Hokum

We're close.

Ah! Ah...

Aargh!

Ah...

It can't end like this...

It's okay.

Come here.

Nothing to be done.

Just turn away.

Be still.

I said turn away!

Aaaargh!

Why'd you shoot it?

They're pests.

They jump up on the cars and make shit of the paintwork.

Couldn't just shoo it away, huh?

Goats are stubborn.

Spray it with a hose?

No.

I'm telling you now, Fergal,

I'm not dragging that into the woods.

Shut up.

Fado, fado...

Long, long ago, deep in the woods,

there was a small stone hut.

And inside the stone hut,

there lived an old Cailleach...

A witch.

Preying upon the lost,

the evil old crone would first put the doomed travellers

under her spell,

leaving them as dazzled and vulnerable as lamplit game.

The witch would then shackle her stunned prey

before taking the lost travellers

on a tour of the underworld.

And sometimes,

a hand or a claw would reach out from the dark

and tear a piece from those at the end of her chain.

Pluck out an eye.

Peel off an ear.

And sometimes,

they took something from a little boy

that was more valuable to him than his eyes or ears.

Any guesses which part of you that might be?

-These your kids? -No.

Go find your parents.

And don't talk to strangers again.

There are worse things than strangers out there, Yank.

Did we wake you?

Uh, Mr Cob, my apologies.

I was on the phone and I thought Alby was manning...

Don't apologise to me, you maneen.

Apologise to the guest!

My apologies.

Why don't you mind your own business?

It is my business.

I'm the owner.

Bauman. I have a reservation.

If you could just sign... Ah! Mr Bauman.

Mr Ohm Bauman, Pullman City, Washington.

With us for a week. Welcome.

Lock it up.

Alby's dragging it out into the woods.

Dining room is down this corridor here.

Breakfast in the morning from seven to ten.

Halloween party tomorrow night with live music,

cocktails, costumes...

Should be a bit of craic.

Oh, um, craic is a word we use

to describe a fun time here in Ireland.

Yeah, can I get a room as far away

from the 'craic' as possible?

-I've work to do. -What do you do?

Writer.

Well...

you shouldn't hear a thing.

Thank you.

Wait...Bauman.

Ah, I know that name.

I think my son is a fan of yours!

A celebrity.

Well, if there's anything we can do

to make your stay more enjoyable,

please dial '0' and let us know.

All right.

Oh, maybe I could bring in my son's book

and you could sign it for him?

No.

There's nothing getting through that.

That's built to last.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Are you lost?

What does it look like?

Well, with that attitude, it looks like you can stay lost.

Okay, sorry, I'm just... I can't find my room.

It should be right here, but it's not.

-Oh, yeah. It's this way. -Thank you.

-First time in Ireland? -Yeah.

Are you having a nice time?

Yeah.

This is you.

Thank you.

Enjoy your stay.

Thanks. Oh, hey...

Sorry, would you happen to know

with the Big Redwood is?

-Who are those? -Jesus...

Oh, uh...

My folks.

Sorry for your loss.

You want a drink?

I think I may need something stronger than milk.

Nothing stronger than that.

-Moonshine? -Poitín.

Uisce beatha.

Water of life.

Whoo. Yeah, that's moonshine.

If you want something to defeat the demons,

and not just be running from them.

Magic mushrooms.

Psilocybin.

It's all natural.

I pick, dry, and grind the mushrooms myself.

And I like it with goat's milk.

What are you gonna do with it?

-I'll bury her. -Hm.

Do you know why they climb on the cars?

Goats like to graze on the mushrooms as well.

And when they're coming up,

they go looking for reflective surfaces, 'cause...

staring into your own eyes on mushrooms

deepens the trip.

But...

it can be dangerous.

Especially if there's an asshole with a crossbow nearby.

Don't get me started.

I've nearly come to blows with him over it.

Thanks for the drink.

Don't go climbing up on any cars.

I won't!

The boy's skull is the only hard object for, like, miles.

So, the conquistador

hits the boy with the bottle, killing him,

but the bottle still doesn't break.

In the end, he wanders out into the desert to die.

-Why would you write this? -What do you mean?

I mean, it's so bleak.

Well, you know, it's meant to be challenging.

Well, I won't be reading it. Not if that's how it ends.

Well, you know, a few of my novels

have been turned into bad movies,

and when they make the movie for you,

you tag on a happy ending.

Okay, well, they'd better.

You remind me of my mom.

Your mum? How old do you think I am?

Well, when she was young, you know.

Yeah, just in the way she...

Hm. She looks happy.

My dad took that.

You know, they came here for their honeymoon.

Always wanted to come back.

-Oh yeah? -Yeah.

Why didn't they?

Oh, she died a few years after that.

-She was very young. -Mm.

-How did she die? -Murdered.

Shot in the face as she came home from work.

Did they catch the person that shot her?

Nah, he's too young to be punished.

Should have fucking hanged him.

And your dad?

Oh, well, he... turned into a monster

and drank himself to an early grave.

You know, I've had their ashes for years

and never knew what to do with them.

I knew they were happy here, so...

Hey, I noticed the honeymoon suite, it's closed.

I wonder if that's the room they stayed in.

That has been closed a long time.

Do you know why?

Because no couple in their right mind would honeymoon here?

It's haunted.

-Oh. -By a witch.

Mr Cob says they managed to lock her in there years ago.

I tried to convince Mal to sneak the key off Mr Cob

so I could have a look up there,

but...he wouldn't go for it.

I have never known a man to be so afraid of his father-in-law.

Why do you want to go up there so bad?

To see if there really is a witch up there.

What if there is?

I mean, aren't you afraid she'll,

uh, 'get you'?

-I'd bring some chalk. -Chalk?

If you ever find yourself being chased by a witch,

draw a circle around you. Keep you safe.

If I ever think I'm being chased by a witch,

I will look for a psychiatrist, not a piece of chalk.

Oh, perfect. Alby...