The castle did look beautiful indeed but I had no intention of spending over an hour locked inside, being told by the guide enthralling stories about every single brick used to build the royal chambers. (Yes, I do realise it is somewhat of an exaggeration). Feeling like a rebel without a cause ( wearing a leather jacket to add authencity to the whole picture)I quietly slipped out.
Ireland was gorgeous indeed-without tourists in sight I could feel almost intoxicating sense of freedom.
I walked down a tiny cobble- stoned pathway, only to find myself staring at an old rusty gate.
The gate squeaked under my weight. One hop and I was on the other side.
I could not believe my eyes. Lush green lawn was stretching in front of me. Behind me the white towers of the castle stood in stark contrast to the grey sky. The lawn was framed by a dark, mysterious forest with old oaks which seemed to be showing off as if laughing at humans.
'Look at us. One can age gracefully. Every scar on our trunks tells a story of a beautiful day we have witnessed, every broken branch is a reminder of a past experience from which we have learnt. And you, bizzare humab beings, constantly striving to become clonea of each other. To wipe aways all traces of wrinkles that add character to your, otherwise expressionless, faces. You should be more like us. Why don't you want to listen?' - they seemed to be saying by angrily rustling their leaves in the wind.
The silence was suddenly pierced by children's laughter, which echoed in the hollow and I decided to venture into thw woods.
Shade provided by the forest was very welcome indeed. Unlike most of my friends, I do not enjoy too much sunshine. It seems almost vulgar, stripping the world off its mysterious undertones only visible in cloudy weather.
I looked up at a vast oak. If there was a king of the trees to be appointed, it would definitely have won the prize. With huge branches it seemed to invite humans to climb it and explore. So I did.
When I reached the perfect observation point, low enough not to break my spine if I were to fall, yet high enough to provide me with gorgeous views of the castle, I took off my jacket and created a nest in which I could relax and daydream about the ghost that suploaedly haunts the castle and the fairies that, according to Irish folklore stories, hide underneath the stones and in the poisonous ivy conjuring mischievious tricks they can play on naive humans.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment and when I opened them I saw a human running across the lawn. No, she wasn't running, she seemed to be almost gliding or even flying. Her unkempt hair was flowing behind her and she seemed to be enjoying the freedom provided by this beautiful place. The only thing that surprised me was her long summer dress. The day,after all, was quite chilly. The speed and grace with which she moved was also astounding. Suddenly she laughed. But her laughter, instead of sounding joyful, resonated with bitterness and blended in with howling of the wind. I have to admit it did scare me and also made me curious. I needed to see her face. I started to climb down the tree . The wind was howling now, the last rays of sun seemed to have disappeared. I shivered from cold and fear and noticed that I ripped my jeans and there was a trace of blood on my calf.
I hopped down and ran into the hollow
But she was gone. For a moment I thought i could hear the malicious laughter from somewhere in the woods.
'Was it the expression of self-content of the fairies?'- i thought to myself and the laughed at this silly question.
Then the gate squeaked again and suddenly the hollow filled with tourists carrying their cameras and snacking on tuna-filled baguettes. 'Oh wow, it's amazing!', 'hey, come here, look at that!' They brought in the usual noise and suddenly the whole hollow became more joyful yet I could no hear the mysterious laughter or the whispering of the oaks.
