal their willingness by making their lanterns wink.” I must have looked confused because he pointed the stem of his pipe at me again and explained, “After ye carved full eyes out of the turnip, ye put part of the core back in one of them so that the eye appeared to wink. Some young lassies would carry that extra piece out of the house in their mouths so their parents wouldn’t know. ... Some wives did the same thing.” He laughed, but then suddenly looked very sour, almost angry. “Unfortunately,” he spat out, “so did the west country sisters. They would appear on the path and walk as though they were on their way home and seeking some company, but they were really casting their nets into the blackness to trap young men.” He shuddered, “I can think of worse ways to die, but having all of the sexual bliss that I would ever feel in me entire life condensed into those last few seconds doesn’t seem all that pleasurable. Ye could tell that it was one of the sisters because a young man would be missing and a shrunken, dried out old man would be found dead next to the path.” He raised himself up to his full three feet of height and said, “I decided that I was going to do something about it. So I watched the sisters throughout the summer ...