(pronounced 'key kay')

Patricia was running. She was being chased. It was the Ceann Cath, an ancient war-demon. She ran faster, Ceann Cath was right upon her. She ducked as the Ceann Cath hurled a boulder her way.

She tripped clumsily and rolled around on the grass. She landed on her back, looking up at the sky. The moon was full, and the stars twinkled like diamonds set in inky-blackness.

Patricia's view of the heavens was blocked out as Ceann Cath's rotted face loomed over her. Ceann Cath must have once been a pretty woman, but now her matted hair hung fiercely down her back. Her face was rotted almost to the bone. In the moonlight, you could see the torn flesh. The smell was terrible. It oozed out of the Ceann Cath and met Patricia's nostrils. It was putrid, like the scrap of Christmas dinner that fell behind the counter and decomposed on the radiator for a few months. Only it was worse- much worse.

Patricia stared, mesmerized, at the Ceann Cath a moment longer. A moment too long. The demon's sharp claws dug into Patricia's flesh and drew blood. As the crimson tide of life gushed out of her, Patricia managed a scream.

Her scream pierced the night and woke Patricia from her slumber. She awoke, panting. The familiar, reassuring walls of her bedroom surrounded her. Fearfully, Patricia got up and flicked on the light. She glanced into her closet and looked under her bed. There was no sign of the monster that had been haunting her dreams for months now.

She had become entranced by the demon. It consumed her mind, it was all she could think of. It became her obsession, which worried her mother. Patricia was a manic-depressive, meaning she experienced periods of elated happiness followed by deep, suicidal depressions. When her mother heard about the Ceann Cath, it only proved to her that her daughter was slowly slipping away.

Morning broke and the sun rose, the day had come. Patricia left the house and dawdled toward school. She was sure the demon was watching her, hunting her down. This was all part of the Ceann Cath's plan. To scare and confuse her, then go in and strike when she was vulnerable.

She noticed a flyer on the road. It was black, with red lettering. It read:
Are you being hunted by a paranormal entity? Are you afraid to go out at night for fear that you won't come back alive. Is your name Patricia? Is your demon the Ceann Cath? Well, this flyer was meant for you. Go to 47 Sundell Street, before it's too late… COME ALONE!
(Also specializing in Voodoo cures and fortunes.)

Patricia looked closely at the ad. Suppose it was a prank? But no one knew but her, her mother and her best friend Marla. Marla would never do this, she had just dismissed Patricia's dreams as regular nightmares. Her mother would never do this, but had her mother told someone? Or what if Marla had told someone. Someone like Kathe- the most pretty and popular girl in school. Kathe had had it in for her ever since her boyfriend, Don, had dumped her. She needed someone to blame, and Patricia was a perfect scapegoat.

Patricia was too desperate to give up this opportunity. She ran towards Sundell Street as fast as she could.

47 Sundell Street wasn't exactly a ritzy abode. The lawn was unkept and the paint was peeling off the walls. Patricia pressed the doorbell, but the button fell off without ringing. She shrugged and knocked.

The door was flung open by a black man with dreadlocks. "Come in, quickly now." He said, glancing suspiciously both ways outside the house. "You be the Patricia girl, is Papa Levino right. Of course he be right, Papa Levino's always right. Come in, before the bad spirit be following you in, and making her home here too."

"Hello, I'm at the right place? You're right, I'm Patricia. But how did you know?" questioned Patricia.

"This be not the time for questions, the Ceann Cath be hunting you down now. She strikes every century on a full moon. A new person, a new place every time. That person-be you. The moon- tonight it be full. Tonight- you be in grave danger! Not even very good gris-gris save you from her evil. Papa Levino think right that you want the Ceann Cath gone from this world, is he right?" said the voodoo man.

"Yes, help me kill her, I don't want her hurting anyone else either." Answered Patricia, her voice wobbling.

"You can only kill her in a dream. When you see her in your nightmares, take this powdered brimstone, throw it in her eyes. When she not be a-looking, throw this dagger into her heart. Then she be dead forever. But beware, no one has ever succeeded. The Ceann Cath has existed for very long time, very long time. You know her story, her curse?" the voodoo man said. Patricia shook her head. "She be like one of the faerie people- immortal. But she be crazy with hate in her heart. So she go to war against great king of the Druids. She dies, but is very angry at the loss of her immortality. She curse the world. Terrible curse. She come again, every century, full moon. New person, new part of the world to haunt. She want revenge on the mortals. Now go, you must win the battle." Concluded the voodoo man, ushering Patricia back out the door.

That night, Patricia couldn't sleep. She had to take some of her sleeping pills. When she finally fell asleep, she saw the moon. It was bright yellow against the black sky. The Ceann Cath was upon her. It took her by surprise, wrestling her to the ground. Patricia shoved a fistful of the brimstone into the demon's eyes, grinding the powder in. Her hand sunk into the rotting mass of flesh. The brimstone burned and boiled away the Ceann Cath's face.

Patricia withdrew her hands, unscathed. She had the dagger. The Ceann Cath was struggling and screaming into the night. Patricia thrust the dagger into the demon. Ceann Cath wailed with pain. Patricia plunged the dagger deep into the burning, putrid, disgusting monster, over and over again.

She felt the nails of the demon drive into her neck and claw at her throat. With one final thrust, Patricia drove the dagger deep into the bloody corpse. The tip came out the other side. Ceann Cath's grip loosened and relaxed. The demon wailed piteously one last time and slumped over.

Patricia woke up to the sounds of the night. The chirping of crickets, the creaking of the floor, the wind on the window, the screech of a demon. Patricia got up in a flash and pulled aside the curtains.

There she was, the Ceann Cath, grinned madly into the night. Patricia tried to scream, but couldn't. The demon smashed the window and charged at Patricia.

An evil chuckle echoed into the night. The voodoo man sat in his chair, at 47 Sundell Street, and laughed like a madman.

The next morning, Patricia's mother found Patricia dead in her bed. She found brimstone and a bloody dagger lying near her. The world thought that Patricia had gagged herself with brimstone and stabbed herself in the heart repeatedly.

"She finally did herself in," said the coroner as he zipped up Patricia's bodybag. "according to her mother, she was manic. The psychiatrist's been worried about her for months now."

The paramedic next to him nodded and loaded the body into the back of the ambulance.

*- Ceann Cath (key kay) translates to war leader in Gaelic.

Please don't copy my work!

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