Gothic mood board depicting a skull, an ancient Irish chieftain with a hunting dog, hands reaching through a ghostly gauze, a yearning man kissing the hand of his lover, a thurible spewing incense, hands clasped in prayer with a rosary, a woman in white facing a vast forest, and hands ripping a hole in the center of the owner's chest. Text reads "The Banshee of Clan Murtagh, 82,000 words, adult gothic horror"
The pitch: When Ciarán Murtagh hears the cry of his family’s eternally young banshee, he hunts her down to learn who in his family is fated to die. In the struggle, he triggers memories of the banshee’s previous life, and she demands he give her more.
They meet by moonlight searching for answers in the banshee’s memories, and Ciarán’s growing attraction sets him on a path of macabre desire. But as the devastating bubonic plague closes in, Ciarán must decide whether to stay by his dying family or succumb to the seduction of the death-bringer.
I was a boy of ten when I first saw death, but I’d heard her for years.
It was an early summer’s day when we went to the lough. Niamh led us through the forest along the stream, babbling with a lightness that opposed her urgent pace. “This could be our best chance to see the merrow,” she said, her little voice all singsong. “Auntie said the veil is thin. They’ll be near and then we can speak!”
“She also said we shouldn’t go this far,” I reproached her.
Again about the merrow. She had been speaking of them for days, and insisted that Deaglán and I journey with her to the lough, where they lay beneath the surface. Finbar wasn’t supposed to come, but Aunt Eithne had made us watch him while she harvested yellow flowers on the hillside. He slowed us down, and Niamh’s frustration roiled off her like steam against the cool breeze. Though the land was ripe with life, winter still dragged a claw through the air.
As we ventured deeper into the forest, a feeling of unease grew within me. A sound rang in my ears, so faint I could not tell if it was imagined or real.
Because for weeks, it had haunted my dreams.
BETWEEN TWO FIRES x WUTHERING HEIGHTS
🖤 Toxic yearning in the time of bubonic plague
🥀 Lush, gothic atmosphere
💀 Only one grave
💌 SmoochPit 2025 Mentee
#QuestPit #Q #A #H #Horrormance
![Screenshot of a reddit post reading: AITA for predicting my aunt will die?
The other day I [M20] heard the banshee, meaning someone in my family will die, and obviously it's going to be my aunt. She's pretty sickly and I can't imagine any other option. But when I told my family, they called me a disgrace.
Naturally I tracked down the banshee and demanded answers, but she was totally useless and couldn't tell me shit, so I stole her comb. Sweet revenge. But I didn't anticipate that she'd try to get it back... and when I tried to get her out of my bedroom (hello, personal space???) I accidentally touched her and she had this weird seiuzure.
Now this creepy, undead (but lowkey hot) chick is insisting that "my touch brings her memories back" and "she craves more". I can't lie, I'm temped (just because I want to find out who'll actually die and prove my family wrong... no other reason). If my dickhead cousin finds out about this I'm totally screwed. AITA?](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:sm4geue6q4bq3pvcwjrjat5a/bafkreif2xopsuj5ial3pzb7c7lbjtehuigws5qjhhfhh6ze2ejykciejuq)
