The air lay thick with fog, scented from the Atlantic Ocean. The pastures had been and still were moist from the never ending downpour of rain in Western Ireland. Blossoming foxgloves, yarrow, daisies and creeping thistle covered these moist pastures for miles. However, it was rare that many of the locals took notice of the abundance of nature. The nature only truly concerned them when it came to the sheep and cow. Recently there had been events of the farmer’s cows and sheep’s disappearing during the late hours of the night and early mornings. Some of the locals blamed it on the Gypsies (the varmens they called them), some on the choices of the cows and sheep and some on predators such as wild beast’s that lurked in the woods, up on Timothy Hill. The few locals that thought wild beasts had lured the animals into the woods, were disregarded as too old thus insane and senile or too young and uninformed of practical thinking.
But, for now the worries of a couple cows or sheep’s disappearing per month wasn’t the greatest concern of the village folk, yet. What was, was the annual Saint Patrick’s Day Ball. People from all around Ireland, England and sometimes a few foreigners from Europe gathered at the Plaza to enjoy the festivities. The bakers had been preparing their custards, pastries, candy-coated fruits, cookies and many more deserts. Whilst the butchers fattened up their cows and chickens in order to roast the tender flesh to perfection to feed hundreds of persons. The decorators missed many hours of sleep in order to prepare the finest and most detailed decorations on the Plaza as well as the dresses and suits of those attending the ball who wanted to look their absolute finest. The ball was to be in a month’s time and everyone was already prepping and constantly talking of it. Everyone, except one, a local whom was considered “old, senile and insane” his name: Tom Eoghan. Eoghan was a man of 57, who believed that the wild beasts came down at night to snatch the farmer’s cow and sheep. Trust me when I saw, Tom was as informed of Timothy Hill as any could be, at least where humans were concerned… The time passed by regularly, except the animals disappeared more frequently than usual. It started to concern Eoghan to the upmost amount that he found himself unable to eat or sleep.
The sun had risen high into the sky, making the dew drops on the pastures glisten beautifully. The birds such as the Robins, Collared Dove’s and the Goldfinch’s were all singing a delightful tune which awoke the excited villagers. This was the anticipated day of the ball, everything was in perfect place for the night, everything except Eoghan’s plans. The singing of the bird’s bothered the irritable and sleepless old Eoghan. He needed peace and quiet in order to organize his plan to up on Timothy Hill. After sometime of deliberating by the Atlantic Ocean, Eoghan decided he would go when the plaza was filled of person’s thus no human soul would notice his disappearance. The day passed swiftly by for the town’s folk and soon enough carriages, single horses and even a few boats carried great masses of person’s into the dazzling plaza. The jewelry of the lady’s and the polished shoes of the gentlemen sparkled like the stars that filled the night sky. All the attention of the people rested in the plaza, just as Eoghan had predicted.
In the dark, Eoghan secretly slipped up to Timothy Hill, his knees wobbled uneasily as he approached the shadows of the tall trees.
“What a treat this will be.” He muttered to himself nervously. He desired to turn back, but he knew discovering what lurked up on Timothy Hill would be a good deed for the animals, he couldn’t care less about the villagers. Pulling his jacket closer around him as he stepped into the wood, he immediately felt engulfed by the wood and unable to turn back.  Demented laughing rang in his ears as if he was laughing, the area around him began to look different, smaller. Alas, he realized he was no longer a man of an average height of 6ft, but a beast of 7’3”. His hands no longer represented an old working class village man, but killer hands with tangled hair and 3” claws.  Eoghan was now the worst beast unleashed. It was not sheep and cows he was after like the other villagers who had been turned into the beasts as well, but the villagers whom called him “old, senile and insane” when he chose to speak the truth. Eoghan had always believed in karma and he thought it only fair if he returned what they had given to him: fear in one’s decisions. In this case, they certainly would fear not trusting Eoghan. In the moonlit night, Eoghan sprung out of the wood and down the moist pastures, past the grazing sheep and cows to the plaza for his satisfaction.