This is just a little local legend from where I live in Dublin. It’s not particularly scary but I think it is really sad.
During the time when the Irish and the English were fighting there was a soldier called Rory O’Connor. He was killed during the course of battle without ever getting to say goodbye to his wife and child. They say that on really rainy, somber nights his ghost returns and plays the violin to lament the loss of his wife and child.
Fuck Yeah Nightmares Answered: I’ve heard of this before. 6/10 for scares and thanks for sharing.
St Michan’s Church, in Church Street, Dublin, is famous for the “charnel house” in its vaults.The dry air has mummified the corpses, there are about thirty such bodies.
Although the atmosphere is perfectly still, some visitors who have lingered for a while in the vault have reported hearing sounds of loud whispering, as in agitated discussion or argument.
The curse of the Crying Boy Painting. In 1988, a mysterious explosion destroyed the home of the Amos family in Heswall, England. When firemen sifted through the burnt-out shell of the house, they found a framed picture, entitled ‘The Crying Boy’, which was a portrait of an angelic-looking boy with a sorrowful expression and a tear rolling down his cheek. But the picture was not even singed by the blaze.
Not long afterwards in Bradford, there was another blaze, and again a picture of the crying child was found intact among the smouldering ruins. The head of the Yorkshire Fire Brigade told the national newspapers that pictures of the weird Crying Boy were frequently found intact in the rubble of houses that had been mysteriously burnt to the ground. Journalists asked him if he thought that the picture was evil and could somehow start the fires, but the fire-chief refused to comment.
The reports of the unlucky painting causing fires are still occasionally reported; there was a Crying Boy picture found at a gutted house in Dublin in 1998, but no one as ever found out just who the child is in the supposedly cursed painting. One well-respected researcher into occult matters, a retired schoolmaster from Devon named George Mallory, claimed that to have uncovered the truth in 1995. Mr Mallory claimed he tracked down the artist behind the controversial portrait: an old Spanish postcard artist named Franchot Seville, who lives in Madrid. Seville said the Crying boy was a little street urchin he had found wandering around Madrid in 1969. He never spoke, and had a very sorrowful look in his eyes. Seville painted the boy, and a Catholic priest said the Boy was Don Bonillo, a child who had run away after seeing his parents die in a blaze. The priest told the artist to have nothing to do with the runaway, because wherever he settled, fires of unknown origin would mysteriously break out; the villagers called him ‘Diablo’ because of this.
Seville ignored the superstitious priest and looked after the boy. The paintings of the little sad orphan made Seville fairly rich, but one day, his studio was mysteriously burned to the ground. Seville was ruined, and he accused the little Don Bonillo of arson. The boy ran off crying, and was never seen again. Then, from all over Europe came the reports of the unlucky Crying Boy paintings causing blazes. Seville was also regarded as a jinx, and no one commissioned him to paint, or would even look at his paintings. In 1976, a car exploded into a fireball on the outskirts of Barcelona after crashing into a wall. The victim was charred beyond recognition, but part of the victim’s driving licence in the glove compartment was only partly burned. The name on the licence was one 19-year-old Don Bonillo; could this have been the same Don Bonillo who had been the subject of the Crying Boy painting eight years earlier? We will probably never know, as no friends or relations ever came forward for the body.
The library in Dublin was built in 1701 by Archbishop Narcissus Marsh next to his home. Reportedly, although Marsh was considered a “brilliant scholar,” he was also known to be “eccentric and obstinate.”
Marsh’s niece, Grace, came to stay with him and work as his housekeeper. After a time, Grace fell in love with a young minister in the area. Although the object of Grace’s desire had little money, he was “handsome and charming.”
Grace and her young man exchanged messages through notes placed in a special book in the library. Evidently the Archbishop would not have looked favorably upon the young couple in love.
Time passed. The couple made plans to elope to Scotland on a morning in early October (some sources say September) in the year 1695.
During the time that Grace and her fiancé made their plans, Grace became increasingly anxious. She was fearful that her uncle knew something was up.
The day of the couple’s elopement dawned bright with a heavy snowfall in Dublin. Nevertheless, love persevered and the young couple successfully left to marry and enjoy their happy life together.
On the following day, the Archbishop found a note that had fallen out of Grace’s pocket detailing the young lovers’ getaway plans.
The Archbishop never saw his niece again. He died, in 1713, of loneliness and bitterness which led to ill health.
Ironically, when Grace passed away at the age of 85, her remains were buried in the same tomb as the Archbishop at the St. Patrick’s Cathedral churchyard.
Locals in Dublin believe Marsh’s ghost walks the library at night searching for more messages that might be hidden in the books on the shelves. Visitors to the library often report that books fall off of shelves for no apparent reason. Many times, books are “slammed on the desks of readers.”
The library staff isn’t too upset about Marsh’s presence; he usually puts everything back where it belongs when he is done with his tantrum.